Adoption = Redemption

My son sits, miserable, on his bed.

“How could you?” I ask. “Seriously. What goes on in your head?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry?”

“You sound like you’re asking. Are you asking me if you should apologize, or are you apologizing?”

“I’m apologizing.” Squirming, he still won’t meet my gaze.

“Honey, you’re better than this. I really, really need you to stop hurting other people.”

Sighing, he says, “I know. But he made me mad.”

“How did he make you mad?” I ask. “He was just standing there!”

I think of yesterday’s conversation with the assistant principal. “You have to realize that every adult who supposedly cared about him has disappeared. Every time he thought he was safe, your son was left to defend himself,” Mr. L reminded me. “By alienating and scaring the other children, he’s ensuring that if the adults fail to protect him–or disappear completely–no one will even consider trying to hurt him.” 

The assistant principal was right. I sit next to my boy. “Look. I know that you’re scared. It’s a new school, and you don’t know who you can trust. You’re trying to make sure no one else will hurt you; I get that. But honey, you have to realize that these kids don’t even know you. Some of them aren’t nice, but most of them are. They want to be friends. You need to be kind.”

He looks up at me, eyes glimmering with the tears he so desperately hates to release. “Okay.”

“And sweetie,” I say, “I know that other places have made you move out because of your behavior. But I promise you: Daddy and I will never, ever let you go or kick you out. I love you more than life itself. That means I would die for you. No matter how bad your behavior is, I will always, always be right here, and I’ll love you no matter what you do. I will not disappear.”

He rockets into my arms with a strangled sound, sobs soaking my shoulder.

After several minutes he calms, then wraps one chubby arm around my neck. “You know, mama, sometimes I think maybe you love me even more than God.”

About Casey

Adoption = my life. I'll give it to you straight. Success, failure, truth.

Posted on September 23, 2014, in Adoption, Blogging101, Writing101 and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 22 Comments.

  1. Rowing Partner

    Great writing, and so true. It is fascinating to me how God brings people in to assist you when the real issue is disguised to you. Adoption teaches many lessons, the most predominate to me at this time is just how much he loves each of us in spite of ourselves.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I cried! You couldn’t have handled it any better. I’ve learned over time raising my children and even trying to change unwanted behaviours of my own. It’s a process. First its awareness, then it is working to actually do it differently. Sometimes you get it and then right after you can realize you didn’t have it completely. With your loving support your son will get there that is for sure!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Loved the post. Not an unnecessary adverb anywhere. I love how you handled the situation without raising your voice or resorting to drastic measures. It’s the love from this moment that he will remember and cherish for as long as he lives.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Very powerful! Keep doing a wonderful job of raising him! He’s blessed to have you and your husband!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. A powerful post with amazing imagery

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Brought tears to my eyes. I told my son, who just became a father, that the best discipline is love. If you love the kid, everything becomes easier. You are an awesome mom!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Love and boundaries. We used to “give grace” when the kids did something wrong (but we still wanted to give them ice cream, or whatever) but we learned that, at least for ours, that doesn’t work. They LIKE to know that there are cause-effect consequences (both good and bad). Both kids are happiest when they understand bad behavior=negative consequence, good behavior=positive consequence on a consistent basis.

      Liked by 1 person

  7. I felt like I was right in the room!

    Liked by 2 people

  8. He doesn’t feel loved by God.

    Liked by 1 person

  1. Pingback: Blogging 101: Day 9 – Rough Diamonds | Half as long, Twice as bright

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