Re-entry: Contemplating Richness

We narrowly escaped our rabid apartment manager and left Uganda two weeks ago today.  This is our eleventh day at home.  So far, we have had four days to look around us, three days of normal routine, and this is the fifth day of snow-and-ice storm.  The school days calmed down a little bit, as the more intense kids had somewhere to go and something to think about (and were just plain out of the house for a while!), but other than that, most of that has been pure chaos, all the time.  Everyone has more big feelings than they know how to deal with, apparently!  But around yesterday, I started seeing a return to their normal rhythm and interaction with each other.  And somewhere around then, by the time the kids were all in bed, Mark and I had enough energy to actually talk and connect and enjoy being together.  Although as other parents will recognize, we mostly talked about our kids!

Mark said that he had worried about how the girls would fit into our lives here, but it hadn't been a problem, and they already seemed to belong.  I was glad to hear that, because we have all had a long time to get used to each other, but Mark has had a long time of quiet and potential concentration.  Life with the monkey troupe is pretty much exactly the opposite of that, so I am glad that it feels like a positive change to him.



He also said that our family is so much richer.

I agree so deeply.  I have spent so much of my time and energy and emotion on all the day-to-day details in the last months, from extraordinary things like trying to figure out how to get passports and deal with strange beaurocracy, to ordinary small-child life like managing tooth brushing and mopping up endless spills of water.  That's what my thought train has been about, and that's what I've been writing about, but under it all is a feeling about us all, about who "we" are now.  It's hard to find the time and words to describe what our family, the family-ness of it, is now.  "Rich" is exactly the right word.

All three children have such vivid personalities, and they are all so different from each other.  Our family is rich in Hibiscus's passion and energy, Emerson's planning and ideas, and Buttercup's empathy and concentration.

Our home is so full of feelings, as the little children grapple with their emotions.  Sometimes this means we are guiding through some difficult times, and the light in their little faces and bodies as we help them come through the difficult times shines more brightly than the sun after an ice storm. Other times, the intensity of their excitement ricochets off the walls, and travels through our family like the warmth of fire.  Our family is rich is joy and sorrow, pain and success, longing and fulfillment.

Children naturally soak up everything they can figure out and learn.  Three different children of three different ages and three different sets of curiosities are fascinating to watch through the day. Sometimes they approach life in different ways, and Emerson drives cars up and down ramps, while Hibiscus snuggles with dolls, and Buttercup moves play kitchen items back and forth.  Other times they tackle the same project with different goals and energy, like watching the different ways they approached making class Valentines.  They all love to read books, and we answer questions or hear the stories that resonate in their own hearts and minds, or overhear the lessons they explain to each other over the pages of the book in another room.  The light in a pair of eyes when the child figures out something new or feels successful lights up the house like little suns playing hide-and-seek.  Our family is rich in curiosity, exploration, and new ideas.

Three young minds are always coming to interesting conclusions and unexpected correlations.  I just heard Emerson describing a lego picture as "that's where Satan piles up the dead bodies" -- in a children's book.  Last night Hibiscus prayed for her teachers that "dear Lord forgive all their sins, for they know not what they do," which is a creative juxtaposition of prayers.  At dinner, Buttercup randomly popped out that she was thankful for the "miracle" of flying in the sky that got her to America and Daddy, which was not what we expected out of her lisping little mouth.  Getting to hear three sets of untraditional ideas every day keeps our minds more fresh than endless pots of green tea.  Our family is rich in laughter and thinking of things in new ways.

And other kinds of laughter as well!  Three children bring out the joy and silliness in each other.  They can get re-ignite each other over and over with any emotion, and sometimes they end up collapsing on the floor in mutual, joyful hysteria.  Our family is rich in children's laughter.

Of course, they also ignite each other's frustration, and follow each other into sadness, worry, or fear.  The inner and emotional life of children is deep and powerful, just like it is for all humans.  But we are together, and we can help each other wrestle with the "yucky" parts.  We parents cannot solve all their problems, but it is always a miracle when our loving arms can provide some solace and shelter.  Our family is rich in healing.

Mathematically, three children provide at least seven different relationships, of being alone or together in different combinations, and each combination brings out different facets of each child.  I never, ever tire of watching those relationships.  I never tire of observing the different ideas they come up with in play, or the way they inspire each other to creativity.  I never tire of seeing the gentleness and protective nature of my children flare up to help the younger ones, or the inspiration for trying harder to keep up with the older ones.  Even when they disagree or fight, they are gradually learning to solve their own problems and accept other people's opinions and needs, and they are finding every day that the love for each other is much deeper than their frustration -- or as they would put it themselves, that their siblings are "really good play-ers."  I never tire of watching their interactions grow and change.  Our family is rich in friendships, and ever-growing relationships.

And the love.  I can't even begin to describe the love.  I tell Emerson that love is like the Nile river pouring out of Lake Victoria, unimaginably deep and wide and infinite.  And that's just the love pouring through one person, so now our family is five deep rivers of love, each going five different ways.  Every day is special as each relationship deepens or is rediscovered with their Daddy, and his special kind of love and laughter brings out new facets of their personalities, and new kinds of love in their hearts.  Meanwhile, our love expressed as snuggles puts them to sleep, helps them out of tears, gives them strength to go to school, makes them feel beautiful, rewards them for hard work, soothes the owies, and teaches them that they love books.  The feelings behind those snuggles are the fuel that powers our days, and gives each child the strength to grow.  Buttercup's face lights up when I reach for her, as she puts her arms around my neck and says "here is my mama!"  Emerson's project isn't complete until he brings it to me to admire, and I give words to his confidence.  Hibiscus quietly glows from inside as she leans into my body and absorbs praise and confidence from my words of thanks.  Just contemplating the depth and power of each of my children's love for me brings tears to my eyes, and all the thinking in the world can hardly begin to contemplate my love for these three little beautiful souls in my care.


Our family is so rich in love.  We are so rich.