Category Archives: mothering

words, foreign & domestic

Posted on by May 31, 2023

We started a new routine around here last winter. While Vin puts the little boys to bed, Chamberlain grabs The Lord of the Rings and a hairbrush, and I read aloud while she brushes my hair. A few pages later, Vin comes back downstairs and listens in until I get to the next stopping point.

It’s been a beautiful, blissful way to wind down at the end of the day.

Until suddenly, it wasn’t.

words, foreign and domestic: territory that changes us

Suddenly, I couldn’t handle the slightest snag from the hairbrush. I was too tired to read or hold the book. Doing one more thing at the end of the day, even a relaxing thing like reading, was just one thing too many. Maybe several things too many.

At first I thought it was okay. Just normal mom stuff; we know what it is to live without sleep and to push our bodies further than we think we can go. But when several issues compounded and the pain got so bad it made my heart race, it was clear I needed to make an appointment.

So I went to the ANP with my list of woes. She listened, poked and prodded, and asked all the questions before concluding that I was dangerously sleep deprived and possibly dealing with an autoimmune disorder. She used words like “worried” (referring to her) and “shutting down” (referring to me) and “stubborn” (also me).

Her main recommendation was to do whatever it takes to start getting enough sleep again. And to help facilitate that, she had some other ideas.

You’re not gonna like this, she said: A 30-day paleo reset, and start weaning the baby. And she was right, I didn’t like either of them, but they both resonated with what’s going on, so, whatever. She also gave me a couple of supplements and some referrals for follow up, including labs and imaging. And just for kicks, bless her heart, she suggested other things too — but she used that word “stubborn” again (twice!) and admitted I probably wouldn’t even consider them. And she was right on that, too.

So I went home with the notes and the supplements and the packet of paleo information. A quick glance informed me that it meant no grains, no dairy, no sugar, no prisoners.

And then I dumped everything on the counter and made myself a quesadilla.

Which I ate while nursing the baby.

I told myself it was okay though, because the quesadilla had fermented jalapeños (See? Veggies and probiotics!) and I wasn’t starting yet, anyway. I’d start the whole shebang for reals in a couple of days, to give me time to get out the month’s newsletter and mentally prepare for what I was getting myself into.

“And now leave me in peace for a bit! I don’t want to answer a string of questions while I am eating. I want to think!”

“Good Heavens!” said Pippin. “At breakfast?”

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

For now, I would just read the paleo guidelines. I grabbed the packet from the counter and noticed it already had a smear of something on the back of it. I looked closer and realized it was cream sauce. Perfect.

The packet said yes to all the meats, yes to all fruits, yes to all vegetables. But wait – what’s this, special notes for autoimmune issues? No eggs, no nightshades.

What the heck is a nightshade, I thought.

It sounded like something out of Middle Earth, along with all of Tolkiens’s other unfamiliar words, like fen, tussock, sloe, dingle. That world isn’t an unfamiliar landscape to me – this is my fifth venture into Middle Earth – but the language continues to stretch me. Sward, eyot, wythe. Or turves, which isn’t so unfamiliar once you realize it’s the plural of turf; or meads, which is generally paired with “rolling.” Rolling meads. So, fields. Ahh, meads, like meadows. Gotcha.

I’m still not sure if some of the words are mythical – a whortle-berry? Is that real? Mallorn, athelas? Living in Alaska my entire life, there are plenty of names I’ve only heard of but never experienced – things like crepe myrtle, palmetto, full-service gas station.

We have our own landscape and language: tundra, birch, lupine, forget-me-not, cheechako, bunny boots. And places, too – instead of Lothlorien, we have Hatcher Pass; instead of the Rauros and the Withywindle, we have the Matanuska, Knik (pronounced “kuh-nik”), and Kenai Rivers. This is the language I know.

But no, I searched the internet, and nightshades are not from Middle Earth. Turns out, nightshades is actually code for All The Veggies That Shannon Likes Best.

Including jalapeños. Blankety blank.

So for the last several weeks I’ve been eating all the right things (except for my morning latte, which we won’t talk about), taking my supplements, drinking a ton of water, and taking in the Word however I can. And He’s been speaking to me about some new ways to do it.

The drink was like water…the effect of the draught began at the toes, and rose steadily through every limb, bringing refreshment and vigour as it coursed upwards, right to the tips of the hair.

– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

A year ago He asked me to start praying online, but now He’s asking me to read the Word – not just quietly to myself, but aloud to whoever will listen online. And like last time, I put it off because I wasn’t sure how to do it. Finally I clearly heard Him say, Just start doing it, and I’ll show you how. So I did, and He is.

Will I edit the video and make it fancy? Nope. Will I mispronounce names? Yes, unapologetically, and I’ll have fun doing it. Will I brush my hair beforehand? If past performance is any indication of future success, um…the odds aren’t very good.

But the Word is powerful, and the spoken Word is even more so, and God uses the enemy’s tactics against him in beautiful, ironic justice. When the CEOs of social media use their profits to fund or further the enemy’s agendas, what better way to respond than use those platforms to share God’s word?

All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work.

– 2 Timothy 3:16-17, ESV

I started about a week ago. Meanwhile, my imaging results came back clear and the labs ruled out autoimmune disorders, praise God.

Health and hope grew strong in them, and they were content with each good day as it came, taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song.

– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

This is beautiful news, not only because YAY, one less diagnosis, but also because I can eat nightshades and eggs again.

I’ve discovered that the way to appreciate a 30-day paleo reset is to spend the first two-thirds of that time fasting from nightshades, and then celebrating with the most amazing hashbrowns ever, complete with fried egg, mushrooms, and aioli.

And, in case aioli is unfamiliar to you, it’s just a little mayo mixed with an acid and herbs, in a million variations – vinegar, lemon, lime, cilantro, sriracha, garlic, swoon. My favorite is with lemon, cayenne (hello, you beautiful nightshade, you!) and dill.

So, Aioli – I’m pretty sure it’s Italian for “forgot to buy salad dressing.” And now you can add that to your vocabulary, too.

resilient: the trait that covers a multitude of sins

Posted on by February 16, 2024

Friends, this is an excerpt from Work That God Sees. Enjoy!

We avoided ER visits at least three times that spring day: Once, a sibling left her baby brother alone on the couch (but he didn’t fall on his head), and twice, another child was caught carrying a knife the entirely wrong way (but no one was stabbed). The dryer was busted, so we were channeling our inner Little House on the Prairie and clothes were hanging everywhere to dry. Also, our ice maker was on the blink because it didn’t like the glitter that fell into it.

resilient: the trait that covers a multitude of sins

We had tears during math, so I grabbed a file full of stickers – big stickers, little stickers, one sticker for every problem, I didn’t care how many stickers it took as long as she found joy in it – and suddenly I realized that I need the same thing sometimes, too. Not stickers, but whatever will bring a little more joy to the day and its drama: a fresh cup of tea, a few minutes with the cat, or an hour of outside time for the kids so I can read for a while in a quiet house.

I came across this verse, and in a moment of homeschool rebellion, wrote it in our math textbook:

Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.

– 1 Peter 4:8

This verse was good news because we had a multitude of sins that day on top of the chaos already mentioned: broken dishes, tantrums, yelling, an almost-ruined camera, blaming…I’ll stop there. But if we could love each other earnestly at the end of the day, those loud memories might quiet a little under His covering, and we might have a little less chaos tomorrow. 

I won’t pretend it’s easy, though.

We moved on from math to science, and my oldest son was reading about the discovery of protein structure. It was a hard process; scientists had already figured out how to find the structure of a molecule, but proteins were so much smaller and more complex that it made discovering their structure that much harder.

And I think it’s sort of like how I can understand how love covers a multitude of sins, but I am still trying to learn how to consistently stay loving in the midst of the chaos. Not everything is solved by a handful of sticker sheets or a fresh cup of tea. So many small humans, so many complex behaviors, and I am so often out of answers, out of energy, and out of patience.

Some days are full of life-changing events that threaten to devastate us: A diagnosis. A confession. An announcement. An event that happens so fast, we don’t have a chance to prepare for how it is going to shake our reality in the days to come. A multitude of sins.

Sometimes facing tomorrow is more than we think we can handle after the day we’ve just walked through.

“But,” as my son’s science book said, “some people have dozens of times more perseverance than the rest of us.”

And that’s what I want to be: Persevering. Steadfast. But also, resilient.

If steadfastness is pushing through to breakthrough, resilience is rising again after devastation or loss. They both move forward and they often go together. We are steadfast when we have survived the waiting; we are resilient when we have survived the breaking. And there are many days when motherhood breaks us wide open.

Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God our Father, who loved us and gave us eternal comfort and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts and establish them in every good work and word.

– 2 Thessalonians 2:16-17

We moved on to a Bible lesson, and the kids and I talked about Jericho: The marching, the yelling, and the walls falling down. The obedience, the declaration, and the miracle.

“It doesn’t make sense!” Chamberlain said. And she was right; it never makes sense. Marching around a city can’t make walls fall down, right?

But it did, because God told them to. Obedience is powerful. Especially when it doesn’t make sense.

Forgiveness doesn’t always make sense. Reconciliation doesn’t always make sense. Most big moves – starting a business, a mission, a family – don’t always make sense. Mothering in the midst of the overwhelm, in the clutter and the mayhem and the mess, and then getting up to do it all again the next morning in spite of how the day before attempted to break us, doesn’t make sense.

But here we are, you and I, doing it. Over and over again.

We can do whatever He’s calling us to: Adopt, give birth, defend the helpless, write the book, heal the breach, comfort the hurting. Cover the multitude of sins, earnestly love the sinner. We can survive the breaking, and rise from ashes. We can do whatever He says.

When school was done, we got in the car. And I don’t remember where we went that day, but I do remember that the trees were budding and it was in the sixties, and we drove with the windows down so everyone could hear our Alaskan kids complain about how hot it was in the Stagecoach. 

But all those tiny green leaves had a sermon, and they still preach to us: In case you ever think your story is over, God has given us nature to show us that a season of bleak winter is never forever. 

Go pray circles around that next step and kick up some dust, because this is how we cover the multitude of sins, and how we rise from the ashes. The Lord has given us the city.

You can find Work That God Sees here, and if you’d like future posts sent directly to your inbox, you can subscribe here.

what we know: tools for adoptive and foster families

Posted on by December 23, 2024

How hard is it to read the word “graph” when you know all the sounds? On a good day, not hard at all. But on a rough day when you’re operating from fear and control, impossible.

“What do the letters ‘ph’ say together?” I ask. He knows this.

what we know: tools for adoptive and foster families

Not only does he know this, but I just coached his sister through reading the word “sphere” two minutes earlier, so he just had a refresher course in the “ph” sound. And that might be the very reason he’s choosing this hill to die on – it makes it all the more obvious that he does know, but You Can’t Make Me Tell You.

“Ape,” he says.

We both know it’s wrong. He does a quick extra chore to regroup while I work with someone else.

I ask again. “Ape,” he says, knowing it’s still wrong, it will always be wrong, never in a million years will “ph” ever say “ape,” but if I asked him what his name is right now, he’s just as likely to answer “Hippo.” Or, you know, “Ape.”

Another chore. Wash some windows. Specifically, “Wash the two windows behind you,” I tell him.

He starts doing a third window, though. So I say, “Go ahead and finish that one. You can do three.”

He stops half way through the last one.

“I’m done,” he says. We both know it’s not true.

“How many windows did I tell you to do?”

“Three.” Okay, kind of. I’ll give him that.

“How many did you wash?”

“Four.”

“Really? How’s that?”

He counts the panes, two on each window – one, two, three, four.

“So how many did you wash?”

“Three.”

Because two plus two is three. Because what he’s really saying is, Ef you. You can’t make me.

And I can’t. We both know that’s true. But what he doesn’t understand yet, is I don’t want to make him.

I want him to do it himself. For himself. Because he is loved, and he is valuable, and his days are valuable. I know it’s true. Some days, I think he might finally believe it’s true, also. But not today.

Not all days are like this. It used to be, for years, that every day was like this and worse (so much worse), but now he goes in phases – good days and bad days, great weeks and terrible weeks.

But it’s Christmas time, and right now he’s having some really hard days, because festivities and gatherings and events, oh my. The turmoil this brings up for kids with a background of trauma can be immense, sometimes catastrophic.

But it’s nothing like it used to be.

It used to be, we had to avoid almost everything that involved people because people didn’t know how much their well-intentioned interactions with our kids cost our family.

It was easier to just avoid them. We could at least avoid those triggers…but isolation also cost our family.  

Eventually we learned how to communicate what our kids’ needs were to the people around us – family, friends, our church, our school, our medical professionals. And that quickly helped us discover who “our people” were – they were the ones who respected the boundaries our kids needed. The ones who didn’t, weren’t.  

If this sounds familiar to you, I have some quick resources for you to help the holiday season be more fun than a root canal without anesthesia. Been there, hated that. Some days, as you can tell, we’re still there. But it’s nothing like it used to be.

This post explains the Why Behind the Weird Limits to our people. It helps family, friends, teachers, and other professionals understand exactly why it is such a no no to overstep attachment boundaries with kiddos who have a background of trauma. It’s chapter 2 from Upside Down: Understanding and Supporting Attachment in Adoptive and Foster Families.

Or there’s this: The Upside Down Cheat Sheet is a quick, one-sheet reference. Don’t be afraid to click on it; it’s a free download, no signup required, with a few basic principles to remember. Print it out and give it away as much as you want. If you charge people for it (good luck with that), I will find you…and I’ll ask you to share your savvy marketing skills with me.

And, need the whole book? It’s just 100 (ish) pages – a quick, easy read, and it’s funny. Because I’m funny. At least, my friends think so. You can buy it in stores everywhere or get it directly from us and take advantage of our discounted prices for buying multiple copies. It’s also now available in audio here. Everyone needs this information and we want to make it easy for you to have it, because adoptive and foster families need real support and understanding from their people. If our community can learn, yours can, too.

So that is a look into our fishbowl, seven years into this. At least the windows are clean.

May your gatherings be filled with joy, and your home be filled with peace and as little aftermath as possible. What you’re doing is hard, but you’re doing a good job. And that’s the truth.