A Letter to My Church

To our brother and sisters, our friends and our family in Waldport:

The time has come to remember, to celebrate, and to part ways. Our time here has come to an end so that you may walk into a new beginning. Our epilogue is the new beginning of what God is doing next here in this place, through you and in you.

We are grieving our separation from you as deeply as you are grieving us. But we must turn to the next thing, becoming single-minded as we stretch and begin the next leg of our race, and so must you. Yes, this is difficult. It was not for no reason that the apostle Paul called it “straining” toward the goal. It is a strain. It is difficult. Yet we press on.

We are grateful to you for countless moments shared talking, laughing, crying, praying, eating, playing, working, and singing. We are grateful for your help and hospitality, your patience and forgiveness, your love and affection for us and our daughter. Truly we could not have asked more of a congregation. But as we prepare to step away, I ask one thing:

If you love us, feed these sheep.

Feed the children and teens and young adults who come to church, and the ones who don’t. Feed the Frontline kids, the Young Life kids, the graduates, and the younger siblings. Feed their parents and their unplanned babies. Feed the hungry and the stuffed with overconfidence; the talented and the awkward; the go-getters and the do-nothings; the thinkers, dreamers, in-betweeners. Feed their leaders all the support, resources, and encouragement they can hold.

Feed them with Oreos and soda and pizza and chips. Feed them Mondays before Club and Sundays at Frontline. Feed them a sandwich at the game, lunch out just to talk, or a holiday feast in your home. Feed them the next day with the leftovers you sent home.

Feed them the Word, with Scripture that never changes in language they can understand. Feed them words of recognition and encouragement in the grocery store, at the car wash, on the street. Feed them the Living Word by being the Christ who gives rides to town, who helps with financial aid forms, who simply knows their name. Be Christ with your presence where they are competing or performing or just plain being.

You can do this. You can make a difference. You are ready.

We have taken many steps together, but you can go on in this work without us. God is with you. He will make a way. “He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber” (Psalm 121:3).

And so, as the time draws near, I am finding rest in remembering that Jehovah Jireh, the God Who Provides, is also the Prince of Peace. He will make the way, and He will be present to comfort us when the road seems long and the distance great. And so, dear friends,

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

(Ephesians 3:14–21)

He is able, and I know you are willing. I can’t wait to see what He does with you next.

Blessings—

Wendy

Let's See How Far We've Come

2003

2004
2005

2006

2007
2008

2009

Graduation Matters

Saturday in early June: graduation day in Smallport.

Funny hats. Crepe paper. Lame metaphors. Overfrosted cake. It seems like a lot of hype for something everyone’s supposed to do, doesn’t it? Most people these days do get their high school diploma. Where I grew up, most kids were heading to four-year colleges. High school graduation wasn’t the achievement; it was just a step along the way.

Then there’s all the clichés. A whole new beginning—really? The most significant day of your life—really? If these graduates are going to go out and change the world, how come after all these years it hasn’t really changed much?

Yeah, I’m trained to be cynical about graduation. But I also remember: for some kids, graduating really is a major achievement. It really is the end of their education, and it may be the point after which they’re on their own—and in this world of postmodern adolescence and this town of poverty and drugs, a lot of them have already been on their own in too many ways for too long.

I graduated with over four hundred others, and families were not supposed to cheer when our names were called, because the band members’ fingers were already cramped from playing “Pomp and Circumstance” twenty times. Only those who were trying to be funny or thought the rules shouldn’t apply to them dare violate this edict. Everyone just wants to move on. We took it for granted.

In a small town and a small school, graduation is different. Here there are about fifty graduates, and the ceremony is open to all. Every graduate’s name is on the wall. Every one appears in the senior video, their cute baby photos and awkward middle school days and greatest sports achievements fading into each other over John Cougar Mellencamp and Green Day. And every one gets their moment of applause and whoops from the crowd when their name is called. We pause. We let each one have their moment. We join in, because even if we are not family, when we come together in the old, echoey gym, we are community.

When these community members—not your parents—were the only ones cheering for you at your game, at your play, at your poetry reading, their cheers for you now matter.

When you are first in your family to earn a diploma, graduation is a big deal. It matters.

When you walk with a baby in your arms, commencement is a victory. It matters.

When you have difficulty learning, a diploma is a prize. It matters.

So today, we cheered. We cheered for them all: for Chatterbox and The Playmaker; for the cheerleader and the guitar guy and the computer geek; for the valedictorian and the one who almost didn’t pass; for the one everyone in town knows and the one who wonders if anyone would miss him if he were gone.

They deserve it.

They matter.

Congratulations, class of 2009.

Overheard in Youth Work

Student 1: What’s a commodity?

Student 2: Your mom.

File under: Best Use of Old Joke to Disrupt Speaker

Overheard in Youth Work

Student: Except for the three houses right by us, we don’t have any neighbors.

Like Cops, Only More Embarrassing

Great Moments in Youth Ministry

We had about 30 teenagers here for the Super Bowl last week, as is our custom. We project the game on the wall—now in 3-D!—and even have balcony seating (in the loft). Aw yeah, this is a party house. (And it could be yours! For sale!)


Monday we had perhaps the greatest Young Life scavenger hunt ever: Mattress Madness. Four groups of about eight kids, each group carrying a mattress around town on a photo scavenger hunt. Leaders drove around trying to catch them; they would lose points if they were tagged not all jumping up and down on their mattress. Like idiots. Highlights:

• I got to ride shotgun with a night vision video camera and a ten-thousand-jiggawatt spotlight (I'm sure that's legal).
• In an attempt at a spy-vs-spy -style sneak attack, I jumped out and sprinted two blocks with a Mag light, alarming some guy who seem unsure if I was robbing him or being robbed.
• One kid got yelled at by a grumpy cop for running into the street to flag down the cop car.
• One group got eggs thrown at them; one girl got hit in the head.
• The Post Office and some banks will see one heck of an entertaining show if they look at their security camera footage.
  

In short, it was awesome. It was like Cops meets . . . a bunch of idiots jumping up and down on mattresses.

Alas, all photos are currently undergoing forensic examination to see which groups cheated (most). But I'll long treasure the memory in my mind. And in my calf muscles. I really don't do sprinting. Ah, the things the love of young people adrenaline and sugar can compel an old person like me to do.

Overheard in Youth Work:

Impulsive Cop-Chasing Student: "I said we need our picture with your car and he said, 'You're about to be in my car!'"

Merrymaking Mouseketeers

'Tis the season for rampant festivities! And ours ramped up this weekend.

Saturday I helped make an army of Christmas Eve Mice for the youth Christmas party. I am usually not very crafty but I will make an exception if it's edible. These are fun to make, especially if you have a few friends on the mouse assembly line with you. And they're almost too adorable to eat--though I managed. Even their spare parts are delicious.



But watch out. Sometimes they get hungry and start to organize.



Or even cannibalize.



Sometimes you have to make an example out of one to keep them in line.




Sunday was a big day since Aaron preached at church and we had the Frontline party at night (with the watching of some sport in between, though it did not really resemble pro football). The last couple years we've had a progressive dinner for the kids at a few church families' houses, but there are getting to be just too darn many of them. So we rented out a great little coffeeshop/restaurant and had a really nice dinner there. The helpers from church decked it out gorgeous, the food was great, and it was a nice intimate (okay, pushing crowded) setting for a little Charlie Brown Christmas and singing. I think the kids enjoyed it; some of them never go out for a dinner that nice. Heck, rarely do I--it was pretty darn nice!

Monday we did some more cookie decorating with friends. Don't worry, I'll eat them all before we leave town. By myself if I can have to.

This is the first year we'll actually be here for Christmas Eve and Christmas--usually we travel, but this year we leave on the 26th. I'm so excited that we'll be here for the candlelight service. I always love that and our church all decked out and in candlelight will rival any for beauty worthy of the occasion.

And I'm excited for what sounds like it'll be a very, very white Christmas in Michigan. Lots to do before our trip, though, and work calling too. Fa la la la la . . .

The Transition Team Announces: Change.Wetzel

Ducks are in rows. Wheels are in motion. Proposals have been accepted. Tiny adolescent hearts have been broken. And the transition team of Change.Wetzel wishes to announce:

Aaron will be starting studies at Western Theological Seminary in Holland, Michigan, in fall 2009.

Your first reaction to this news probably depends greatly on where you live. For our friends and family in Michigan, there is much rejoicing. Here in Oregon, well . . . there is great support, great understanding, and great love, but there is also great sadness at the thought of parting from the place and the people which have very much become home and family. (So no gloating, please, Michigan folk.)

Aaron has been accepted to WTS to study for his M.Div degree and become an ordained pastor. It’s a three-year program. This is something he’s always thought about doing someday, and over the last couple years he’s had more opportunities to preach and lead in different ways and received more encouragement that made him more able to see himself doing it. He’s just ready.

And I’m pleased to be able to fulfill the prophecy laid out by my best friend back in high school, that I will be a pastor’s wife. (I also recall something about the organ and a “pastor’s wife’s butt,” whatever that means, but let’s let that part go.)

I should have declared a moratorium on mascara last week, because it was terribly emotional. A few people—basically the church elders—knew our plans but we wanted to tell a few more in person before the whole congregation found out. But we didn’t want it to get out to the kids; we needed to tell them ourselves, all at once, so they didn’t hear any misinformation or feel slighted that some were told and some weren’t. Sunday morning the church was told (not gonna lie, I cried through church and then avoided talking to people) and Sunday night Aaron told the kids at Frontline. The girls, the grownups, and Aaron bawled.

We’ll be here and Aaron will keep working for the church through the school year. We hope we can help the church and our friend from the Foursquare church who has been partnering with Aaron on Frontline this year be able to keep a ministry to kids going strong into the future. We really hope our church has a pastor by summer too. It’s such a strange and difficult time to be breaking this news and bringing more change upon our church, but we hope the long notice will actually help smooth the transition.

Besides, we couldn't wait any longer to tell—do you know how much stuff we have to figure out before summer? We have to get our house ready to sell, try to sell our house in this lovely market, look for a job in the lovely Michigan job market, find health insurance on the open not-for-sick-people market, figure out finances and financial aid, figure out what to do with our pets (boo hoo), figure out how to move across the country, get rid of everything we don’t want to move . . . and oh yeah, do it all while proceeding through our regularly scheduled life with a toddler underfoot.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Help! Will you be my transition team?

I hope to step up my blogging since I have a thousand rampant thoughts clamoring to finally get out of my head. Let me know if you have questions I can answer.

Fowl Ball

Young's Life's grandest tradition: Turkey Bowling!



No turkeys were harmed during this game. Well, okay, three. But there were no fowl balls, and leftovers to spare. (You know you are just gobbling up these puns.)

Having apparently avoided contracting any form of salmonella sickness, I am off to pick up my mom at the airport soon. She and my dad were in Florida last weekend for my cousin's wedding, flew home Sunday, Monday morning she taught kindergarten, then had conferences, taught this morning, and flew out here in the afternoon. Whew! Grandchildren are quite the stamina-boosters, it seems. But how am I going to keep up?

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wordless Wednesday: Series of Tubes

Manic Monday

Yesterday was really one of those Mondays that's so very . . . Monday!

Aaron has been having terrible back pain. A while ago he had some tight muscles and muscle spasms, but this round is more in his side and chest as well as back, like the way his ribs hurt after his heart surgery. So Friday he got an x-ray and Monday the doctor was supposed to look at it.

In the afternoon I was trying to get my mishmash of a Young Life talk straightened out so I would only make a fool of myself during the humorous parts of the evening, not while trying to be deep and wise. No small task. In the middle of naptime Aaron came home to quickly drop off all the stuff for Club because the doctor was trying to work him in and he didn't know how long it would take. The doctor decided to make him go get a CT scan--which is fine since the x-ray was useless and better safe than sorry, but this was at 5:00. So he headed to the hospital, I rushed to try to get Anna fed and ready to drop off with the sitter, remember all the Club stuff, pick up Aaron's pain prescription, figure out if I had to pick up any kids, and try to get to the Clubhouse before the student leaders got there (I failed but another leader was there).

We had to alter Club plans a bit since Aaron couldn't go doing any crazy dance moves again(!) and we were just hoping he'd make it in time. He did, and Club went well considering how frazzled at least I felt. Perhaps we are funnier when we mess up than when we rehearse!

All that to say, I'm glad my talk is done with and I can get back to battling dishes, dog hair, and editing deadlines--all of which seem to lurk around every corner around here.

No actual diagnosis from the doctor yet--message was nothing serious, we'll call back. I will update if there's anything to tell.

Overheard in Youth Work

Smart aleck announcer 1: The quarterback takes a knee! And . . . she hands it off? Umm, I know it’s Powder Puff but I’m pretty sure that ends the play.

Smart aleck announcer 2: Actually, rule 34a of Powder Puff states that when the quarterback takes a knee, it’s an automatic turnover.

The girls dominated tonight. Seems like they always do.

Surviving Weekends; Alienating Babysitters?

That was a really long short full weekend. (Kind of like this post. Sorry. Everybody needs an editor and I'm too tired to be mine.)

Friday is normally Aaron's day off; he had to go in to work, and I went to church for a while to get some things ready for our big congregational workshop Saturday. (Then we had a really nice evening with friends, but that is beside the point because I'm trying to garner sympathy here, okay?)

Saturday I went to church at 8:00 a.m. (I know!) for our 9:00-2:00 meeting. I had to give the first part of the presentation, trying to act all smartypants with my PowerPoint and my statistics and my worksheets and my making the people hold up their fingers so they would remember what number group they're in (a very sophisticated business technique). We had a great turnout and everyone seemed pleased with the discussions, so I guess all went well--but that's just draining when you're largely responsible for making sure it does.

Rescued the babysitter, put Anna down for her nap, entered catatonic why-aren't-I-napping-too? state. Got Anna up and bundled us up for the youth group bonfire on the beach. We had about 25 people enjoying hot dogs, s'mores, football, and (in Anna's case) getting sand all over themselves. It was chilly at first but the wind actually died down and it was really nice to be out there. (Photos to come.)

I brought Anna home for a bath, and by the time Aaron got home she was running around like a crazy, diaper-clad Tazmanian devil: spinning, dancing, falling down, crawling back and forth under the dog, and doing her favorite cheerleading moves (the Irish Rumble). She was so hilarious! We just sat around laughing at her and shaking our heads at her insane antics.

Sunday we had church (again! in the morning, again!), then watched football, if that's still what you call it. Anna was a wicked combination of overtired and stubborn and didn't fall asleep until 4:00. I don't know what was up but after about an hour she woke up screaming . . . and pretty much didn't stop for an hour.

Aaron had to leave just after she got up and she FREAKED. OUT. and wouldn't settle down. She was in almost constant meltdown, falling apart at any little thing or no apparent thing. She didn't want to eat, wouldn't really let me eat, had no patience and a hundred demands. I had worried that the weekend would be too busy for her (babysitters and going places and teenagers--all beloved but exhausting) but wouldn't you know it? I couldn't skip Frontline because we would be splitting up the guys and girls and I had to be on the "panel" for the guys' discussion.

Somebodyerother's Law: The only time your child will need you to stay home will be the one time you cannot skip out on being somewhere else. Or to put it another way, if there is a function you must attend, your child will choose one hour before that function to FREAK OUT.

Now mind you I'm not mad at Anna for this. She clearly was overtired and needed some quiet time at home. I'm not sure if/how attachment factors into the clingyness and anxiety that seems to show up at such times but if us going off and doing things makes her feel insecure/needy, well, that's not her fault either.

So at 5:30 I called the lady from church who was going to watch Anna during Frontline and said I didn't know exactly what I was doing but didn't think I should take Anna to her house (where she's never been before). I thought maybe I'd go late and leave early and have somebody amuse Anna at church for as little time as possibly necessary. Now mind you we'd already had a little confusion and changing of plans that morning as to the evening's arrangements. So I felt like a real schmoe telling this lady who obviously now was all ready and excited to have Anna over that I wasn't going to bring her. But I really felt like if I took her to this new place and then left, there would be total meltdown that I would be paying for much longer than the hour and a half.

Anna did settle down by about 6:00 and I called back and said if you could come to church and watch her during the discussion part, that'd be great, and if not because you've written me off as a weirdo indecisive paranoid advantage-taking freak who can't understand the concept that you wanted to be at your house because it's not easy for you to get out and about, that's okay, I'll ask someone else who is there or whatever since this is really all my fault and problem anyway.

Okay, I didn't exactly get all that out. I don't know what I said but I hope it sounded somewhat humble and intelligible, and mostly I hope that she doesn't think it was about her or her house at all and will be willing to try again another night. It really wasn't--truly Anna was not in a good state and I didn't want her to think I was punishing her for it. But how do I explain the attachment issue connection when I'm not even sure if there is one? Objectively I think she was just tired but in my gut I think if I'd pushed it there maybe could have been some attachment implications. Or whatever you call her velcroed to my leg crying for three days. I don't know, maybe not, but I didn't want to put her (or me) through it.

People with attachment/adoption experience, what do you think? Am I fully or only partially nutters? I need some parental affirmation here!

Of course Anna was a bouncy little angel the whole time in the nursery, thus ensuring it seemed like she would have been fine anytime anywhere. Oh well.

The good news is that even though we had to be gone again Monday night, she had a grand time with the friend who came over and was good today despite being up late again.

The further exhausting and scary yet exciting news is that we had at least FIFTY-THREE high schoolers at our first Young Life Club on Monday, practically busting out the walls of the little clubhouse. May I remind you that this was the first club and there are only 225 kids in our high school--a fifth were there. And I'm pretty sure it was the rowdy fifth! Oh, lordy . . . what the heck are we going to do with them all?!

Whew. For some reason I'm tired. Thus I'm publishing this in its ridiculously long and wordy state. If you made it this far, you are now probably as tired as I am!

So This Is What the Weeks Look Like Now?

Yikes.

We are moving full tilt into insanity season around here. At least one of us has had something going on every night for ten days straight, and it's the same through next week with the exception of Friday. Young Life is starting up, Frontline is going strong, there's all kinds of school events, and these days we both have church meetings too. (Added bonus: Aaron's back is killing him.) I am trying to be organized by planning meals ahead so it can be something easy on busy nights, so I don't have to cut into my work time to get dinner ready, but I think we'd better get used to the kitchen looking like this:


Okay, clearly we're already used to this. But I do try to draw the line at cultivating mysterious fungi.

Anna was clingy and whiny and grumpy as all get-out today and I hope it's not because she's been with so many different sitters lately. I think she was tired and is getting another tooth. But Mamaaaaaa she says. Maaahahahahaaahmaaaa, noooooo, don't go to the bathroom without me, I'll diiiiiiiieeeeeeee.

It's really not her most charming mood.

Of course we took her with us for a YL meeting and she could not have been happier to run around and dance and play with everyone. You'd never know she'd been grumpy, unless you'd been in the van ten minutes earlier when she thought we weren't going to be joined in five seconds by Daaahaahaahdaaaaa.

What is this? Some sort of anxiety or missing us, or just a moody toddler?

I hope that if she's better rested tomorrow and I give her some extra attention if she needs it she'll be more mellow. Even extroverts need some quiet time. Or their mothers do, anyway!

Getting Sit(ter)uated

Where have I been all my life? Oh yes, I have been chained to my computer again, until today, when I escaped to forage for groceries and things to wear with my new red corduroy jacket (which I adore despite my lack of a fashion clue what to do with it). Unfortunately during my many work hours I was easily distracted by shiny things like news! information! interviews! disasters! sudden plummet in office temperature! Sesame Street spoofing Monty Python! Lions fans wailing and cursing their quarterback and coach (why didn't we see that coming?)! Since my work was paid for the project, not the hours, well, I think I made minimum wage this week. Sheesh! (Going back to hourly this week—so I will actually stay focused. I'm distractable but I'm an honest biller!)

I'm kicking off this next round with three days of solo parenting, since Aaron is going to Young Life leadership camp with the other leaders and some kids. Boo hoo, I'd like to go, but Anna wouldn't be so easy to sneak in this year (as she was last year), and anyway, I need to be at a church workshop for our pastoral search committee. Yes, you can say it: SUCKER. But they needed as many people as possible and I like to think I can be kind of useful in the writing of reports (although last time there was a church self-analysis, ahem, didn't work out so well. We do not speak of it.).

All these things gearing up as we get into fall suddenly has my calendar full and my brain spinning with wondering how am I going to do it all? and who's going to watch the kid while I do? All the youth work obviously involves Aaron and me at the same time. Last year I took Anna along to Frontline, which worked semi-okay but won't work any more and limited my usefulness. I didn't do anything with Young Life except help with planning, but I want to try to get back into it.

That means activities that require me to get a babysitter Sunday nights, Monday nights, Wednesday nights if we start our small group study back up, and possibly whenever we decide to have our church meetings, if it's not a time when Aaron can be home. Not such a problem except that during those times all of the young people will be where we are, so I have to find, you know, real grownups.

And all that work I've been doing in the evenings? Most of it's going to have to get done during the day somehow, because if I'm not off somewhere, probably Aaron has a meeting or there's a school sports event that he/we should attend to connect with kids. But life's getting too freaking expensive, so I should really be upping my hours, not cutting them back.

I think I can hear what all of you who are smarter than me are saying: And just how do you think you're going to do all that?

I have no earthly idea.

Excuse me while I go burn my day planner in effigy.

Freedom Fog

Home alone (with Anna) again. Aaron left for Young Life camp early this morning. Since I'm not swamped with work this time, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself so far. Maybe it's just that I'm tired and this blah marine layer of clouds, but I can't quite get myself going on any of the many small tasks and decluttering projects I'd like to tackle. Need to find the zone.

We have had a busy couple of days. Aaron had a lot to get done before camp and it seemed like kids were being extra flakey about not committing, then telling someone else they wanted to go, then not doing anything at all to make that happen. You might think we could just ask their parents to make a decision and stick with it but around here a lot of parents are just as flakey and some of them don't have working phones (and I do mean at home or anywhere, not just not having cell phones) so getting ahold of them and getting signed health forms to them and back was a headache (not that said forms include any information anyway since there is often no health insurance).

SmallPort always has fireworks on the 3rd, and nearby Hippieville has them on the 4th, so you can get a double dose if you want. On Thursday, the 3rd, we parked our friend's truck down by the bay and planned to car pool from our house to that base point. It was a really nice day until about 5:30 when a horror-movie-esque fog swallowed the town. (I really like using my horror movie voice: "It's . . . THE FOG . . . Nooooooo!") Here is the scene at 9:00 p.m.:


And here is where they shoot off the fireworks. See it? It's right there, in THE FOG.


A little less summery than last year.

When the fireworks started you could only see the bottom half of them. They were half-circles instead of full circles. But five minutes into the show, a little breeze kicked up, just enough to blow away THE FOG enough for a nice show. Chilly though!

Anna quickly learned to say "Oooooooooh" with us, although she probably didn't know why (are there owls?). She liked watching the fireworks and dogs ("Whoof!") and kids ("Babyyyy!") and was not freaked out at all by the fireworks. Not even the cannon sounds of the can't-be-legal ones somebody set off by us on the beach. Of course the real fireworks aren't very loud since they're set off basically over the ocean and we were across the bay.

We opted out of the Hippieville parade and fireworks display on the 4th, but in the afternoon I did go with a friend and Anna down to Hippieville to see one of our students/friends sing. Now that town is a display. A public display of affection . . . for tie-dye. And long skirts. And beads. And hemp, in all its many forms. We saw:

(1) A cool chick grooving on the guitar. Yay Jul!


(2) Pirate hippies and (3) Marge Simpson?


(4) Colonial pirates? and of course (5) fairies! (Duh, where do you think the La De Da Parade came from?)


Ah, Hippieville, USA--home of the fashion free and brave!

Yaaaaay, freedom!

Any Youth Worker Could Have Told You That

"Depression, teens and marijuana are a dangerous mix that can lead to dependency, mental illness or suicidal thoughts, according to a White House report being released Friday. . . .

"For example, using marijuana increases the risk of developing mental disorders by 40 percent, the report said. And teens who smoke pot at least once a month over a yearlong period are three times more likely to have suicidal thoughts than nonusers, it said.

"The report also cited research that showed that teens who smoke marijuana when feeling depressed were more than twice as likely as their peers to abuse or become addicted to pot — 8 percent compared with 3 percent."

Really? Pot is not a good thing? And it's addictive? But all the lazy, depressed, spaced-out pothead kids and their lazy, depressed, spaced-out pothead parents say it doesn't affect them, so it can't possibly affect them. After all, everyone knows that nothing gives you the ability to conduct an honest, thoughtful self-analysis like being on drugs. So just mellow out, doctor dudes.

OVERHEARD IN YOUTH MINISTRY

Student: My stepmom gave my stepbrother pot for his birthday because she said she knew it was all he wanted anyway.

Attachment and Going Back to (Volunteer) Work

With apologies for the length, here are my thoughts on attachment and schedules at this point in our adoption/parenting adventure. I tried to spice it up with some links for those of you who may, say, be considering Ethiopian adoption but be too shy to email me yet (ahem).

Because of various conversations and our post-placement review, I have been thinking a lot over the last week about attachment, attachment parenting, when to leave Anna in others’ care, and what that means for all the things I am/used to be involved in outside the house.

Attachment is not our warm-fuzzy feeling of being “bonded” to our child but our child’s trusting relationship to her parents. As one article puts it, attachment is “the quality of the relationship a child feels toward a particular person (parent, grandparent, caregiver, etc.).” Strong attachment is formed through building, over time, the child’s sense of security and comfort that their caregiver will respond to their needs—physical and emotional.

Children who are securely attached are more confident in learning and exploring, interact more positively with other kids, are more emotionally stable and able to manage feelings, and are more able to handle stress and help others handle stress. Children who do not have strong attachment, well, they are more likely to lack confidence, have difficultly with social interactions, express and manage feelings, and act out in unhealthy ways. The extreme is the dreaded Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD). Most people don’t know this name but it’s what they mean when they warn you that if you adopt, your child might be “messed up” and hate you as a teenager. I can actually see signs of abandonment/attachment issues in some of the teenagers we know--not adopted--and it's not pretty.

Helping Anna form strong attachment to us is absolutely the most important thing we can do for her and our family. It’s number one. This is why we’ve been careful to be Anna’s only true caregivers—the only ones to change her diaper, feed her a bottle, put her to sleep, comfort her when she cries. (Even my mother didn’t get to do these things when she visited, and kudos to her for not trying, because you know she was just dying to get her hands on that baby for so long.) It’s why we lean more toward “attachment parenting”—responding to baby’s cries, having her sleep near us, carrying her in a sling rather than always parking her in a stroller or seat. And it’s why we haven’t left her with anyone else, despite myriad babysitting offers.

Sure, kids usually easily come to trust their parents to take care of them. But for an adopted child, it’s not so simple. We are Anna’s fifth set of caregivers. In her first six months of life, four times she thought the person caring for her would always be there. Can we really expect her to be one hundred percent confident that we the fifth will be different? She is now 8 ½ months yet our relationship is only 2 months old. Emotionally, with us, she’s 2 months old, not 8 ½. Sometimes it seems like she’s been here a long time, but two months really isn’t very long. One guideline for attachment is to expect it to take as long as the child is old when they come to you. Anna was six months when we met, so plan to focus on attachment for at least six months.

This brings us to the present predicament of everything that revolves around the school year starting up and I, well, I’m not sure where I’m supposed to fit in. In the past I would run the PowerPoint at church and serve on a committee. We have a small group at our house and sometimes I make food. And most of all I’ve been sort of a (left-handed) right-hand-woman for Aaron in church youth group, I’ve given rides and hung out with kids, and I’ve helped plan and prepare for and lead Young Life Club.

• Category 1 is done. No more church worship stuff.
• Category 2 is fine for now. We meet at our house and Anna is fairly content to hang out with us.
• Category 3 . . . may have to go. Or be altered so as to be nearly unrecognizable. I’m not sure. I just know a lot of these activities aren’t conducive to hauling a baby along. (I also have to stay home and work sometimes, because man do I suck at getting work done during the day now.)

What about leaving her with someone? I think both of us realized last week in talking that we’re not ready—and/or we don’t think Anna is ready. Sure, she seems to love everyone and is getting to know some people she sees consistently. Maybe she’d be fine. Or maybe she’d seem fine but the hesitation to attach would be stirred. Or maybe she’d regress—remember the football game incident? And the week of not napping? She seemed to regress that week. I say this because when she first came home, she would scream bloody murder for her bottle. I mean zero to shaking with violent sobs in sixty seconds. After a few weeks it got better; putting a bib on her no longer meant you were trying to torture her but might actually mean you would indeed feed her soon. But that week after the overstimulation meltdown and frustrated mommy putting her in a new playpen and leaving her crying longer than ever—she went back to the violent sobs sometimes. It was like she was saying, “I don’t trust you anymore. You stopped being responsive to me so I’d better make my demands completely clear” (and really loud).

I don’t want to see that again. And certainly not continuing for long.

I'm sure plenty of people might think we're paranoid. That we need to be away from her (both at the same time). That we'll spoil her by responding too much. That because she's a baby she'll just naturally be fine. I find it ironic that it seems the same people who would warn about "messed-up adopted kids" (attachment disorders) would turn around and minimize efforts to prevent that. But I digress. The point is, it's too important not to err on the side of caution. With all she's been through already, she deserves our all in parenting, especially at this completely dependent stage.

Our solution for now is to bring her along when I can and sit some things out for now. She has warmed up to sporting events and had a rockin’ good (though exhausting) time at Wildhorse Canyon for Young Life leadership camp. She did okay at youth group as long as she could suck on a grape, so I will probably try to be there most weeks and maybe ease into letting someone else watch her in the nursery nearby after a while or something. But Young Life Club? At any given moment it might involve yelling, loud music, strobe lights, inflatable or food-based projectiles, and people setting a very bad example as to what foods/nonfoods should be eaten together (see: lettuce/live goldfish), all in one room with nowhere to escape to.

And so it was that as we headed to leadership camp to talk about how we will serve kids together, I harbored the knowledge that there is no “me” in “we” right now, at least when it comes to doing Club. I’m still helping with planning and still can do “contact work” which in theory is the most important part of Young Life . . . but it’s strange to think I won’t be at Club with the kids and leaders.

I’ll feel a little left out two Mondays from now, I think, but I also think it’s the right thing for right now. You can’t all do all of the stuff all of the time, and our little girl needs me more than those bigger girls and guys right now. I have to trust our team, and I have to trust our family, and I have to trust our God.