when it gets hard and you are who you hate

I am kicking Ginny out of our house for 2.5 days come Tuesday.  She deserves more.  But this currently seems tantamount to cresting Everest- so we’ll celebrate instead of mourn the fact that 2.5 days is a gold medal moment.  I am the very dad that scoffed at fathers who acted like they were super heroes when they took care of their own kids…behaving as though they had done something worthy of a cookie.  Or- worse yet- call dad a “babysitter” and I would verbally molly wop you upside the head.

“it’s really more fatherhood than babysitting don’t you think?”  I would say with a curled up forehead that said, without words, that I thought you were an idiot for using that word in that context.  And I still hold to this- by the way- but I am just setting myself up so I can show you how I’ve been knocked down.

 Isn’t God a funny one?  Here I am- hands out, reaching for a trophy- cause I am sending my wife away for 2.5 days (not only that, 2 of the 3 rascals are going to the grandparents for ½ the time and it’s really more like 2 days then 2.5, but I’m holding on to that half day like a man with a comb-over holds on to his last strands).

She has strict instructions not to worry; these are tethered to a strict expectation policy:

• They will be healthy and fed. 
• That’s it.
• Anything else is cream.
  • Probably not on time, if there at all.
  • Macaroni for 8 meals straight could happen.
  • Expect the hair of the girls to harbor amoebas.
  • Expect urine from the boy to be all over the bathroom.

I don’t talk about Lena much.  And that is on purpose.  I am tentative to type about something I know so little about.

 Ya’ll she is a mess of a 7 year old girl.

 Her behaviors determine our days.  And I’m afraid to be honest with you- about how hard things can be with our beloved daughter who lives with CP, autism, traumatic brain injury and the list goes on; the one who left her first 5 years of life in an institution behind.  The girl who understands far more of the world than you would ever believe if you happen to met her or spent 5 minutes with her.  But if that 5 minutes became 5 days, you would know.  She is smart.  And she is feisty.  And if it not for both of those, she would not be here.

The world has harmed her and we can’t tell where the disability ends and the emotional scars begin.  But we know both exist.  And we don’t talk about it much.  Cause what is there to say?  Besides, I end up in a place just ready to pounce people and blame them for what they’ve done.

And I know what I would be thinking if somehow I weren’t me and I could read what me wrote….. you chose it.  And we did.  And we would again.  See what I know I can’t make some of you believe and I am not a good enough writer to help you understand is….

Nothing of the difficulty means for one minute that we desire for anything to change.  I have a feeling you can’t help but project your belief that a simple life is better.  But I don’t buy it.  We’re fighting through and Ginny bears the brunt of most of the battle.  I just cheer and pray and jump in when she tags me.

And we love it.  And we’re believing God has called us to it.  And is in it with us and that He is sufficient.  If we’re right, we’ll see Him in clearer ways than we dare to imagine.  And if we’re wrong and our faith in Him is misplaced, and He is not who He says he is at all.  Then we love her still.

But we do believe in things unseen and we see that He uses the simple things to confound the false wisdom of this world.  So go on, Gin and bring my trophy back with you.  I hope God shows himself to you while you are away and to me while I am with the ones He has called us to.