Coping Strategy 1: Seeing One-At-A-Time

The noise is almost deafening at times. The activity on the floor is constant and doesn’t end until almost midnight then starts again by eight. Two new borns adapting to life without the touch and voice of the mother they experienced inside the womb. Te-chan is on life support. Eight children in foster care, five of them Down’s. Overwhelming is not an adequate word. None of my former coping skills are adequate for this situation. Paul said, “…momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen…” (2 Cor. 4:17-18) But, with Hitomu drooling on me as he tries to crawl up my leg while I am feeding Rin in her high chair and Shota screaming because Ma-kun pushed him over, it is almost impossible to see the unseen. How do I handle the “seen” when it’s in constant, demanding motion?

“See” each as an individual. No one spontaneously breaks into dance like Shota. Tomoki is alive to each and every experience and gives unrestrained vent to any and all emotions. When Ma-kun jumps from the coffee table into your arms, he throws his head back, looks heavenward, and leaps without ever doubting someone will catch him. And, Rin…while she is wary of strangers, delights in the appearance of “daddy.” Last night as she sat on my lap facing me, I interrupted one of her favorite activities, bouncing her head off my stomach, when I broke into song. She stared, almost blank faced, as I sang an old scripture song to her. When I finished, without changing her blank stare, she started clapping. That was priceless.

When I told Elizabeth I was learning to look at the individual instead of the group, she commented, “God doesn’t look at YOU as a group! He looks at you as one person.” Jesus said, “Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto ONE of the LEAST of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” I’m learning to do it unto ONE at a time and see ONE at a time. Now, if I can just teach the babies to scream, need a diaper change, and get a bottle one-at-a-time.

The picture above shows 7 of our foster care babies on the sofa.

It is now 1:55 A.M. July 6, 2010. I am very tired. Nearing the end of the most difficult 12 months of my entire 58 years. I'm still alive, still married, still sane [relatively], and still walking with God. It is amazing what humans can handle. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." The problem is, "I don't want to do all the things Christ strengthens me to do." It is not a question of Christ's sufficiency, it is a matter of my "will." Christ is not limited. His resources are available. The choice is mine. Will I "choose" to accept "His strength provided?" If you read this, let me hear from you.