Sometimes I think that I live in a madhouse. Maybe I really do. If I start to tell a close friend about our circumstances, I become reflective while relaying the situation. What happens in our house really does sound crazy. We are dealing with adopted children and their trauma. I cannot begin to explain the "ins" and "outs" of all that goes with that.
Tonight, I saw my husband, Jeff, do a beautiful thing: while our 13-year-old acted like a totally selfish toddler, my husband was filled with grace. He responded kindly to unkindness. He showed mercy to an unmerciful child looking for a fight.
Sometimes, the traumatized child needed their developmental gaps revisited. That seemed to happen tonight. Jeff switched gears and treated a 13-year-old like he was three, and the results ended much better. So, when the kiddo started yelling upstairs for me, saying, "MOMMY!" I went up there and sang to him, just like I did when he was three. He did so much better when I lowered my expectations.
Glory to God for insight into our "next steps" in dealing with the beautiful mess we call life. He truly provides when we seek him in prayer.
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