Great Expectations

I'm not all into the original work by that title.
I like some of Charles Dickens' work.
Most Americans have at least been exposed to his work.
I mean, who hasn't use a fake English accent to quote the diminutive
Timothy Cratchit (a.k.a. Tiny Tim)
"God bless us, every one!"

But Great Expectations, the story, seems a bit depressing, don't you think?
In the Dickens story, Pip sets his "Great Expectations" on the wealth of an unknown benefactor 

and eventually, finds himself penniless and nearly friendless because of his self-absorption, and ambition. 

As with many novels with social class and ambition as a theme,
Pip then makes good.

Yeah, Pip. 

That was a total digress from a point I hadn't even made yet.

I have spent the beginning of this week 

contemplating Expectations.

Today marked our 12th day home together.

What did I expect? What did Maylin expect?

What are appropriate expectations from the siblings? 

What should I expect from a child who is processing so many things on so many levels?

What to do when I realize I had expectations that I didn't know I had?

These are the things weird dreams are made of.

Or a Dr. Seuss book.

When you ask me (as some of my six blog readers have,)
Is her behavior what you expected?

I have honestly answered, I had no expectations.

I was well-read on older child adoption. I have considered lots of aspects of international adoption. I read several books regarding Ch*na adoptions and the multi-faceted social/political issues that are involved.

I've lived adoption; I've raised six year olds; I had lined up resources for potential problems we may face.

I covered lots of ground.

 I was as "prepared" as well as almost anyone who's never done this before.

My "expectations" were that Maylin would fall somewhere in a range of
potential scenarios from really psychotic to well-adjusted. 

That was reasonable, don't you think?

I think (pause here with pursed lips and nod head slightly...)  

I did okay with those expectations.

Maylin's behavior does fall within that spectrum, and I am very thankful that she's on the "easier" and "normal" side of that continuum. She acts like a six year old. She sometimes acts younger. She is bright, and inquisitive, and a funny card. She can be unreasonable (which I think is perfectly reasonable in her position.) She enjoys charming people, but doesn't turn it off and on in a manipulative way. She reacts with "justifiable fear" and is learning to manage the angst her fears might cause.

She is really pretty normal

(except, she fits in with this family, which may negate that "normal" assessment.)

But, now that we're home, and beginning to learn each other, and interacting, and beginning the long range goals of adult-rearing...I have to create expectations...goals.

In our daily experiences, I know I need short-range goals
("get through this tantrum without being angry with her")
and long-range goals
("move her toward talking her emotions out with me.")

I worked so hard at NO Expectations
that switching gears to assessing where we both are, and how that fits into this family, and what situations I need to create in order to facilitate her growth in healthy ways, (in other words: Expectations)
is just hard work!

I need wisdom in finding the balance in where Maylin is (or any of the kids, ages 9-23) and where they, age appropriately, ought to be. With Maylin, my learning curve is a little skewed by the fact we only have a 24 day history, and I have no information about her previous training. My arsenal of child-rearing tactics is on hold tentatively while we try to move forward without overwhelming either of us. I think we're distilling all the niceties of life into two key points:
Learning to Trust and Learning to Obey.


I hope I can create an environment encourages Maylin to Trust and to Obey. She needs to know that Baba and I will do our very best to give her what she needs, not necessarily what she wants (whoa--possible tantrum ahead...) And we'll lovingly insist that she will do what we ask (while we lovingly choose our few demands wisely.)

I cannot escape the parallels to my relationship with my own Father, 
the One Who sends me flowers so routinely.

So, if you see me staring at one of the children with my eyebrows a little squinchy and my head tilted, pray for us. It means I'm in the assessing mode and am searching (a.k.a praying) to recognize the heart issue, and how to promote the heart change needed to produce the behavior that pleases God. 
I really want my Expectations to be Great ones.

I should be in bed, prepping in my weird dream world, for tomorrow's issues.
I also have more thoughts on expectations to share.

Writing my posts multiple times a day (in my head) may be my one weakness.

Days When the Flowers aren't Easy to See

Sometimes we need 

perspective.

Perspective has been defined as:

a : the interrelation in which a subject or its parts are mentally viewed  

<places the issues in proper perspective>;

b : the capacity to view things in their true relations or relative importance 

<trying to maintain my perspective>

The Troubles we each have are real enough, aren't they? 

But sometimes, I think I get bogged down a bit in the troubles (and even occasionally, the joys) that seem so much a part of my world that I forget that there is a bigger world. 

On Sunday, I asked God to keep my vision off "only us"

while we become this new family, 

while we get our new rhythm . 

It's just so easy for me to get myopic.

I mean, I realize that my primary focus needs to be on those under my own roof, and that I am called to be the momma of many for this time, but I'm wary that I will get sucked into my own little world (ever-expanding as it is!) and I just don't want to BE that small.

I hummed Brandon Heath's

Give Me Your Eyes

through much of our China Adventures. 

While bringing home Maylin was intensely personal, 

I didn't want this new experience to be about "only us."

All that to say, a friend had an immense loss today, and 

sharing in her pain helps put  

my life in perspective.

Maylin's screaming at the pediatrician visit today?...no problem.

Her temper when she thought Beth mistreated her?...no problem.

The achy head from messin' with my time zones?...no problem.

The overheating pool pump?

The increased price of my favorite fabric softener?

The missing school forms?

The milk spilled on the newly-mopped floor?

With a renewed "capacity to view things in their true relations or relative importance," I have to admit that my tone is telling the kids more than I think my voice is. A 10 year old let loose in the kitchen certainly needs to be more careful, and she does need to clean up after herself, and she ought to cream the butter and sugar first before she adds the eggs...but can I instruct her on ONE of those today, and deal with the other items later? Maybe I could read through the recipe with her instead of finishing the folding and sighing that I'd be "there in a minute." 

EVERY mother I have ever read or talked to that has suffered the death of her child bemoans the lost moments when she could have injected joy into life with her child. I think of that when I'm at a loss in training these young hearts. 

I sincerely believe personal growth requires

"delight and struggle" (Charlotte Mason) 

but do I allow room for great delight in their days after I've seen the struggle? 

I guess my challenge to me today was to have discernment in what things are "character builders" or are "character breakers." 

Living in the moment, but choosing to focus on the big picture, not the moment.

Because, I am not raising children. I'm raising adults.

Launch Dates

A Launch Date could be just about anything. 

"We launched the new computer program at work."

"We went to see the last Shuttle launch."

"A face that could launch a thousand ships..."

When I say Launch Date, it means one thing:

growing my child to a point that I am confident (as possible) that he/she is ready to be 

The Adult.

That they can 

~write a check

~pay a phone bill

~smile at a job interview

~dress appropriately for most occasions

~speak their mind clearly (and hopefully, humbly) and 

~employ personal hygiene on a regular basis, without any reminders.

My internal guide says that I won't judge 

how good of a Mom I have been 

until the kid is 30. 

Somehow, at 30, it seems like you are who you are going to be (sort of.) 

 People mess up in their 20's (I did, at least.) Some people mess up in big ways.

But by the time we hit 30 (I speak retrospectively), it just seems to me, 

that most people have settled in their head 

what they want their life to BE.

And like it or not,  we suspect that we are the only ones that can BE us.

So......

I'm not raising children. I'm raising adults.

I don't intend for my 30 year old sons to be childish. 

I want them to be leaders in their homes, nurturing warriors, decent citizens.

I hope my 30-something daughters will be women with a passion and purpose who make choices because they are the right ones, and love hard, pray hard, and live (a little) hard.

Now, what was my point?

Oh yeah. Launch Dates.

I don't have a date set in my head when I expect any of our children to "launch," although there are certainly some appropriate times to expect it might happen. But in a daily way, preparing them to launch means I don't look at today's drama in the school room, or messes on the floor, or broken heart the same way. 

The play ground disagreement needs to be handled like you hope they'll handle drama in the corporate world: with a solution-focused respect, a calm demeanor, and knowledge that life isn't always fair.

The messy floor needs to be dealt with by the one who made it, or sometimes, the by one who didn't make it, because a serving spirit is rewarded in so many lovely ways.

The broken heart needs patience to bind the wound, and arms to cry into, and a box of tissues nearby because sometimes, real love is hard.

I have plans to launch them.

And I'll know when I know.

I've had the experience of setting a child from our quiver onto the bow string, pulling back, determining the course I think he ought to fly, and being ready to let go with confidence. I've looked into a set of clear blue eyes and known he will be just fine, if perchance, I never have opportunity to pour one more thing into him. 

Just Fine.

That's a nice feeling.