Every Person has a Story

The decision was made and it was time to tell the kids.  My husband and I had agreed to reveal the news to our kids at dinner that night when we were free from distractions and could discuss the details of our announcement.  We didn’t anticipate the reaction we’d receive from our little five year old son but the moment that first tear fell, we realized in an instant what he heard versus what we said  - and our hearts melted.

My husband broke the silence as five little mouths distractedly let the world around them vanish as they gobbled down their evening meal, “We’re going to move to a bigger house.  It will have more bedrooms so we’re not so crowded and a big backyard to run and play.”

Across from me, a fork rolled off the palm of our child’s small hand and dropped to the ground.  Silent, sincere tears of sorrow began trickling down his cheeks.  Our stomachs immediately sank and a realization washed over us.  He has never moved WITH his family before.  Moving for him means getting a new mom and dad.

Recovering from our lack of insight, I quickly told him, “We’re all moving together.  Every one of us.  We can all go looking at houses together and we will show you your new bedroom and how close it will be to our bedroom.  You’re coming with us.  All of you are coming with us.”

The tears left his cheeks streaked with sadness but he looked up at me for the first time since hearing the news.  ”But my toys…and my bed…and my blanket…and Lily (our dog).  I don’t want to leave them.”  For most of us, it is quite obvious that all of these items come with you when you move.  You would never even consider leaving behind your belongings at your old home or assume you would be getting new parents.  For this little guy though, it was his reality.  His first three years of life were not spent with his mom and dad. They were spent with relatives and mom’s friends.  When our youngest son came into foster care via the hospital after being born, birthmom didn’t even know for sure where her other two sons were living at the time.  It took the social workers two days to track them down before they too came into foster care.  After being placed in a foster home for 6 months, they moved permanently into our home. It breaks my heart that I was not there for my sons when they were young and needed me most.  The life they lived prior to our home is something I could never even imagine.  Uncertainty.  Fear.  Unstable. Neglect.  No control.

“Follow me everyone.”  I picked up Zach and held him in my arms as I carried him down the hallway while kissing his forehead and wiping away his tears with the side of my hand.  I pulled out a cardboard box and taped it up to hold it’s shape.  I grabbed my purse, something they knew I never left the house without, and placed it in the box.  Les placed his favorite hat that he frequently wears when we go out to run errands.  All of my kids are intently watching what’s going on – I tell my oldest three, “I want all of you to go get something you are bringing to the new house and put it in this box.”  They left the room and quickly returned.  Niki with her art supplies.  Chris with his helicopter blanket.  Zach with his stripey blanket.  It’s interesting that they chose their blankets to pack because these were what we gave them on their first night in our home as we tucked them into bed.  I grabbed the diapers and wipes for the two babies and placed them in the box as well.

Les scanned each of their faces and soothingly told them, “We are all moving to the new house together.  Everyone can pack their stuff in the same boxes if you want.  The only thing that is not coming with us is the house itself.  Everything else is coming with us including all of you.”

You could feel the tension start to slip away and hope being replaced.  We gave each of them a kiss and spent a little extra time tucking all of them in bed that night not minding the extra questions and requests.

Each one of us has a cross to carry.  Each one of us has our own story of struggle and endurance. It’s in these moments that our faith in God seems to not only flourish but thrive as we continuously seek His comfort through our sometimes pleading prayers.

We have each been molded by the circumstances of our lives – intricately formed with each step along our path.  Our experiences are not the same as our neighbor’s experiences.  I will never understand the pain of leaving my home never to return to my parents again.  I can, however, show patience and love to my sons as they try to cope with their own feelings of loss.  I can teach them to trust that I will always be there for them and thereby teach them to trust others once again.

I can also show patience and love to my neighbor when they act or react in a way I find confusing or abnormal.  There are many circumstances I do not understand because I’ve never had to face them.  I may or may not know what my neighbor has experienced in their past.  It doesn’t matter.  What matters is that I approach them with a caring heart and a kind word despite their reaction to me.  Teach them to trust again.  Teach them to love again…by my actions towards them.  Every person has a story.

Save, O Lord, and have mercy upon those who envy and affront me, and do me mischief, and do not let them perish through me, a sinner.  (Evening Prayers, Orthodox Study Bible)