Six Weeks Home

Karina has been home for six weeks now and we are starting to see things settle down a bit. We have in the last six weeks shed a lot of tears, but also cracked quite a few smiles. Our daughter is grieving the loss that she has endured. A lot of times, her grief is released through anger. We have seen our share of rage filled temper tantrums over little things that shouldn't allow a second thought in normal circumstances, but we are not in normal circumstances.

Sunday night, Mike and I went to hear a missionary from Africa share her story and I left there with a new perspective. The speaker, Heidi Baker, was this amazing woman who has laid down her life to serve orphans in one of the most dangerous places in the world. I was so moved by her testimony and the presence of the Holy Spirit was so powerful that I found my self sitting on the floor, weeping uncontrollably for what felt like an eternity. I needed to shed those tears. I needed to cry out to my Heavenly Father. I needed him to wrap his arms around me and tell me that he was there with me. The whole time I was sitting on the floor, I could hear him telling me to cry some more. And I did, until I just couldn't shed another tear.

The next day, after waking up from her nap, Karina slowly crept into the family room. Ben asked her if she wanted to go outside with him. I told him that she would be out in just a minute, which was enough to set her into a tantrum. This was not out of the ordinary, so I just picked her up and rocked her in the chair waiting for her to calm down. In the midst of the screaming, she began to cry. Real crying from deep within her. I gently sat her up so that I could look in her eyes, and this time she looked straight back into mine. I began to ask her if she was sad. "Da," she replied. I asked her if she was sad about Kazakhstan. She looked at me like I finally understood her. "Da," she said. I asked her if she missed her friends from Kazakhstan. A wave of relief washed over her and she began to sob. She sat in my arms, reciprocating my embrace and cried from her aching heart. When she was ready, I asked her if she would like to see pictures of Kazakhstan and her friends. A real, genuine smile came to her face. We spent a long time, her sitting on my lap without trying to get away, just looking and talking about the pictures from her orphanage. It was a break though moment for us.

It wasn't as if I hadn't tried to talk to her about Kazakhstan or hadn't shown her pictures. She just didn't trust me enough to let me into that soft spot. That spot hidden deep beneath years of hardening. And just as I needed to weep, so to does my dear daughter. She needs me to share this sadness, this terrible loss in her life. Heidi Baker said the other night that God told her that he shares our suffering and joy. It is not one or the other. It is not suffering or joy, but suffering and joy. As hard as it might be, I want to share Karina's suffering and joy. I will walk down that dark road with her, holding her hand, carrying those sufferings, just as Christ has done for me.