Me 2!

The phrase "me too" is very common around here these days.   Every time, really every time, I say we are going to do "X" or "Z" Sunflower says, "Me too?  Me too?"  She points to herself and looks at me with her eyes shining with worry.

I easily resist the urge to answer, "No.  Mommy and Daddy and the guys are all going somewhere and we plan to leave you alone" because the anxiety in her eyes is so deep and real.  (Plus Oak and I believe in waiting until our children are three before teaching sarcasm.)

Instead I say, "Yes, Sunflower, you too."  Or occasionally, not often, I say "You are staying home with Mommy.  Just Daddy is going" because she usually only asks when it is clear we are all getting ready to do something.

If she was adopted I would be anxious that she was having attachment issues.  Since she isn't adopted I know it is part of the attachment process.   It is a natural part of her feeling secure in her family and finding her place.  Soothing her is a natural part of being her mommy regardless of how she came to our family.

There is one context she uses the phrase that doesn't garner reassurance but laughter.  

If someone asks if she is Sunflower, she shouts, "No, Me two!"

If someone mentions that SnapDragon is "too" cute, she shouts, "No, Me two!"

We laugh, hold our two fingers up with her, and say, "Yes, Sunflower, you two!"

Unconditional Love

Today I worked on my homestudy autobiography questions.  I am almost done with them but it was much slower than it should have been (I couldn't get myself to work on them when our agency was suspended or while my SW was out of town these last three weeks.)  However, I did work on them today and I had to delete Huckleberry, SnapDragon, and Sunflower more times than not to put in their real names.  My SW does not read my blog.  It made me laugh each time and once I had to stare at Sunflower for a full minute while trying to remember what word I was supposed to type.

On a more serious note, the article "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior" is creating quite a buzz in the online adoption and Asian communities.  Whatever Amy Chua claims her book means to say about extreme parenting that denies play dates, requires strait A's, and allows for parents to scream nasty words at their children* the comments section of the online article make it very clear that many children were raised this way and scarred by it.  My favorite Tonggu Mama addresses the balance needed between the extremes of "Eastern" parenting and the extremes of "Western" parenting that coddles children to build self-esteem.  Most of the discussion seems to be focused on how to find the correct balance between correction and praise.  I'll leave that to others; I agree it must be done; I agree it is difficult to do; I agree true accomplishments will build our childrens' self-esteem.  I don't see any need for me to expand on the topic because I don't want to feel completely redundant.

However, I do need to say something on this topic because it weighs so heavily on my heart.  When did we decide that giving our children self-esteem was more valuable than giving them love?  Okay, nobody would say self-esteem was more valuable, but I do believe our actions speak louder than words.  At minimum our culture and some of our school teaching choices give them equal weight.  "Give them the tools to feel good about themselves and they will feel loved."    No.    Help them feel loved and they will feel good about themselves.  As a parent I must learn how to communicate to my child that they are loved and valued for who they are regardless of mistakes or accomplishments.  If my child rests comfortably in my love, then he doesn't need empty praises to build self-esteem, he can accept correction or fail without sinking into depression and feeling unworthy.  The schools say we have a self-esteem crisis facing our nation; I say we have a love problem.

1 Corinthians 13:1-3: "If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing."

That said, I would like to share with you my understanding of unconditional love.  I wrote this in January 2005 to share as the devotion at a MOPS meeting 10 months before we started our adoption.  I was tempted to edit it to fit into my blog a little better, but all I changed were the names.  My awe at God's love has not changed.

"First child. Waiting for him or her. For me, that time was wonderful. An exciting time filled with happy anticipation. I would rock in my rocking chair, rubbing my tummy and reading my Bible. I sat at the table putting a butterfly puzzle together for my baby’s room, praying and listening to praise music. My life was neat, orderly; I was in perfect communion with my God and my husband. I knew the baby would change things, life would be harder, life would be less tidy. But I was prepared and eagerly anticipated the change.

I was wrong! Life wasn’t harder, it was impossible! Life wasn’t less tidy, it was a mess! Books cannot prepare you for a child (which is probably why the new Apprentice, street smarts vs. book smarts is a hit!). Daily Quiet times, even weekly quiet times disappeared. The perfect communion with my husband got some sleep-deprived scratches, and please don’t go into our bathroom! Ever! But I wouldn’t exchange my boys for the world, and it all boils down to one reason—Love!

I love my boys with an intensity and unselfishness I didn’t know I was capable of. And because of that, I now know how much God loves me. “How great is the love the father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God.” I John 3:1a We are God’s children, and He loves us. He loves us as we love our children, only with perfection!

I have some examples. First, do you remember how horrible it was to change the diaper of someone else’s kid? It had to be the worse part of being a mother, right? But with our own children, we take it in stride. We change sometimes 8-12 diapers a day, because we love our child. We don’t want him to have diaper rash. God cleans up our messy accidents everyday without ever tiring or wavering in His all-consuming love for us!

Have you ever had to deny your child something they wanted because you knew it wouldn’t be good for them? “No, you can’t touch the fireplace. No, don’t go in the pool without Mommy. No, you may not have another piece of candy.” They cry and throw a fit, but you don’t change your mind because you love them. You know with confidence you can’t let them play in the fire for their own good so you endure the fit, no matter that you can’t stand to see them cry. You want to comfort them, hold them, but sometimes they are so mad they won’t let you. But though it hurts, you are understanding, because you love them! 

God is the perfect Father. He never says no too quickly, in error, or out of laziness. He always knows what is best for us; and when we scream and pout because we didn’t get what we wanted, He wants to comfort us and cuddle us. Our pain hurts Him, but He never waivers because He loves us and will endure hurt in order to make sure we have what is best for us.

One day, I watched Huckleberry, then two, play in the backyard. Very patiently and with great care, he gathered sticks around the yard and planted them around the base of one tree. After two hours of hard work, he had 30 dead sticks standing proud and tall. If they had been living flowers it would have been beautiful landscaping. I watched him with my heart overflowing with love! What a cute boy I have, look how hard he’s working, what amazing patience. He wants to make his Daddy happy by fixing up the yard. Next time Oak plants some real flowers, we’ll have to let Huckleberry help. I have the best son!

When I rush around working hard, trying to please God, sometimes I completely miss the boat! I plant dead sticks in shallow, dry dirt. And God looks down on me with love. He doesn’t say “Hey, look at that moron, she just doesn’t get it!” He says, “Look how cute she is! She works so hard. She wants to please me. I love her! How can we help her use that energy more fruitfully next time? What a precious daughter I have!”

We love our children, and because we do, maybe we can finally believe God loves us even in our messes, tantrums, and screw-ups because we love our kids in their messes, tantrums, and screw-ups. I anticipated a lot of changes when I had kids, but I never expected to experience a deeper relationship with God when my quiet times went from consistent times of prayer and careful Bible Study to erratic short Bible readings, dinner blessings with occasional longer prayers, and the always present knowledge that the love I feel for my children is nothing compared to how God loves me. And God loves each of you!

Ephesians 1:3-6 3 How blessed is God! And what a blessing he is! He's the Father of our Master, Jesus Christ, and takes us to the high places of blessing in him. 4 Long before he laid down earth's foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love, to be made whole and holy by his love. 5 Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!) 6 He wanted us to enter into the celebration of his lavish gift-giving by the hand of his beloved Son.

If you haven’t yet accepted God’s invitation to be a part of His family, I can promise you, He is waiting for that day with as much eagerness, love and patient sorrow as you have ever felt for any of your children. He can’t wait to adopt you."

I read the blogs and comments that say to be a good parent love is not enough and nod my head sagely with them, but really what they mean is that namby-pamby feeling of love that depends on the actions and cuteness of our child is not enough.  I think the love that the Bible teaches--the love of action and sacrifice--that love is enough because it includes all those other things we need.

I Corinthians 13: 4-8:  "Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails."  (Read Tonggu Mama's Amplified Adoption Version for more insight.)

* This parenting method isn't just parents struggling to hold their temper in frustrating situations, it is purposely saying mean things as a parenting strategy to motivate and mold their child.  A wise woman told me a few days ago--the whole Bible is a parenting book.  Parent as God parents us.  He disciplines.  He encourages.  He comforts.  He loves.  He never, ever calls us hurtful names like garbage to motivate us.

 

My Top 10 Photos of 2010

The forum I actually post at and don't just read and Our Little Tongginator encouraged readers to pick their top 10 pictures of the year and post them on their blog.  I'm about two weeks late getting it done, but here is my post.

First, I did limit myself to 10 pictures.  Everyone else mentioned how hard it was to choose just ten, so I gave myself some rules before I started in order to help me pick.  I decided I could only choose pictures I haven't already posted on my blog, the pictures had to be from different days with a mix of my family, and once I had ten I had to stop looking.  This meant I only went back 6 months of the year and I skipped whole photo shoots of Sunflower (when the boys are at school I play with the camera a lot).  However, overall I am pleased with my selection.  So without any more boring introductions, here they are:

Here is Sunflower.  She is quite a little mama now with lots of dolls from her birthday and Christmas, but this stuffed lion was her first second baby (her first one was a plastic lion shape sorter that she rocked and fed).  This lion is currently residing in Texas since he stowed away in our friend's suitcase.  I love Sunflower's eyes.

Here is SnapDragon at Camp Invention a week long day camp that explores science and math in a fun way.  It is available in schools across the country.  Huckleberry has gone every year since Kindergarten, but last summer was SnapDragon's first time.  With their team they had to come up with a product and market and sell it.  Apparently SnapDragon's mall was closed.  Their favorite part of camp is taking apart a broken electronics they bring to camp and create something new and exciting to bring home from the parts and everyone's recyclables.  I consider ourselves lucky when the amount of "projects" they bring home is equal to the amount of recyclables we sent to camp.

My dreams of beautiful shots of my beautiful girl standing on the beach were shot when we discovered Sunflower did not want to stand on the sand even with shoes on.  We didn't need to worry about her running around during my brother-in-law's beach wedding since she would not move from the blanket.  If only being still also meant being quiet.

The boys dancing at the reception.  Everyone had a great time, especially Sunflower who gave the bridesmaids a giggle by stripping in the middle of the dance floor because her tights were too slippery.

 

Sunflower has always been able to communicate exactly what she is thinking with a look.  Oak says she gets that from her mother, but I don't have a clue what he is talking about.  I believe Huckleberry took this picture because I was not with them.  I didn't stay the whole family camping trip because it was the only weekend MOPS leadership could have their planning retreat--really the only weekend.

All of the children loved the splash park.  I've avoided these kinds of pictures before, but I really love this picture of Huckleberry.  In case you are tempted to use it for nefarious purposes, I have a tracker that tells me who downloads what and with my brilliant husband, google earth, and top secret satellites who knows what can happen, just saying.

What a better way to end the summer than with ice cream...in the car.  No worries for me...Daddy's choice, Daddy's clean-up.  (Of course, sometimes Mommy's choice, Daddy's clean-up also.)

I love this picture of my family holding hands and walking; too bad all those other people insisted on being at the fair. 

We do not get this much snow at our house but a few hour drive into the mountains will give the boys some snow time most months of the year.  Oak took this picture (with M's camera) because I didn't go with them.  It may appear that I avoid outdoor time with my family, but Sunflower needing to stay home to take a nap is a perfectly legitimate reason to stay away from all that cold, wet, ucky snow.

This photo isn't my most technically talented or artfully posed picture, but it is one of my favorites.  SnapDragon is reading to  Huckleberry the story he wrote him for Christmas.  I love my family.
 

Today I Learned...

I learned a lot today.  Yep.  I did.  Because I spent all morning day reading my favorite one of my favorite blogs.  For once most of what I learned is not adoption related, so I am excited to share because I know all 8 of my usual readers (5 who aren't yet part of the adoption triad) can laugh along with me today.

First, I learned why I don't get invited on many playdates.  I am not quite a stalker mom but I do have a lot of trouble reading social clues.  I probably do stay too long and talk too much.  Really, if that is what is holding you back just give me a list of written expectations--I am great at following rules if I just know them!

Then I learned that I am both succeeding and failing at the Life Cycle of the China Adoption Blog.  It warms my heart to realize that it is a natural part of the cycle to obsess over and have my emotional well-being tie into comments (or lack thereof) from random strangers that I now consider my closest friends which is in itself natural and odd.  However, I have never done a post on the anniversary of my log in date.  In an effort to correct that error I would like to point out that this Saturday is our 53rd month lid-versary.  Ummm, it is too depressing to talk about.  I will now complete that part of the cycle by not mentioning it again.

I learned that when you ignore your daughter all day to read blog posts she can and will fall down the stairs to get your attention.  Do not worry--she only fell a few steps and I think it is possible she staged it.  She did appear trapped upside down with her feet in the air and her hands behind her when I ran to in her in response to the thump and small cry.  When I picked her up she laughed.

I learned that the only reason I have not read a parenting book or blog mention that my emotional happiness or depression will at times be directly linked to my child's ability to use a toilet properly is because Tonggu husband wouldn't let Tonggu mama post on "The Ebb and Flow of Pee."  I am not saying that is what her post would have said since she was NOT allowed to post it.  But if I had a post on the ebb and flow of pee it would totally mention how depressed I can get during the potty training weeks months years.  Or how right now that Sunflower is potty training and doing great I can do the celebratory potty dance with real joy.  (This is the reason my husband wants more girls and not boys even if we adopt two.  Yeah, yeah, we know--girls can have potty issues, too, but you were. not. there.)

I learned I really hope my daughter comes from Tonggu province in China because by the time we go get her I will know how to spell Tonggu.

I learned that if my husband comes home and starts working on our to-do list I should probably stop reading blog posts and pay attention or my sister's Christmas (yes, I said Christmas, and no, I didn't mean Christmas 2011 but the one just passed) package will be completely wrapped up and ready for mailing without the checks for my niece and nephews included. 
 

"That's Not Fair!"

My SnapDragon is now 7 years old.  I'll probably refer to him as my 6 year old for a few more years, but he is 7.  He behaves like any other 7 year old--bringing up deep philosophical conversations in the car completely ignoring that it is really hard to hear him from the back of the minivan over Sunflower's singing.  I think the conversation went like this:

SnapDragon:  Addy* was treated badly when she was a slave.  Not all slaves were treated badly.

Me: That's true, but it is wrong to own a person no matter how you treat them.

SnapDragon:  I know.  Martin Luther King stopped that thing where white people couldn't go to school with black people.  He made it so that didn't happen any more.

Me: Technically that is true but--

SnapDragon: That isn't fair.  I have lots of friends who have blacker skin and I wouldn't get them as friends if they didn't come to my school. (His school is 47% Caucasian.)

Me: It isn't fair.  It was called segregation.  It is an example of white privilege which means because we are part of the majority race** we have the power and the money. (Remember I'm talking to a 6 7 year old and I never heard the term myself before this year.)

SnapDragon:  I wouldn't mind the money.  Then I would buy guns and fight.  No.  I wouldn't fight.  I would hold up little square signs that said, "It is not fair!  Stop it!"

That is my sweet little militant.  Learning about the Civil War at the same time as the Civil Rights Movement can be a little confusing.  What a great way to focus his middle child "everything has to be fair" syndrome.

* Addy is an American Girl Doll/Character
**I felt really odd saying the word race in this context.  Maybe I've read too much science fiction where race does mean another species but it felt very separating.  Usually I can avoid using the word race and just say Caucasian or Asian but defining white privilege wouldn't have made sense without the word race.
 

Ravioli--Culture or Just Good Food?

Introducing a culture to one's family is a bit tricky, especially when you weren't raised in the culture yourself.  Yet most everyone agrees that for a child adopted across cultures her family celebrating her culture is important.  Also important is letting the child see that there are many cultures represented within her family not just her versus everyone else.  This sounds great and fun, but I am finding it so hard.  I don't even know all the different heritages on my side of the family.  I grew up thinking my mom was 100% Italian and my dad 100% German.  Now my sister says we are Sicilian not Italian and looking at my mom's maternal side they are British or Welsh.  My dad says he isn't all German, but he doesn't know what else he is. To add to the confusion his family insists that if we were still in Germany we would be Jews except we don't have a Jewish name and my grandparents came from Wisconsin and were German Lutheran.  I know one can convert from Judaism to Lutheranism, but I find I am skeptical of the story.  

Then the next question becomes what aspects of my family culture comes from which cultural heritage.   Really I can only come up with one thing from my childhood that was from my ancestor's culture--Italian food.  Now I know I'm Sicilian, but does anyone call spaghetti, lasagna, and ravioli Sicilian?  Also, while it came from my mom's background it still doesn't mean we lived the Italian or Sicilian culture.  However, after reading Dim Sum, Bagels and Grits we decided to at least try to be more intentional at introducing our cultural heritages.  Here is the story of one attempt.

Growing up we always had Italian food for Christmas Eve dinner and other special occasions our family hosted.  My dad was a meat and potatoes man and allergic to tomatoes and dairy, so it was usually limited to company coming over.  I loved having company over because I loved everything Italian and despised hamburgers.  My absolute favorite dish my mom made was her home-made ravioli though her lasagna was a close second until she discovered an eggplant recipe and ruined it.  I always asked for ravioli as my birthday meal and I remember "helping" in the kitchen with a little ball of dough, or stirring the cheese mixture, or pinching down the edges of the ravioli.  I remember being astounded in college and beyond that all of a sudden I didn't like spaghetti when it used to be my third most favorite dish and not realizing until 6 years ago it was because no one else's tasted like my mom's spaghetti.   

The first time I read Dim Sum, Bagels, and Grit was right before Christmas Eve 2005.  We decided to have a traditional, according to my upbringing, Christmas Eve dinner.  We bought all we would need to make ravioli with a meat sauce with the usual sides--green beans and Italian bread sliced, buttered, and heated in the oven.  It was a disappointing experience.

Christmas Eve 2005

The food was good, but no one was happy.  The boys were sick with 102 degree fevers and had no interesting in playing with the dough, putting the filling in, or pinching the ravioli shut.  We would have eaten their germ infested ravioli if they were just willing to try.  As it was they had no energy and SnapDragon is naked in the picture because he was just that hot and miserable.  In retrospect my Mother-in-law's disappointing and continual disapproving response to the project can also be attributed to her being ill, but at the time it only made all the hard work seem fruitless.  We made ravioli, ate (or at least my husband and I did), read Luke 2, skipped Christmas Eve service, and all went to bed early.  It was not the introduction of a new tradition that I was anticipating.  

In the following years we had Italian food for Christmas Eve dinner when were home together, but always store bought lasagna, manicotti or ravioli.  This year I decided we were going to try again.  At Thanksgiving we told family we were staying home for Christmas Eve dinner and having ravioli.  People were welcome to join us if they wanted but we were staying home.  However, as Christmas Eve crept closer Oak's side of the family wanted to spend Christmas Eve together at his sister's house and they wanted us to come.  We talked about it and decided the tradition we were really introducing was making ravioli together as a family so it didn't matter where we ate it.  We told the family we were coming but we would bring our ravioli as a side dish to the ham and cheesy potatoes.

So Christmas Eve day, while Sunflower was napping, we gathered the boys and made ravioli.  It was a great success.  Exactly the fun family working together event I did want.

I chopped the onions and peppers for the sauce while Oak made the cheese filling.  The wine glass is in the picture because my mom insisted one was supposed to drink wine while cooking Italian food.  She never actually did but she drummed the expectation into me.  However, I don't drink wine, so there is coke in the glass.  Pretty sure I'm blurring the line between culture and stereotyping fairly badly here.  However, it felt quite festive to drink coke out of my crystal.

The boys did an incredible job helping Oak assemble the ravioli while I cooked the sauce.  They didn't give up until the entire batch was done--44 fairly large ravioli.

We cheated a little this time because we did not make the dough from scratch.  The first time we did but we also bought fresh flour spring-roll wraps to try.  We found we couldn't taste the difference but the store bought wraps were much easier to use.  My cousin remembers my mom's noodles being something different and special, but the plain noodle recipe we found didn't stand out as unique.  We might try other recipes eventually, but in the meantime we bought flour gyoza wraps and were satisfied.  (My husband bought gyoza instead of spring-roll because they were round and in his mind ravioli are round.  My mom's ravioli were always square.)

It took me the entire time the guys were making the ravioli to cook the sauce.  The onions took forever to cook.  We chose to make a pumpkin sauce because my mind could not accept ham coordinating with any red sauce (unless it is Hawaiian pizza).  It was already stretching to combine the two meals, but pumpkin seemed like a way more acceptable side sauce than anything with a tomato base.  According to the internet pumpkin is a common pasta topping and filling in Italian dishes but not one I had as a child.  It turned out pretty good, except the left over ravioli were more satisfactory with red sauce.

Here are some of the ingredients.  Yes, we always have this much olive oil (or EVOO) in the house.  It is way less expensive to buy it in this quantity and we do our best to use it all.  According to Rachael Ray this is proof I am Italian, but I think it just shows I am a Rachael Ray fan (or was; I haven't seen her show since t.v. went digital to give all Americans better picture quality and taking away my ability to get steady over the air reception).

The final product:

We cooked the ravioli at my sister-in-laws and reheated the sauce and served it with the ham, cheesy potatoes, and grated Parmesan.  The traditional green beans became a green bean casserole and the Italian bread became rolls.  Everyone tried a little and a few of them liked them.  Overall, it worked well as a fun family tradition.  As far as introducing Sicilian culture to my family maybe not so much.  At minimum, based on my one meal with my maternal great-grandparents, we didn't serve enough food.  My family traveled to the East Coast to visit when I was in 5th grade and they didn't choose between ravioli, lasagna, spaghetti, and fried chicken for dinner--they served them all.

I have no problem believing my child from China will have sorrow over the loss of her cultural heritage.  I feel a little of that sorrow for myself.  However, we will make attempts.  Some will succeed; some will fail.  None will be adequate for us to be considered Chinese or Sicilian, but all of it will be interesting to explore and we will rejoice in enjoying whatever depth we can reach.

Compassion

My Biblical Counseling class talked about the strengths my spiritual gifts will bring to counseling and the weaknesses these same gifts will have.  Basically being able to see and speak truth is very useful, but it needs to be balanced with mercy and compassion.  Even though I don't know if I will actually become a Biblical Counselor, I have been praying for God to increase my compassion.  I do not like it.  I do not like being more aware of the pain of others and feeling compassion for their pain.  It hurts.  I'd rather stay ignorant and clueless and stomp on toes and dismiss others' pain.  I know that living isolated from other people's pain is not what God intends, but...

I guess part of the problem is that I am able to have more compassion because of my own pain.  I have not always used my pain to grow in compassion, but I've asked to grow and God delivered.

I feel compassion for my husband and his siblings because I know what it like to lose a mother to death.

I weep for the family of Katie, a 14 year old daughter adopted from China and dying from cancer, because I am a parent and I know how devastating the end of cancer is by watching my step-mom pass last January.  One of the recent posts done by the mother of Katie talked about how little Katie ate and yet she rejoiced at the 1/2 Jamba Juice, and I wept.  I remember the same excitement of feeding my step-mom two spoonfuls of soup.

My most recent "aha" I finally understand and feel sorrow for/with you is for people struggling with infertility.  I don't know what they are going through, but my heart has grown two (or at least one and 1/2) sizes bigger in this category.  Partly because of a discussion about infertility and adoption on my favorite forum and partly because of this week's Sunday Linkage which led me to this post (a list of over 200 posts about infertility and adoption).  I have only had time to read about 5 of the links but the descriptions and the links I read stirred my heart.  I was one of those ones that thought (I never said!) but thought "why don't they just adopt."  But now I finally get it.  The loss of one thing is not replaced by the gain of another.

People sharing their stories helped, but again it was because God linked it in my mind to my own life.  I feel like I am in a similar yet completely different situation.  Right now I feel like we will never complete an adoption.  Realistically I believe we are 14-18 months away from a NSN referral.  That is what I thought in August, also.  Technically the passing of September, October, November and December should have brought my timeline to 10-14 months.  I cannot believe in that, though many do.  I hope they are right or that God sees to bring us to a match another way.  However, right now I "just" feel pain at the waiting and the lack of hope and the desire to have my child in my arms and start loving on her.  

Many could look at my life and say "why don't you just have another bio kid?" or "you have three kids, 2 boys and a girl why do you need more?" or the more direct comparison for me is: "God gave you Sunflower while you were waiting; why doesn't she satisfy your longing for a daughter?"  Because while I always said I don't care if my kids are bio or adopted, I think I should have finished with "as long as some of them are adopted."  If we never adopt it will be a hurt on my soul, one that will heal and not prevent a contented life, but will have a scar.  I am not trying to claim my pain is necessarily as deep as someone desiring a bio child (comparing measures of pain is not a good idea anyway), but it helps me understand and express sympathy for those who are hurting.

God is helping me learn more compassion by linking other people's pain with my own scars and bruises.  I need these links to open my mind to other perspectives.  Right or wrong, I need new perspectives to feel mercy.  I am glad God is stretching me to show and feel more compassion even though it hurts.  I just wish growth in compassion came with the right words to say in comfort.

(How is that for a long and wordy way to say "I feel sad today?"  Blaming it on growing in compassion is a lot more spiritual than I didn't drink any Coke today.)