This year the season changed early. In the middle of August, fall is upon us. The days are cool, the nights cold. And the light of summer is gone. Fall is my favourite season. With mixed emotions, I greet it … Continue reading
Raine has been struggling since my grandmother passed away. There have been some good days but mostly she’s been very off. The herbal medication that’s been working wonders for nearly a year is no longer making any difference. Most of the time, Raine is edgy and filled with anxiety.
When I ask how I can help, her answer is, “Can you change death? That’s all that can help me now.” Loss has marked her life in a variety of ways. Losing her great-grandmother is likely opening old wounds.
To cope, Raine and Athena play “funeral”. Athena pretends to be dead. Raine races around the house “trying to get to the funeral on time!” No doubt this has to do with the concern about being late for my grandmother’s funeral. As we were about to leave, the dog we’re watching escaped from the backyard. Piling the kids and the babysitter into the car, we drove around to find him. Then I brought them all to my parents’ house where the babysitter was to watch my kids and my nephew. Arriving slightly later than I’d hoped, my brother-in-law was no where near ready. So we waited. With whispered speculations, I wondered if we’d make it on time.
In the children’s game, there are several versions. In one, Raine makes it on time and is unsure how to mourn the loss of her sister. Another involves Raine being so late she misses the funeral and Athena is already buried – under a blanket or the dinning room table. In the third version, “Jesus makes Athena come alive again.” Then there is much rejoicing and no need for a funeral.
Hoping to ease Raine’s grief, we visited my grandmother’s grave last Friday. I 
brought daisies from our garden for the girls to put there. We parked by the funeral home, then walked across the bridge and over to the cemetery. That way Raine would have the full picture of the funeral and graveside procession.
I don’t know if it helped. But we did it.
Mostly, I’ve been telling her how brave she is. “You love even though your heart’s been hurt. That makes you especially brave.” It is remarkably brave for Raine to open her heart to so many when she’s lost so much in her short life (birth parents, other birth siblings, the home she knew, the country she was born in, friends of mine who have moved on with life, Sabrina* and Megan* – foster children who were with us for a very long time – and the list goes on).
Still Raine greets everyone with confident exuberance. She’s sure she’ll be loved and is ready to do the same. Even in the midst of grief, Raine is choosing to love.
*name changed
Friendship… is not something you learn in school.
But if you haven’t learned the meaning of friendship,
you really haven’t learned anything.
Athena opting out of Kara’s attempt at t-ball with the crew
Friends are my greatest earthly treasure. I can’t imagine life without them. Some have been around a long time – like Erin who I’ve known since I was a toddler and Kara came along when I was 13. Others I’ve met more recently and we share a more immediate history.
Often, I’ve wondered if my girls would have the same joyous experience of having each other and a close circle of friends to see them through life. There were times when Raine’s behaviour made me mournful. She couldn’t see how vehemently she was pushing away her peers – including her sister.
Raine and Kara’s daughter, Ruth
a quick dinner along the Grand River
Even I was refreshed after our long day.
After rallying briefly, my grandmother passed away the evening of Tuesday, June 24. I was glad we made it out to say goodbye. The funeral was brief and small.
Truth be told, my grandmother was often stern and forthright. Sometime in my early adulthood, smiling stopped coming naturally. Then my daughter, Raine, came on the scene. The moment the 3yr old walked into the retirement home, a smile overtook my grandmother. Though vivacious and engaging, Raine hadn’t said or done a thing to warrant the grin. Since this was long before any thought of adoption, the response was significant since Raine was possibly only a passing figure in our family.
My grandmother developed a connection with Raine that reminded me of who she was in my early childhood. Early on, she told my mom, “I’m not going to be a typical grandmother. I won’t be around to babysit all the time.” It’s true, she was busy with commitments in her community – a small town not far from the city where I grew up. Still, grandma folded my sister and I into her life.
Often we’d spend weekends with her and my grandfather. Both hard workers well past retirement, they brought us along to their various jobs. My grandfather cared for racehorses. My sister and I got to brush the animals, feed them apples, and play in the hay loft while he did whatever else needed to be done. He was a quiet, gentle man who never said much. But his eyes were full of joy whenever he saw us. Grandma cleaned the large, traditional church she’d grown up in. Saturdays my sister and I went with her. We crawled under the pews dusting as we went. Then we got to sneak through secret passages from the sanctuary down to the basement.
Behind their country home, was a vast field and forest. My grandfather had special permission from the landowners to travel through the area. A former farmer, he needed to walk the land on a regular basis. As we grew older, my sister and I were allowed to explore the forest on our own. We made up fanciful stories while sitting by the small creek.
In the evenings we’d watch Wheel of Fortune or Dallas after snacks of cinnamon sugar on toast. There was a quiet hush in the house. I think my sister and I both appreciated it. Many mornings we’d silently look through the antique books on art and local history.
In our early years, my grandmother wasn’t harsh. But she wasn’t bubbly or gushing like other grandmas we knew.
In some ways I’m a lot like her. She was strong and independent. Often, without much fanfare, she went against the flow. The legacy she’s left me is one of commitment and confidence.
We’re both adoptive mothers. My dad came to her the same way my daughters came to me. So much of our stories intersect. Intentionally on my part, I’ve extended our family through adoption. I’ve continued something she began. Flawed and human, she embraced a child not born of her own body. My dad took their name. It’s remains with me and has been given to my daughters. They in turn may bestow it on other children who don’t share our DNA. This is our unusual family tree. This is what my grandmother unintentionally granted me – the freedom to love and grow outside of convention.
me as an infant with my grandparents
Today is father’s day. It’s true – my girls don’t have an earthly father. As Athena is quick to point out, “we have God, Jesus, and Holy Spirit. That’s three!!” More than the average kid.
Our life is wonderfully unusual, I know. Intentionally I chose to become a single mom. I’m ok with that. And so are my kids. Since their arrival, I’ve been it – the only parent around. To us it’s just the way it is.
Of course in a perfect world, I would have married when I was young and the foster children who come to me would be greeted by a lovely mom & dad. That didn’t happen. I’m grateful God isn’t hung up on perfection. He’s willing to bend the rules. In doing so He brought me two delightful girls that I get to keep forever.
Today I’m focusing on what my kids have instead of what they don’t.
They have a mom who loves them. Even though I fail repeatedly, I’m not giving up on them or myself. Relationships aren’t easy. Each is an opportunity to grow in grace and compassion. I’m making the most of every opportunity!
My girls have a great community who love them. We’re surrounded by other families and individuals who come alongside us. My daughters have friends they’re growing up with – something that was and is a very special part of my own life.
My own family have embraced Raine & Athena. It’s hard to believe that some extended families don’t welcome adopted children. Sadly, this can be the case – especially when the children come broken and, at times, resistant to love. Thankfully my parents, siblings, and their spouses have all welcomed the addition of my children.
My daughters have a stable home life. They lack no good thing (Psalm 34:10). The Lord has provided a beautiful home and the necessary finances to keep us afloat. He’s opened the doors for me to be home full-time with my kids. This means the world to them and me.
Most importantly, my daughters have a Heavenly Father who loves and cares for them. They live in abundance – lacking nothing.
Wonderfully Unusual 