Mimi had another major melt-down yesterday. Again over spelling. She hates me helping her with homework. All I ask is that before she starts writing it out she comes to me and we go through it so she knows how to say it, and how to practice and remember it syllable by syllable. Simple. Quick. No problem. From my point of view. But somehow for her this is such an impossible thing, that every week we have a big fight over it. I just don't get it. Without help, she gets shocking marks. She often can't pronounce the word. She just copies it letter by letter and of course that doesn't help you remember it for the spelling test. Not even getting 2/15 convinced her she needs help.
I try to make her understand that we two options: 1 - I help her or 2 - she does everything by herself, she sinks or swims, passes or fails, goes on to grade 5 or not. Sometimes she demands help, and woe betide me if I don't just give her the answer, if I actually dare to make her think a bit. "I can always just do your homework for you," I suggest, to make her see how ludicrous it is. She needs to think and she needs to do the work. And then often she starts arguing the moment I start helping her. Like, "Mom, what does this mean?" - "I means xxx." - "But my teacher said..." or "But the dictionary said..." or sometimes simply "No it doesn't." - "Well then if you know, why are you asking me?" Big sulk.
Sometimes I don't know what I am "doing wrong" in her eyes. I really try to be helpful, but she hates being helped so much, that she punishes me for helping. I try to come up with pleasant solutions, like "You look up your spelling word to see what it means (like they are supposed to), then I will help you with the sentence." (as in Afrikaans). But either she grouses at me for not telling her what the spelling word means, or she stubbornly sits and looks up every word and then gets the translation wrong or translates the English sentence word for word. Then when I dare point out the errors she has a tantrum. I don't know how to help her in a way that she can accept the help without making me or herself miserable. God, please teach her HOW TO ACCEPT HELP. She wants to do it all herself, but she can't, and it makes her mad. Then she demands help, in a horrible, rude way, then argues and fights when you do try to help, and when I say "I'm not having this argument, cheers. Come back when you are ready to co-operate," she storms off, slams doors, hisses and mutters, with thunderous anger. I hate how she behaves. I hate how she talks. I hate how she glowers at me. I hate how she treats me. Sometimes I hate her. Lord forgive me but sometimes I hate her. Only other parents of bipolar kids will even understand what I am talking about.
What can I do? Is there something I can do? How can I help her? Or must I just leave her? Would it help if she just got bad marks? Is it worth the risk? Would she fail if I just left her? Would it matter? Would it be good? She is not old for her class. She may do better if she repeated a year. She is also very much behind emotionally.
What should we do God? Should we let her try alone to avoid fights? Or must I insist on supervising her preparation for the exams, and the weekly spelling work? I really need an answer!
Ok this morning the devotion reminded us to praise God. Like I always tell the kids when they don't immediately want to pray, or know what to say: "There is always at least one thing to be thankful for, and at least one other person you can pray for." Look away from yourself and your troubles. Look up and thank God for all his blessings, his gifts. Remember someone else in even more trouble than you, or different trouble, or any trouble. Look up and look about you. Ok.
Thank you God for this lovely sunshine, after days of driving rain. Thank you for all the birds outside my window, the beautiful trees and flowers, the blue sky. Thank you for my amazing husband, who is so dear and loving, so faithful and strong. Bless him Father at work. He is carrying a heavy load. Help him please to bear it without bending or collapsing. Give him wisdom, good strategy, favour with all whom he works with. Give him strength and endurance. Thank you for that job, it is amazing. Thanks for the salary that comes in every month, from which we all live. Thank you for my dear parents, who are so loving and anxious to help and support us. Thank you for their prayers. Thank you for friends. For Caroline, Amanda, Taps, Nina, Rose, their families and many others. Thank you for the church, the elders, their caring, faithful leadership, their wonderful preaching, their hard labour. Thank you that people are going into the world for you, into other countries, into the shantytowns, into the rural areas, the inner city, to the poor, the enslaved, the invisible people. So many people are doing so many wonderful things in your name, helping, healing, giving, guiding. Praise you that selfishness has not triumphed, that so many are following you Jesus into self-sacrificial service. I have gotten tired of sacrifice. Hardened and blind to the needs of others. Make me softhearted again. Thank you for my health. That is worth so much! You only realized how much when you lose it. Thank you for all the material things we have been blessed with. Help us to share with others, as is your wish.
I pray for Steve, that man who came to church, homeless, mentally tortured, destitute. Help him to face the demons of his past and present, help him to ask for spiritual help. He is so lost, but he doesn't yet seem ready to flee to his heavenly Father. He is still choosing pig-food. Woo him Father. Even now. Remind him of my challenge - or yours, rather: "Come to the church in the week, and ask for help - spiritual help. You need help. Tell someone your story. The whole story. The true story. Remember how the Father received the prodigal son. Remember that."
Wednesday, 30 October 2013
Tuesday, 29 October 2013
Spirit of adoption
Dear God, I pray now for Simmy. My little munchkin who stutters. So eager to please, to do things right, so serious in his responsibilities, so eager to obey. Always loving, affectionate, kind and cheerful, eager to hug, smile at, chat to everyone, quick to repent, quick to apologise, a heart of gold. Give him something to do and it’s as good as done. So young yet so grown up.
I am full of anxiety. The whole dynamic in our home is so full of potholes: Mimi volatile, defiant, rude, bossy, argumentative, stroppy, wilful, selfish. Bibi stupid, clumsy, forgetful, dopey, lazy, passive-aggressive, sloppy. Both slow to apologise, surly when corrected, untrusting, closed. Adopted. And there is Simmy, the perfect child. I am not blinded and biassed. He really is incredibly easy, and the other two incredibly difficult, each in their own way. How can this scenario result in a happy outcome I ask you???? How can my two adopted children grow up feeling equally loved? Or Simmy grow up not feeling extra special? How can this not go wrong somehow? It’s not that Mimi and Bibi are always difficult. Mimi can be responsible, efficient, helpful, friendly, bubbly, and Bibi is also chirpy, chatty, singy-dancy, kind, patient, willing to co-operate, willing to help, etc. But the problem is they are difficult in some way so much of the time. Exhausting - Bibi mentally and Mimi emotionally. Whereas Simmy actually does the opposite. He fills me instead of draining me.
Now these are facts that I cannot do anything about. But it troubles me deeply that things are the way they are. I can’t picture a good outcome to all this, for everyone involved. Mimi and Bibi are likely to grow up feeling loved less, feeling like a burden (which they are to some extent), with low self-esteem. I can’t see it happening any other way. It looks to me like a foregone conclusion. And I’m sure it’s not good for someone’s soul feeling like the favourite. I don’t know. It’s just not healthy. Everything about this situation is not healthy. The only thing that is healthy (I think) is my bottomless love for Simmy, and his trusting love for his mom. This is the way it’s supposed to be for mothers and children. All children. Not just some. I wish I could have this with Mimi and Bibi. I pray for this. It seems like an impossible thing to pray for, it would be a divine miracle, for natural evidence speaks against it. But I must believe you are capable of it. So I ask for it, in Jesus’ name. Amen.
The devotion this morning was on the Lord’s Prayer. Spurgeon says, “This prayer begins where all true prayer must commence, with the spirit of adoption, ‘Our Father.’ ” God, you are the author of adoption, we are all your adopted children, surely then you know how to turn an adopted child into a true child, heart, body, soul. There is no better person to go to. God, do please give my adopted children the heart of a true child, that is loving and trusting, that yields to and embraces the love offered, that attaches itself whole-heartedly to the new parent, relinquishing all doubt, all past pain, for the sake of healing, that allows itself to be found even as we have been found by you. I ask that my children will allow me into their heart, and not keep me at arms length for ever. Amen.
And please help Simmy with his stutter. Next half of assessment is next week. It’s going so much better at the moment I wonder if the therapist will pick up anything at all. Anyway, I explained to her how he already has these stutterer’s grimaces. “Keep your mouth closed,” I tell him, “and think exactly what you want to say. Then just say it. Don’t start with ‘em’ or ‘and’. That way you get stuck.” It helps. He does it and it helps. But when he gets excited, or tries hard to get a word in edge-wise, he forgets and gets horribly stuck, rolling his eyes back, his face cramping, his mouth wide open in a skew gape, as he tries to form the first word. It doesn’t bother him for now, I just worry about cruel kids at school who will start teasing him and imitating his grimaces.
Monday, 28 October 2013
Don't fear
"Don't worry. Don't be anxious. Relax. Be at peace. They are my children first. I have a plan for them. I know what to do. And I will do it. Don't worry."
That is what I heard you say to me at church yesterday morning. Unconnected with the preach or anything (which just went right over my head as I'd heard it before). Again the story of Peter walking on water in the storm came up, confirming again what we is happening at the moment. I feel I am expected to walk on water, but I feel totally overwhelmed by the storm and waves, by fear and anxiety, and I'm almost drowning. I feel smothered by a thick leaden blanket of fear and worry and helplessness and weakness and impotence. I have so many questions: "What is going on, what is wrong, what is happening, what must we do, who can we see, which therapist can we go to, etc etc etc" that I feel strangled around the middle. The questions and worries come so hard and fast I can't even catch my breath. I'm almost imploding with turmoil. But God you say "Don't worry". You are taking me on a new road. The healing starts with me. I have to look to you for help, daily, and you will take my burdens.
"Come to me all who are weary and heavily burdened and I will give you rest...”
Half way through the service Helen and Christian came over and said they felt they needed to pray for me. They weren't sure what for, so they just started. They prayed for ... wait I wrote it down: "a new season, you are not going to run out, your strength is not going to run out, don't be afraid, new hope, new life, new joy and love, you will be a blessing to others, an angel of hope." It was really amazing. So timely and spot-on.
Went back for evening service because we were on duty. Had a wonderful chat with Rose afterward. Started by telling her about this new blogging thing but ended up venting all my fears and oppression, but also saying that God is starting a new work in me. She is such an amazing person, so utterly level-headed but with such radical faith. It turns out she and Shirley and Bev do a sort of prayer ministry. Rose asked if I would like them to pray with me. Yay! I couldn’t believe it. Only this week I was actually thinking of going back to chat with Shirley. She knows about having a child with psychotic problems. Also, I was chatting with Andrew about how I feel I need therapy, but not knowing who to turn to. Do I go to FOF or Hillside, or that other lady at church? And then at church last week it was as if God was slapping me lovingly and saying “Don’t be so daft. Look around - here is your family. You don’t need to go anywhere else.” And it’s so true. This is where I’m known. I have friends who have known me for 10-15 years. They know us, our family, our story. And I know them, their outlook, their heart. Why on earth would I want to go anywhere else? And start all over again? And tell our story over and over and over from the beginning? BOY do I get tired of telling the story from the beginning. SO TIRED. Like twice in one week recently: that counsellor at COGS, and the FOF psychologist. And I was about to go running off to Hillside and do it again. How stupid can I be? I’ve got all I need right here.
Rose really encouraged me to let it go. “Have you asked God for help? Have you written it down? Well now let it go. Have faith. You gave it to him, now leave it. He will answer. In his own way, in his own time. Trust him.”
She told me again that she just "knows" I will one day tell people our story and it will help them. I still can’t quite receive and believe that, because I have nothing to say yet, only problems and questions and confusion. I have not yet got an answer. “But you will” she said. “Just make sure you write it all down, so you don’t forget.”
I also told her how I realized tonight how my recent miscarriage had just passed me by. She didn’t even know about that yet. Nick had come to me during the service, saying “I’m really sorry, I didn’t know...” and for a few moments I had no idea what he was referring to. This is only three weeks ago and already it is fading. After all our years of infertility, the heavenly surprised joy of suddenly being pregnant again, and the bitter disappointment that it was not to be - it just came and went. Within days this grief had been dwarfed by the prevailing worries about the kids. It would have been a big thing, deserving of proper mourning, but it was just one more wave - albeit a large one - in an ocean already tossing with waves in gale-force winds. I still carry the pregnancy stick around with me, as a proof of what had been, and as a reminder. I don’t want to forget it yet. It’s like an entry in my diary of something that is still outstanding, but it’s getting moved up and moved up to make space for more important things. The baby is still out there in a dirty old flower pot, waiting for me to buy the tree we were going to plant, but I’m running around to educational psychologists and therapists and doctors and remedial schools and counsellors and psychiatrists and the baby is out there waiting for a burial. Forgotten. In a flower pot. What do you do with a baby that is too small for a coffin? But too visible to be flushed down the loo? It wasn’t just a spot. It was an embryo. I saw it. I touched it. It was small but it was there. A head, a heart a body. And it’s out there in a flower pot. And I’m too busy worrying about other stuff to attend to it. Him. Her. Who knows. “You still have to mourn this properly,” Rose told me, “before you forget, before it gets buried and becomes an unmourned grief.”
Gotta go.
Later: I feel so alone with my grief. I cried loudly and bitterly after writing the above. I was home alone. When the kids are around I don’t cry like that. I cry completely silently. I’m good at that. I can’t stop the tears and sometimes they notice. But I can cry in a whisper, and usually they don’t catch on. The dog noticed this morning and was all over me, licking me to death. But she may have just been bored. I don’t cry often. But when I do I prefer them not to know. But right now I could do with someone to share my grief with. It is lying heavily on me.
Had a wonderful long chat with Caroline. She said she was worried about me “getting over” the miscarriage so quickly, worried I had pushed it under and moved on too quickly without dealing with it properly. She is also worried that I/we are/have been walking this road alone. “I am just always so painfully afraid of being a burden to others,” I said. She urged me to call out for help, practical, spiritual, whatever I need. “Make sure you ask for help, and make sure you get it. That’s what the church is about.” It was good just crying a bit with another person on the other side.
PM: had a quick impromptu chat with Bibi. He just lets slip these things that worry me. Yesterday we were talking about what had happened at church. The kids spoke about the fruit of the spirit and had to stand next to the one they particularly felt they needed, or whatever. He stood by goodness. He is worried about not being a good boy. Today he wrote for one of his English sentences “I am unbelievably stupid!!!!!!!” I knew it was time to deal with his being “behind”. I’ve been stewing on it for a while so I felt ready.
“We have been taking you to all these doctors to get you tested for all sorts of things. You must have been wondering if there is something wrong with you. Have you?” - “No, not really.” - “Ok but I’m sure you find it frustrating that you struggle with certain things that others your age don’t struggle with.” - “Yes.”
I drew him a graph (yes - the scientific approach is a good place to start) of knowledge/learning/ability on the Y-axis against age on the X-axis. I drew a logarithmic curve showing how you learn a lot in early life, and then it levels off until you kind of plateau in adulthood. I then showed him how for the first 6 months he was really neglected, so that very little learning happened. Then once he came to the foster home, people started interacting with him and he took off. (I assume this is roughly correct. In any case, it is the most logical explanation.) The two curves demonstrate clearly how there is at first a huge gap, but how that gap closes and the two curves eventually meet. I showed him how at age 9 he should be here, but he is actually here, and if you read off what level of learning that is, it is the equivalent of 7 or even less. “Bruce found you read like a 7-year old. So you are behind. And you yourself know that there are things Simmy is able to do that you struggle with. I know it must worry you. It worried us. We wanted to make sure that there wasn’t something we could do, like a disease that could be treated, or something that could be done to help you.”
Then I drew him a race track. “Birth is the starting line. Down here is the finish line. The other kids in your class are around here, kind of spread out a bit. And you are over here. Now when a race car is quite a bit behind, you wonder if there is something wrong with the engine. That’s what Bruce did last week: he looked under your bonnet to check. Your engine is perfectly ok. All the things you need to be able to learn are like other 9-year olds.” - “Average?” - “Yes, average. Normal for a 9-year old. Some things are even above-average. Some things you do like a 15-year old. There is nothing wrong with your engine. You just started late. The flag went down, the other kids roared into action, and you got left behind. Then six months later you started too. That’s why you are behind. By the time you are 20 you will have caught up. So by you repeating grade 3, you will be joining the next batch to leave the start line. And you won’t even be so very much older than they. There are some older kids in that group too. And you’ll feel more comfortable. So, remember: 1: it is not your fault, 2: there is nothing wrong with you, you are just behind, 3:you’ll catch up, 4: Mom and Dad understand, 5: we love you and we are on your side.”
Also chatted briefly to the GP about his Ritalin. I’m still not convinced it will help him. He just can’t focus. It’s like sensory overload or something. But she said Ritalin is supposed to help with that. It’s a matter of getting the dosage right. She suggested giving him a whole pill in the morning, another at 10 or 11, and perhaps even another half in the afternoon. But he doesn’t have any problem with homework. That’s so weird. He just sits down and does it. It’s quite amazing. I don’t even have to chase him. At all. He starts and finishes. There are less distractions at home, I guess. But I still find it quite inexplicable.
I asked his teacher last week if it was possible to keep him in class during break until he had eaten and drunk. Because I picked him up one day last week and he had had nothing all day. He was doing ok there for a while, but then he was sliding again, coming home with half his food and only having drunk one cup. Today again he only ate and drank one break, not the other. They are not allowed to eat inside the class, so he sits outside. But today, because it was raining, everyone sat outside the class. So he ended up chatting and not having his food and drink. Other kids can do both. He just can’t. It is maddening. Such a basic thing. He cannot sing and shower. When he sings I know he is not showering. He can’t talk and unpack the dishwasher. Or eat. Or do anything. He can only do one thing at a time. How is he going to cope in this world??? So we’ll have to see if the teachers can stick him in a place all by himself. The sad thing is, we can’t let him do afternoon sport, because of it. I feel so bad for him. But we just can’t. If he had done sport last week after not drinking, in this heat, and not eating anything, he would have landed in hospital again. Andrew thought maybe he should go in and have a “talk” with his school mates. Or get the teacher to have the “talk”. If someone is a diabetic, or allergic to nuts, the friends need to know about it to help the child. Bibi gets hypoglycaemia and dehydrates. Perhaps it would help if his friends knew about it. Perhaps they can remember to leave him alone, or even remind him. But we don’t know if that’s a good idea. We just don’t know what to do really.
Mimi has been doing very well emotionally. But seriously slacking practically, which I’m not used to from her. But I would much rather remind her a few times to do stuff, and not have her bite my head off many times a day! I’m also doing much better after a week of God-therapy. Much better. Calmer, less frantic, more patient. Immediately I can see a change in the kids. That’s always one thing that totally gets me about being a mom. It’s just not fair. That you can’t let it hang out without the whole family catching whatever you’ve got. It’s not fair. Hmph.
A little monster
Here is the blog from my phone from the other night that didn't upload:
11pm
I forgot to blog today. I was also very miserable today. I didn't stop at one glass of wine but had another quarter three times. And I wanted more. I used to just like the dulling effect. It took the edge off. Later I had it because it made me a nicer mom at the end of the day. And it did. For a while. I don't think it does anymore. Now it makes me more on unpredictable. I'm nicer/funner and more relaxed when everything goes right, but I am more volatile when things go wrong, harsher when I get cross. I can just snap and suddenly I'm not myself. I can't trust myself completely. I'm more unpredictable when I've dulled my senses. It's a bit scary not recognizing yourself. But I want to drink every day. I can't imagine stopping. I don't want to stop. But I also feel ashamed and out of control and it's not fair on the kids.
Read a book on drug addiction recently and watched a movie tonight on an alcoholic. It made me feel like I was a bit like them. And it worried me. It worries me that it doesn't worry Andrew. He doesn't think it's a problem yet. One glass a day is fine. But I'm not sure it's fine for me anymore. I want it too much, I can't do without it any more, I think about it like I need it, and I scheme to get it even when it's not appropriate. I am no longer in control, and the glass of wine (or two) has become a crutch. I know I ought to be strong and just say "No", but I don't want to, and I suppose I can't. But I don't yet think it is enough of a problem that I must be radical and reach out and go to AA. Am I going to wait until it becomes really really bad and I do something I really regret or I put someone's life in danger? Will it take that? I know better! But I don't have the will power to do something about it. I haven't yet had the fright of my life. The monster is only just hatched. I know in my head that if I don't kill it now it's most probably going to grow big until it bites. Until it really gets dangerous. But I kind of want to "make the most of it" while it's not terribly dangerous yet. My wisdom says one thing but my ... body, my ... desire, ... my foolishness ignores the voice of wisdom. I'm not in control any longer but I don't yet FEEL the danger. It still FEELS ok. Am I going to wait until my FEELINGS turn? That would be SO foolish! But I can't find the strength of will to get brutal. God, can I leave this with you too? Perhaps you know what to do. But even as I'm saying this I know deep down that I'll have to do something about it before long. Me, myself. I'll have to say "no" and then not have that glass or two any more. I will actually have to stop it. And I'm not even ready to ask you to help me stop.
I've wondered if the kids can help. They see me every day with that glass. I don't like that they see me, but it would be ridiculous to try hide it. Kids are not stupid. I drink it to make me feel better. The bipolar folk call it "self-medication". But it is not a good solution. There are better ways to feel better. I want the kids to know that what I'm doing is foolish and dangerous. Perhaps they can help me stop. I could tell them that I have a problem and that I need their help, and then when the desire starts I can tell them the bad voice is calling me, and ask them to persuade me not to listen to it. That’s not fair on them, but doing nothing is even less fair on them. And asking their help because I need it is at least sending the right message. And may even help. Because I would be stopping for their sake. I don’t feel I need to stop for my sake, but for them. Your child saying “Please don’t do it mom” must be the most powerful motivator of all. Way more potent than my own lousy pathetic treacherous voice. But I must find something else to take the place of the wine. Something that is indulging of my emotional need, but not a baby monster. I wonder what that could be. Ok, God I know what to pray for: please show me a replacement for the wine that can help wean me off the alcohol. Amen.
Tonight I shouted at Bibi because there was a big wee stain on his bed sheet that he hadn't noticed or pretended not to notice. "How can you be so dense?" I shouted. "How can you not feel when you wake up wet? It's not the fact that you wet your bed but that you ignore it." Something like that. It was not nice. Simmy - who was already in bed - just looked down, embarrassed? stricken? and turned away. He is my conscience. It stung. God, that is how you were probably turning your face away sadly. At my wounding words. Perhaps not, but in my imagination you were.
I suspect more and more that I am the one with the issue here. Or at least, that I have major issues too that are making everything worse. Bibi is too scared to own up to stuff because he is afraid of my scolding and being punished. Like yesterday he came home not having eaten or drunk. He just put his full lunch box in the kitchen, without saying anything or doing anything about it. Just pretending everything was ok. I don't know, hoping I wouldn't check? Hoping it would just go away? Just feeling stupid and bad?
"It's not too late."
Are you saying that Lord or is that my wishful thinking? Can I go tomorrow and apologise and try make it better? Perhaps he really can't feel the wee and the poo and the hunger and thirst. Really not. And he needs help. Seriously. What then is wrong with him? There must be something wrong with him if he can't feel those things. And why do I get so outraged? Is it fear? Of not knowing what is going on or what to do about it? What is wrong with my child? It's driving me crazy. To have this intelligent boy, who understands deep mysteries, but he can't feel when he is thirsty or when he wets himself? And why can't I be kind and gentle and understanding and helpful? Why am I such a tyrant? Sometimes I just want to shake him and slap him around, to wake him up out of his stupor. Scream at him because he goes into this other state, where he withdraws from real life. It's like he checks out. He's not there. And I'm like "Who are you and what have you done with my son?!?"
I really need help God. Please help me if only to save the kids from me.
11pm
I forgot to blog today. I was also very miserable today. I didn't stop at one glass of wine but had another quarter three times. And I wanted more. I used to just like the dulling effect. It took the edge off. Later I had it because it made me a nicer mom at the end of the day. And it did. For a while. I don't think it does anymore. Now it makes me more on unpredictable. I'm nicer/funner and more relaxed when everything goes right, but I am more volatile when things go wrong, harsher when I get cross. I can just snap and suddenly I'm not myself. I can't trust myself completely. I'm more unpredictable when I've dulled my senses. It's a bit scary not recognizing yourself. But I want to drink every day. I can't imagine stopping. I don't want to stop. But I also feel ashamed and out of control and it's not fair on the kids.
Read a book on drug addiction recently and watched a movie tonight on an alcoholic. It made me feel like I was a bit like them. And it worried me. It worries me that it doesn't worry Andrew. He doesn't think it's a problem yet. One glass a day is fine. But I'm not sure it's fine for me anymore. I want it too much, I can't do without it any more, I think about it like I need it, and I scheme to get it even when it's not appropriate. I am no longer in control, and the glass of wine (or two) has become a crutch. I know I ought to be strong and just say "No", but I don't want to, and I suppose I can't. But I don't yet think it is enough of a problem that I must be radical and reach out and go to AA. Am I going to wait until it becomes really really bad and I do something I really regret or I put someone's life in danger? Will it take that? I know better! But I don't have the will power to do something about it. I haven't yet had the fright of my life. The monster is only just hatched. I know in my head that if I don't kill it now it's most probably going to grow big until it bites. Until it really gets dangerous. But I kind of want to "make the most of it" while it's not terribly dangerous yet. My wisdom says one thing but my ... body, my ... desire, ... my foolishness ignores the voice of wisdom. I'm not in control any longer but I don't yet FEEL the danger. It still FEELS ok. Am I going to wait until my FEELINGS turn? That would be SO foolish! But I can't find the strength of will to get brutal. God, can I leave this with you too? Perhaps you know what to do. But even as I'm saying this I know deep down that I'll have to do something about it before long. Me, myself. I'll have to say "no" and then not have that glass or two any more. I will actually have to stop it. And I'm not even ready to ask you to help me stop.
I've wondered if the kids can help. They see me every day with that glass. I don't like that they see me, but it would be ridiculous to try hide it. Kids are not stupid. I drink it to make me feel better. The bipolar folk call it "self-medication". But it is not a good solution. There are better ways to feel better. I want the kids to know that what I'm doing is foolish and dangerous. Perhaps they can help me stop. I could tell them that I have a problem and that I need their help, and then when the desire starts I can tell them the bad voice is calling me, and ask them to persuade me not to listen to it. That’s not fair on them, but doing nothing is even less fair on them. And asking their help because I need it is at least sending the right message. And may even help. Because I would be stopping for their sake. I don’t feel I need to stop for my sake, but for them. Your child saying “Please don’t do it mom” must be the most powerful motivator of all. Way more potent than my own lousy pathetic treacherous voice. But I must find something else to take the place of the wine. Something that is indulging of my emotional need, but not a baby monster. I wonder what that could be. Ok, God I know what to pray for: please show me a replacement for the wine that can help wean me off the alcohol. Amen.
Tonight I shouted at Bibi because there was a big wee stain on his bed sheet that he hadn't noticed or pretended not to notice. "How can you be so dense?" I shouted. "How can you not feel when you wake up wet? It's not the fact that you wet your bed but that you ignore it." Something like that. It was not nice. Simmy - who was already in bed - just looked down, embarrassed? stricken? and turned away. He is my conscience. It stung. God, that is how you were probably turning your face away sadly. At my wounding words. Perhaps not, but in my imagination you were.
I suspect more and more that I am the one with the issue here. Or at least, that I have major issues too that are making everything worse. Bibi is too scared to own up to stuff because he is afraid of my scolding and being punished. Like yesterday he came home not having eaten or drunk. He just put his full lunch box in the kitchen, without saying anything or doing anything about it. Just pretending everything was ok. I don't know, hoping I wouldn't check? Hoping it would just go away? Just feeling stupid and bad?
"It's not too late."
Are you saying that Lord or is that my wishful thinking? Can I go tomorrow and apologise and try make it better? Perhaps he really can't feel the wee and the poo and the hunger and thirst. Really not. And he needs help. Seriously. What then is wrong with him? There must be something wrong with him if he can't feel those things. And why do I get so outraged? Is it fear? Of not knowing what is going on or what to do about it? What is wrong with my child? It's driving me crazy. To have this intelligent boy, who understands deep mysteries, but he can't feel when he is thirsty or when he wets himself? And why can't I be kind and gentle and understanding and helpful? Why am I such a tyrant? Sometimes I just want to shake him and slap him around, to wake him up out of his stupor. Scream at him because he goes into this other state, where he withdraws from real life. It's like he checks out. He's not there. And I'm like "Who are you and what have you done with my son?!?"
I really need help God. Please help me if only to save the kids from me.
Saturday, 26 October 2013
Son needs help
Yesterday's blog, sent from my cellphone at 11pm, didn't get uploaded I see. I wonder what went wrong.
Dear God, please please help Bibi. Is he just not able to keep his thoughts together? Is he that much behind? Do we just have to keep thinking, "what would a 7-year old do?" But Simmy at 5 is able to do stuff Bibi at 9 is incapable of. Lots of stuff. How much is can't and how much is won't?
Please please please help him. Is he just very much behind? A very slow developer? We had him tested for everything we can think of. There is nothing wrong with him, apparently. He's just behind. Then why can't be do stuff? And it's all fine and well saying "he is a late developer". But somehow we have to get through the day. There's this list of stuff he has to do. Basic stuff that most people don't need a list for. This morning he got reminded to do his list five times, and still he didn't do it. Must we really think for him every moment of every day? Is he really that "unable"? Is it really that impossible for him? If you have a handicapped child, you don't tell them to do stuff, you do it for them. He can do it, so you tell him to do it. He doesn't like being reminded, he doesn't like doing the stuff, and he is not interested in learning. That's what it looks like. He is passively resisting us every step of the way. So we scold and chase and reprimand and nag. So he hates it more and feels stupid and resentful. So he does it even less. So we get even more frustrated. WHAT IS THE ANSWER?????? WHAT DO WE HAVE TO DO? How can we get him to catch a wake up? He is not stupid, just terribly terribly lazy. He can't be bothered. He doesn't want to think. Thinking is too much effort. He just wants to sit there and stare into space. He is such a space cadette. I find it hard living with him. It is really a pain being his mother. Year after year after year telling him to wash his hands, drink, flush the loo, blow his nose, wipe his bum, drink, pick up his clothes, hang up his towel, eat, wash his face, brush his teeth, drink, eat, put on his shirt the right way round, put on his jersey the right way round, put on his shorts the right way round, straighten his blanket so it actually covers him, pick up the toy instead of standing on it, finding stuff that is right in front of his nose there is snot running down, that is in the same place as always, remembering what he was supposed to be doing, reminding him again five seconds later, hang up your swimming pants, unpack your bag, drink, eat, drink, eat over your plate, blow your nose there is snot running down, tell me when you wet your bed, at least hang up your wet pyjama, don't ignore it, please, drink, eat. It never ends!!!! Year after year. There seems to be no improvement. Oh, sorry, he does now seem to wipe his bum after making a poo. Major improvement.
And the worst is he knows he has to do all this basic stuff and he doesn't and then he lies about it. That is the worst. Lying has become a knee jerk for him. It is his first response to the point where I absolutely cannot trust him any longer. He may be telling the truth at any point in time, or he may not. He does not own up and he does not appear to feel bad when he messes up. He just resents having to admit it and say sorry AGAIN. He is tired of apologizing and being wrong and messing up and getting things wrong. But he doesn't seem to want to get things right. He doesn't seem motivated to try improve and remember and do stuff. He appears to want to get stuff wrong and fail. Failing has become a safe place for him. It's predictable. He knows how to do it. It comes naturally, and most of all, he doesn't have to try.
This is how it looks to me. But I have no idea what is really going on inside him. He is a mystery. He is depressed. He is a deep thinker. I don't think he sees the point of living. Sometimes he wants to die, I know. Life is too much trouble. It's too hard. It's easier to chicken out. It seems there is nothing he really wants to live for. It is so disheartening and perplexing and worrying. I get miserable thinking about him. He really needs help. Who can help him?
This week I need to find a long term solution so he can get counselling. Please God. It cannot wait any longer. Hillside or whatever. Please. Let us find the right person, the right solution. He needs help so badly. Most of all, please you help him. Give him that joy in life, that inner motivation. Or show us what to do. No, not Or, And. And show us what to do.
Please God.
Dear God, please please help Bibi. Is he just not able to keep his thoughts together? Is he that much behind? Do we just have to keep thinking, "what would a 7-year old do?" But Simmy at 5 is able to do stuff Bibi at 9 is incapable of. Lots of stuff. How much is can't and how much is won't?
Please please please help him. Is he just very much behind? A very slow developer? We had him tested for everything we can think of. There is nothing wrong with him, apparently. He's just behind. Then why can't be do stuff? And it's all fine and well saying "he is a late developer". But somehow we have to get through the day. There's this list of stuff he has to do. Basic stuff that most people don't need a list for. This morning he got reminded to do his list five times, and still he didn't do it. Must we really think for him every moment of every day? Is he really that "unable"? Is it really that impossible for him? If you have a handicapped child, you don't tell them to do stuff, you do it for them. He can do it, so you tell him to do it. He doesn't like being reminded, he doesn't like doing the stuff, and he is not interested in learning. That's what it looks like. He is passively resisting us every step of the way. So we scold and chase and reprimand and nag. So he hates it more and feels stupid and resentful. So he does it even less. So we get even more frustrated. WHAT IS THE ANSWER?????? WHAT DO WE HAVE TO DO? How can we get him to catch a wake up? He is not stupid, just terribly terribly lazy. He can't be bothered. He doesn't want to think. Thinking is too much effort. He just wants to sit there and stare into space. He is such a space cadette. I find it hard living with him. It is really a pain being his mother. Year after year after year telling him to wash his hands, drink, flush the loo, blow his nose, wipe his bum, drink, pick up his clothes, hang up his towel, eat, wash his face, brush his teeth, drink, eat, put on his shirt the right way round, put on his jersey the right way round, put on his shorts the right way round, straighten his blanket so it actually covers him, pick up the toy instead of standing on it, finding stuff that is right in front of his nose there is snot running down, that is in the same place as always, remembering what he was supposed to be doing, reminding him again five seconds later, hang up your swimming pants, unpack your bag, drink, eat, drink, eat over your plate, blow your nose there is snot running down, tell me when you wet your bed, at least hang up your wet pyjama, don't ignore it, please, drink, eat. It never ends!!!! Year after year. There seems to be no improvement. Oh, sorry, he does now seem to wipe his bum after making a poo. Major improvement.
And the worst is he knows he has to do all this basic stuff and he doesn't and then he lies about it. That is the worst. Lying has become a knee jerk for him. It is his first response to the point where I absolutely cannot trust him any longer. He may be telling the truth at any point in time, or he may not. He does not own up and he does not appear to feel bad when he messes up. He just resents having to admit it and say sorry AGAIN. He is tired of apologizing and being wrong and messing up and getting things wrong. But he doesn't seem to want to get things right. He doesn't seem motivated to try improve and remember and do stuff. He appears to want to get stuff wrong and fail. Failing has become a safe place for him. It's predictable. He knows how to do it. It comes naturally, and most of all, he doesn't have to try.
This is how it looks to me. But I have no idea what is really going on inside him. He is a mystery. He is depressed. He is a deep thinker. I don't think he sees the point of living. Sometimes he wants to die, I know. Life is too much trouble. It's too hard. It's easier to chicken out. It seems there is nothing he really wants to live for. It is so disheartening and perplexing and worrying. I get miserable thinking about him. He really needs help. Who can help him?
This week I need to find a long term solution so he can get counselling. Please God. It cannot wait any longer. Hillside or whatever. Please. Let us find the right person, the right solution. He needs help so badly. Most of all, please you help him. Give him that joy in life, that inner motivation. Or show us what to do. No, not Or, And. And show us what to do.
Please God.
Thursday, 24 October 2013
Questions questions
Dear God
We have now tested Bibi for a dozen different things: for diabetes, thyroid dysfunction, epilepsy, he's been at the OT, to a sleep clinic to test for sleep apnoea, a clinical psychologist, and now an educational psychologist. If there is nothing wrong with thim, then all this testing must have convinced him that there is. But we get negative results from them all. He is having "scholastic" trouble now, but the educational psychologist finds no underlying cause. His IQ and other "wiring" functions are all normal, some above-normal. There is nothing wrong with him and he has foll capacity to learn. Remedial schooling would be a waste. He is just behind.
He is just behind. We have known that all along, haven't we. Always a year or three behind. It has been so disconcerting that we kept worrying we were missing something serious. And Andrew would say we had to tick all the boxes, because we didn't want to find out years down the line that we had missed something obvious. So is that it? Must we stop worrying? I was still thinking of taking him to the psychiatrist to test for bipolar also. But the comparative symptoms list the psych gave me clearly puts Bibi into the ADHD category, though he has few elements of RAD too - reactive attachment disorder. But not many at all.
His missing out on the first six months of his life probably just set him back by 2 years. God, if that's all it is I want to simply accept that and remember it when he continues to behave like a 7 year old or younger. I have often thought he does it on purpose, as a passive-aggressive act of defiance. And perhaps he does sometimes, as protest against our high-pressure expectations.
I didn't like the way the guy was talking to me about Bibi though. I wanted to say "Hey! That's my son you are talking about." He spoke very insensitively of "this kid", as if I was a teacher, not his mother. Perhaps he assumed, since Bibi is black and I am white, that we share less of the mother-child relationship. Or perhaps, because I talk rather matter-of-fact, he thinks he can talk to me like a fellow professional. Scaring me with RAD, and telling me my son is bland emotionally, and has no sense of humour. Good grief! What does he know? One hour doing tests with Bibi and he thinks he can tell all that. Anyway, forgive him. Sure.
That chart the chap gave me was very helpful though. ADHD. Or rather, ADD mostly. This is not an easy diagnosis in itself, but it's a whole lot better than RAD or bipolar or any of the other things. Now we need to try higher dose of Ritalin and see if that helps. The edu psych dismissed the idea of foetal alcohol syndrome out of hand. It goes along with certain facial deformities and actual mental retardation. So no need to worry about that. Bibi needs to repeat grade 3 and get some extra classes. Thankfully he is quite ok with that, and glad not to leave his new friends.
Dear God, please help him. Not to catch up, that's not what I mean. Just to cope. To feel better about himself. Help us not to expect stuff he can't deliver. Please encourage him and give him motivation to carry on trying. Not to give up.
And what about therapy? Should we go ahead with that? Does he need it? Does Mimi? Please give us a clear answer. We could just go ahead with it, because it "can't do any harm". I'm still not sure if we found the right person. This psychologist I met yestderday at the FOF centre is going on maternity leave end of the year, so if this is going to be long-term, then we need someone else. They already had one change. What if they go back to Rebecca? Just find the money. I'm just not sure it made much difference. Ok I must complete the exercise and still go to Hillside also. Check out what counselling they offer there. Or ask the teachers at school. Maybe there is someone nearby here. God? Answer please?
Do they need counselling?
By whom?
Need answers urgently. Thanks.
Love, Zea
What are you saying to ME this morning? The two Spurgeon devotions did not speak to me. Remain in you. Yes. Fine. Anyway I have to go. Bye.
We have now tested Bibi for a dozen different things: for diabetes, thyroid dysfunction, epilepsy, he's been at the OT, to a sleep clinic to test for sleep apnoea, a clinical psychologist, and now an educational psychologist. If there is nothing wrong with thim, then all this testing must have convinced him that there is. But we get negative results from them all. He is having "scholastic" trouble now, but the educational psychologist finds no underlying cause. His IQ and other "wiring" functions are all normal, some above-normal. There is nothing wrong with him and he has foll capacity to learn. Remedial schooling would be a waste. He is just behind.
He is just behind. We have known that all along, haven't we. Always a year or three behind. It has been so disconcerting that we kept worrying we were missing something serious. And Andrew would say we had to tick all the boxes, because we didn't want to find out years down the line that we had missed something obvious. So is that it? Must we stop worrying? I was still thinking of taking him to the psychiatrist to test for bipolar also. But the comparative symptoms list the psych gave me clearly puts Bibi into the ADHD category, though he has few elements of RAD too - reactive attachment disorder. But not many at all.
His missing out on the first six months of his life probably just set him back by 2 years. God, if that's all it is I want to simply accept that and remember it when he continues to behave like a 7 year old or younger. I have often thought he does it on purpose, as a passive-aggressive act of defiance. And perhaps he does sometimes, as protest against our high-pressure expectations.
I didn't like the way the guy was talking to me about Bibi though. I wanted to say "Hey! That's my son you are talking about." He spoke very insensitively of "this kid", as if I was a teacher, not his mother. Perhaps he assumed, since Bibi is black and I am white, that we share less of the mother-child relationship. Or perhaps, because I talk rather matter-of-fact, he thinks he can talk to me like a fellow professional. Scaring me with RAD, and telling me my son is bland emotionally, and has no sense of humour. Good grief! What does he know? One hour doing tests with Bibi and he thinks he can tell all that. Anyway, forgive him. Sure.
That chart the chap gave me was very helpful though. ADHD. Or rather, ADD mostly. This is not an easy diagnosis in itself, but it's a whole lot better than RAD or bipolar or any of the other things. Now we need to try higher dose of Ritalin and see if that helps. The edu psych dismissed the idea of foetal alcohol syndrome out of hand. It goes along with certain facial deformities and actual mental retardation. So no need to worry about that. Bibi needs to repeat grade 3 and get some extra classes. Thankfully he is quite ok with that, and glad not to leave his new friends.
Dear God, please help him. Not to catch up, that's not what I mean. Just to cope. To feel better about himself. Help us not to expect stuff he can't deliver. Please encourage him and give him motivation to carry on trying. Not to give up.
And what about therapy? Should we go ahead with that? Does he need it? Does Mimi? Please give us a clear answer. We could just go ahead with it, because it "can't do any harm". I'm still not sure if we found the right person. This psychologist I met yestderday at the FOF centre is going on maternity leave end of the year, so if this is going to be long-term, then we need someone else. They already had one change. What if they go back to Rebecca? Just find the money. I'm just not sure it made much difference. Ok I must complete the exercise and still go to Hillside also. Check out what counselling they offer there. Or ask the teachers at school. Maybe there is someone nearby here. God? Answer please?
Do they need counselling?
By whom?
Need answers urgently. Thanks.
Love, Zea
What are you saying to ME this morning? The two Spurgeon devotions did not speak to me. Remain in you. Yes. Fine. Anyway I have to go. Bye.
Wednesday, 23 October 2013
Blessed are
Just a quick Hello! Almost forgot. Almost forgot yesterday too.
Well this morning I got the answer to all yesterday's questions. Mimi wanted to recite the scripture they had to learn for school:
Well this morning I got the answer to all yesterday's questions. Mimi wanted to recite the scripture they had to learn for school:
Matthew 5:3-12
New International Version (NIV)
3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
4 Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
5 Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
7 Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
8 Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
9 Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
4 Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
5 Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
7 Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
8 Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
9 Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
11 “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.12 Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
There is my answer, isn't it? Tears actually came to my eyes as she recited the text. So clear, isn't it? Not great deeds, not making your mark, not changing the world. Just the heart issuse: neediness, mourning, meekness, hunger for righteousness, mercy, purity, peacefulness, persecution.
I can learn a thing or two about being a peacemaker. All too often I contribute towards conflict in the home by scolding, getting irate, being exacting beyond reason, giving conflicting instructions. And I can work on being merciful when the kids really stuff up. God help me in these areas please.
Please go with me now as I chat to the psychologist. Show me if this is the answer for our family for now. Or even for the next while. I really hope we find an answer soon.
Tuesday, 22 October 2013
Free love
Good morning God. It was a perfect day yesterday, wasn't it? At least it felt perfect to me because nothing went wrong, Mimi didn't tantrum, she wasn't even rude, and Bibi didn't lie - both super-motivated by dad's new system and taking things into his own hand of authority - and I had no reason to lose it. Lovely outing with Simmy. I love him so much, my little munchkin. He is a balm for my soul. Thank you again and again and again for that little miracle!
Then why am I teary-eyed today? I also feel to aimless and ineffective. There are all these great things I want to do, but I just can't find the direction, the energy, yes and I suppose for now the time, to do anything worthwhile. Ok, I know raising kids is worthwhile. I know this is true religion: looking after orphans.... Ok. I hear you. It's ok. But I'm sure there is more stuff waiting down the road? Please show me clearly, and help me not to miss the road signs!
From the Spurgeon daily devotional:
AM: "I will love you freely" Hosea 14:4
It is good to want to do things for me and people, very good. But I love you freely, without any good works. Let not yourself be driven by a desire to perform. Let all you actions flow from the knowledge and experience of my free love.
PM: "He shall take of mine, and shall show it unto you." John 16:15
God not merely offers us help, he helps. He does not merely offer us strength and comfort, he administers his strength and holds us. We don't have to draw the water of the Spirit from a deep well, no He pours into us of His own accord.
Come Holy Spirit, fill me afresh. Let me live in truth and forgiveness and freedom and power, in faith and joy and love. You know how I desire to help those in need. Especially the children and the poor. Right now I don't feel I have the strength to do much, and the little I do isn't worth the mention, but in time please allow me to become productive and active and to really make a difference in this world. Heal me please from my own sorrows.
Thank you, I am sleeping so well now that I am off the anti-depressants. Please don't let me slide back into depression, where I am (or feel) so useless to myself, you and everyone else. What a waste of time, to go about feeling down and not coping with life. I want my life to matter. But perhaps even that is grandiosity. Perhaps being a humble clay jar is ok. It feels too small. There is so much to do in this world, if only more of us could do something, more would get done. Where is my place in this world? What else have you called me to? Please show me Lord.
I think God is wanting me to stop being a lone ranger. I must link hands with others who have the same heart. I must learn togetherness, team-work, co-operation. Well, I know where to find those at least. But not yet, I feel. Not just yet. Rest, recover, let things at home settle, find help for your own family, your children, make sure you and yours are strong. First things first. Then the rest will follow at the right time.
Then why am I teary-eyed today? I also feel to aimless and ineffective. There are all these great things I want to do, but I just can't find the direction, the energy, yes and I suppose for now the time, to do anything worthwhile. Ok, I know raising kids is worthwhile. I know this is true religion: looking after orphans.... Ok. I hear you. It's ok. But I'm sure there is more stuff waiting down the road? Please show me clearly, and help me not to miss the road signs!
From the Spurgeon daily devotional:
AM: "I will love you freely" Hosea 14:4
It is good to want to do things for me and people, very good. But I love you freely, without any good works. Let not yourself be driven by a desire to perform. Let all you actions flow from the knowledge and experience of my free love.
PM: "He shall take of mine, and shall show it unto you." John 16:15
God not merely offers us help, he helps. He does not merely offer us strength and comfort, he administers his strength and holds us. We don't have to draw the water of the Spirit from a deep well, no He pours into us of His own accord.
Come Holy Spirit, fill me afresh. Let me live in truth and forgiveness and freedom and power, in faith and joy and love. You know how I desire to help those in need. Especially the children and the poor. Right now I don't feel I have the strength to do much, and the little I do isn't worth the mention, but in time please allow me to become productive and active and to really make a difference in this world. Heal me please from my own sorrows.
Thank you, I am sleeping so well now that I am off the anti-depressants. Please don't let me slide back into depression, where I am (or feel) so useless to myself, you and everyone else. What a waste of time, to go about feeling down and not coping with life. I want my life to matter. But perhaps even that is grandiosity. Perhaps being a humble clay jar is ok. It feels too small. There is so much to do in this world, if only more of us could do something, more would get done. Where is my place in this world? What else have you called me to? Please show me Lord.
I think God is wanting me to stop being a lone ranger. I must link hands with others who have the same heart. I must learn togetherness, team-work, co-operation. Well, I know where to find those at least. But not yet, I feel. Not just yet. Rest, recover, let things at home settle, find help for your own family, your children, make sure you and yours are strong. First things first. Then the rest will follow at the right time.
Monday, 21 October 2013
All things...
As walked into the kitchen this morning my eyes fell on the card my mom gave me a little while ago, after our first broken window, and especially the word "serve" jumped out at me:
"We know that all things work together for good to them that love God" (Romans 8:28)
In German the "work together" is translated as "serve". All things "serve" us for good. They may not be good themselves, but God makes them our servants and ensures we come out for the better. My darling daughter putting her fist through glass in her violent rage is not good. But God will subjugate that awful thing and force it to serve for our good.
Of course in God this "better" is connected with eternal things, not momentary successes. "Good" means to be transformed, step by step, into the likeness of Christ. To become more Christ-like. And often that process must perforce involve suffering. But we are constantly improving, becoming better people. More loving, more patient, more... yes, simply richer in the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
As I sat down at my computer just now, and turned to biblegateway to look up the scripture above, I saw the link to "Devotionals". That's nice, I thought. I can use that to help me focus my attention as I look to God daily. I turned to the Charles Spurgeon daily devotionals, and there - in the evening devotion for today - it asked "Why are ye troubled?" and this scripture from Romans pops up again. God definitely is speaking to me today in that verse.
Ha! And there is the same verse from yesterday too!
I want to copy the whole devotion. It is so timely and appropriate. It always makes me want to cry the way you answer immediately the moment we turn our ear toward you. God thank you.
Last night, when I shared with the kids the story of Jesus and Peter walking on water, I think they really heard me. Bibi prayed so beautifully afterward about walking on stormy seas, and he really got the message. Though he didn't say anything when I asked him if he had any troubles or things that scare him, I know he has and there is always so much going on deep inside him. He is also troubled with his struggle at school and at home, and this talk of him attending a remedial school next year. It upsets him God, to see how his little brother has no trouble doing things that he just cannot get right. Poor boy. God, please if the remedial school is the answer for him for now, please let it all come together, even though it is all so very late. Let there be a space for him, let the school accept him, please make a way. Just like you did for this school - you arranged everything in super-quick time just when we needed it. You gave us the question and the answer all at once. Please do that again. The question has come up and please provide the answer with it.
Wednesday we go to see the educational psychologist. Please show him exactly Bibi's strengths and problems, so that he can make a good and accurate recommendation. Please also help his teacher make an accurate assessment so the remedial school will accept him and know how to help him. By the way, does he have foetal alcohol syndrome? This thing popped up on the bipolar parents support group, and it is something we had not considered. We have checked him for everything else we could think of: ADD, with the occupational therapist, for thyroid issues, diabetes, low grade epilepsy, for sleep apnoea. Everything has come back normal. The ritalin is not making a diference and I somehow don't think a higher dosage is the answer. There is something else going on that we haven't found yet. What are the long-term effects of that? We don't know anything about his mother except that she was HIV pos. She could have been an alcoholic or drug addict or whatnot. Please heal his brain, whatever it is, dear Lord!
Wednesday I also go to investigate about family counselling, and ask for your guidance. With Mimi's bipolar (I PRAY they have experience with that!!!), Bibi's troubles, whatever they may be, both probably still suffering from early childhood trauma and adoption-related questions, Simmy's stuttering, my current status as a nervous wreck, popping fuses and being generally probably not a good mother, we all need help urgently. We need help interacting positively. We need practical solutions to all the rubbish. Perhaps it is all not so very bleak and terrible as I imagine. Already I feel so much better and in control, just for having decided to turn to you with a concerted effort. But there is a lot of work to be done. Please guide!!!! You can see everything clearly, and know what's going on in our kids. Only you know what will really help.
Phew! One day of Andy taking over the discipline thing and already we saw a change. He printed out calendars, on each for the kids, and started writing down stuff they did right and wrong. He has taken over as the authority in the home. He just doesn't get sucked in emotionally like I do. He doesn't take Mimi's bile or Bibi's lying so personally. He just shrugs it off, and they don't have that blackmailing power over him like they have over me. I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't deal with it any longer. What a relief to be able to say re discipline matters "talk to dad". Thank you for Andy! He's the best.
"We know that all things work together for good to them that love God" (Romans 8:28)
In German the "work together" is translated as "serve". All things "serve" us for good. They may not be good themselves, but God makes them our servants and ensures we come out for the better. My darling daughter putting her fist through glass in her violent rage is not good. But God will subjugate that awful thing and force it to serve for our good.
Of course in God this "better" is connected with eternal things, not momentary successes. "Good" means to be transformed, step by step, into the likeness of Christ. To become more Christ-like. And often that process must perforce involve suffering. But we are constantly improving, becoming better people. More loving, more patient, more... yes, simply richer in the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
As I sat down at my computer just now, and turned to biblegateway to look up the scripture above, I saw the link to "Devotionals". That's nice, I thought. I can use that to help me focus my attention as I look to God daily. I turned to the Charles Spurgeon daily devotionals, and there - in the evening devotion for today - it asked "Why are ye troubled?" and this scripture from Romans pops up again. God definitely is speaking to me today in that verse.
Ha! And there is the same verse from yesterday too!
Think you see him walking on the waters of thy trouble, for he is there, and he is saying, "Fear not, it is I; be not afraid."
Let the thought of his special love to you be a spiritual pain-killer
I want to copy the whole devotion. It is so timely and appropriate. It always makes me want to cry the way you answer immediately the moment we turn our ear toward you. God thank you.
Last night, when I shared with the kids the story of Jesus and Peter walking on water, I think they really heard me. Bibi prayed so beautifully afterward about walking on stormy seas, and he really got the message. Though he didn't say anything when I asked him if he had any troubles or things that scare him, I know he has and there is always so much going on deep inside him. He is also troubled with his struggle at school and at home, and this talk of him attending a remedial school next year. It upsets him God, to see how his little brother has no trouble doing things that he just cannot get right. Poor boy. God, please if the remedial school is the answer for him for now, please let it all come together, even though it is all so very late. Let there be a space for him, let the school accept him, please make a way. Just like you did for this school - you arranged everything in super-quick time just when we needed it. You gave us the question and the answer all at once. Please do that again. The question has come up and please provide the answer with it.
Wednesday we go to see the educational psychologist. Please show him exactly Bibi's strengths and problems, so that he can make a good and accurate recommendation. Please also help his teacher make an accurate assessment so the remedial school will accept him and know how to help him. By the way, does he have foetal alcohol syndrome? This thing popped up on the bipolar parents support group, and it is something we had not considered. We have checked him for everything else we could think of: ADD, with the occupational therapist, for thyroid issues, diabetes, low grade epilepsy, for sleep apnoea. Everything has come back normal. The ritalin is not making a diference and I somehow don't think a higher dosage is the answer. There is something else going on that we haven't found yet. What are the long-term effects of that? We don't know anything about his mother except that she was HIV pos. She could have been an alcoholic or drug addict or whatnot. Please heal his brain, whatever it is, dear Lord!
Wednesday I also go to investigate about family counselling, and ask for your guidance. With Mimi's bipolar (I PRAY they have experience with that!!!), Bibi's troubles, whatever they may be, both probably still suffering from early childhood trauma and adoption-related questions, Simmy's stuttering, my current status as a nervous wreck, popping fuses and being generally probably not a good mother, we all need help urgently. We need help interacting positively. We need practical solutions to all the rubbish. Perhaps it is all not so very bleak and terrible as I imagine. Already I feel so much better and in control, just for having decided to turn to you with a concerted effort. But there is a lot of work to be done. Please guide!!!! You can see everything clearly, and know what's going on in our kids. Only you know what will really help.
Phew! One day of Andy taking over the discipline thing and already we saw a change. He printed out calendars, on each for the kids, and started writing down stuff they did right and wrong. He has taken over as the authority in the home. He just doesn't get sucked in emotionally like I do. He doesn't take Mimi's bile or Bibi's lying so personally. He just shrugs it off, and they don't have that blackmailing power over him like they have over me. I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't deal with it any longer. What a relief to be able to say re discipline matters "talk to dad". Thank you for Andy! He's the best.
Sunday, 20 October 2013
New resolution
20 October 2013
This blog is a private devotion. So why a public blog? Because I need to make some kind of commitment to God, my children, my husband and myself to talk to my heavenly father daily, without fail. This blog is a kind of accountability thing. It is not so much for anyone to read, but for me to write - and to stick to it.
I'm probably going to fail. I fail at many things. But desperate times require desperate measures. I'm in a desperate place and in desperate need of God's help. I believe in Him but in all my years I have never yet learned the discipline of daily devotion - an old-fashioned word for a relevant and apparently powerful activity: seeking the company and assistance of the greatest Power in the universe, who is also my friend and father.
So, today I start, and I will try to keep it up. I hope blogging helps. I hope He helps. For I cannot help myself.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Dear God
Something is very sick in our family. The healing must start with me. I know the mother is the heart of the home. And I am sick. It also starts with you. So here I am knocking on your door.
I have drifted, avoided, hidden for too long. I need help so badly! I am scared of this life you seem to have mapped out for me. It feels harder than I think I have capacity for. I am falling apart. I can't do this. It is too difficult. But I am willing to believe that "with you we can do all things". Anyway, I have no other option. Either I must swim with you, or sink. Well I'm sinking at the moment. I'm suffocating. God help me! I'm drowning! I see the storm! The waves! You are calling me to walk on water but I am only a human.
"Look at me."
Well, that's why I'm here, that's what I'm trying to do. I want to do it daily. Somehow I want to learn the discipline of looking to you daily. Not remember you every now and then when I need saving out of a whirlpool, kicking water the rest of the time. I'm drowning. I need to learn to walk on water.
But then you and Peter got back in the boat. I need that support too. I need to be carried through the storm, together with others, rowing in unison, relying on each others' strength.
But then you also quieted the storm. I pray that this story will be repeated in our life.
Yesterday I had a vision of myself: a lioness in a cage. A small cramped cage. And my daughter on the outside poking and goading me through the bars. There I am - snarling, in pain, caught, unable to escape, and unable to defend myself. This is my lot. I find myself cringing and snarling every time she comes near, anticipating, fearing another onslaught. Responding explosively, defensively, wildly. Roaring, lunging, clawing, baring my teeth.
They say the mothers of bipolar kids have this big target sign painted on them. They are the venting machines. All their children's uncontrollable emotional gall gets vomited onto them. They say it's normal - this stabbing and goading: the surest symptom of bipolar disorder. The kids cannot take a "no" or even the most reasonable of requests without lashing out at someone. Sorry not someone, Mom.
God, is there a way out? I don't want to be in a cage. I don't want to be that wild animal. And I want Mimi to stop torturing me.
2pm
At church someone told about how God rescued them at sea this week. They got caught by a freak storm on a yacht during what they thought would be a quick and easy 14-hour run from Durban to Richards Bay. The engine failed, the mast broke off, they were floundering, tossed about by towering waves, in 48 knot winds, and they couldn't get hold of the coast guard. The waves were crashing over the boat, flooding everything, and they were in very real danger. At last they managed to radio the sea rescue and then it still took 8 hours for them to be found and towed to land.
I just looked it up. That's a "whole gale or storm". "Trees are broken or uprooted, building damage is considerable. Large waves (6-9 metres), overhanging crests, sea becomes white with foam, heavy rolling, reduced visibility."
The message of the service: "trust me." "Blessed are those who trust in the Lord."
"Trust me."
God, I do trust you. I have no reason not to trust you. When have you ever let me down? Help me now, please!
25 Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. 26 When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.
27 But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”
28 “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”
29 “Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 30 But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”
31 Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said,“why did you doubt?”
32 And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. 33 Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
This blog is a private devotion. So why a public blog? Because I need to make some kind of commitment to God, my children, my husband and myself to talk to my heavenly father daily, without fail. This blog is a kind of accountability thing. It is not so much for anyone to read, but for me to write - and to stick to it.
I'm probably going to fail. I fail at many things. But desperate times require desperate measures. I'm in a desperate place and in desperate need of God's help. I believe in Him but in all my years I have never yet learned the discipline of daily devotion - an old-fashioned word for a relevant and apparently powerful activity: seeking the company and assistance of the greatest Power in the universe, who is also my friend and father.
So, today I start, and I will try to keep it up. I hope blogging helps. I hope He helps. For I cannot help myself.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Dear God
Something is very sick in our family. The healing must start with me. I know the mother is the heart of the home. And I am sick. It also starts with you. So here I am knocking on your door.
I have drifted, avoided, hidden for too long. I need help so badly! I am scared of this life you seem to have mapped out for me. It feels harder than I think I have capacity for. I am falling apart. I can't do this. It is too difficult. But I am willing to believe that "with you we can do all things". Anyway, I have no other option. Either I must swim with you, or sink. Well I'm sinking at the moment. I'm suffocating. God help me! I'm drowning! I see the storm! The waves! You are calling me to walk on water but I am only a human.
"Look at me."
Well, that's why I'm here, that's what I'm trying to do. I want to do it daily. Somehow I want to learn the discipline of looking to you daily. Not remember you every now and then when I need saving out of a whirlpool, kicking water the rest of the time. I'm drowning. I need to learn to walk on water.
But then you and Peter got back in the boat. I need that support too. I need to be carried through the storm, together with others, rowing in unison, relying on each others' strength.
But then you also quieted the storm. I pray that this story will be repeated in our life.
Yesterday I had a vision of myself: a lioness in a cage. A small cramped cage. And my daughter on the outside poking and goading me through the bars. There I am - snarling, in pain, caught, unable to escape, and unable to defend myself. This is my lot. I find myself cringing and snarling every time she comes near, anticipating, fearing another onslaught. Responding explosively, defensively, wildly. Roaring, lunging, clawing, baring my teeth.
They say the mothers of bipolar kids have this big target sign painted on them. They are the venting machines. All their children's uncontrollable emotional gall gets vomited onto them. They say it's normal - this stabbing and goading: the surest symptom of bipolar disorder. The kids cannot take a "no" or even the most reasonable of requests without lashing out at someone. Sorry not someone, Mom.
God, is there a way out? I don't want to be in a cage. I don't want to be that wild animal. And I want Mimi to stop torturing me.
2pm
At church someone told about how God rescued them at sea this week. They got caught by a freak storm on a yacht during what they thought would be a quick and easy 14-hour run from Durban to Richards Bay. The engine failed, the mast broke off, they were floundering, tossed about by towering waves, in 48 knot winds, and they couldn't get hold of the coast guard. The waves were crashing over the boat, flooding everything, and they were in very real danger. At last they managed to radio the sea rescue and then it still took 8 hours for them to be found and towed to land.
I just looked it up. That's a "whole gale or storm". "Trees are broken or uprooted, building damage is considerable. Large waves (6-9 metres), overhanging crests, sea becomes white with foam, heavy rolling, reduced visibility."
The message of the service: "trust me." "Blessed are those who trust in the Lord."
"Trust me."
God, I do trust you. I have no reason not to trust you. When have you ever let me down? Help me now, please!
Matthew 14:22-33
New International Version (NIV)
Jesus Walks on the Water
22 Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. 23 After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone, 24 and the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.25 Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. 26 When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.
27 But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”
28 “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”
29 “Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 30 But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”
31 Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said,“why did you doubt?”
32 And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. 33 Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)