 |
|---|
|
|---|
______________ ______________
|
Chosen
__________________________________________ God's Answer “What do girls do who haven’t any mothers
So, to answer the question above from the author of “Little Women,” this girl had a very difficult time without anybody there to help me through my troubles. I was actually jealous of my friends who had their moms, and couldn’t figure out why they complained so much about them! Several years later, after being a mom for 16 years, my oldest daughter became ill with lupus. I remember asking God “why?” Why did TP have to go through all of this physical and emotional pain? Why did He choose me, out of all of the thousands of adoptive moms out there who could have become TP’s mom, to be THE one? He answered me in a way which has humbled me ever since. He told me that it was because I had what TP needed the most in a mom—that I was chosen especially for TP because I would be able to help her through that particular storm in her life, and help to make her stronger physically, emotionally, and spiritually. A few months ago, when my youngest daughter faced turbulent times, I went to the Lord again and asked him why DQ enourmous crosses to bear, and what I could do to help carry the weight on her shoulders Again He replied that all I could do for DQ is to just be the mom that she needs me to be—loving, kind, supportive—and that He’d be right there next to me, giving me the strength to get through the challenges I was facing with all of DQ’s problems. And now, I am going through what is probably the most difficult trial of all with my oldest daughter refusing to accept my help, my love, my guidance, and turning her back on all that we hold dear in our life—our faith, our values, our family. What hurts so much is that I would have given anything in the world to have had a mom at her age, and now she is so ungrateful for anything and everything I have ever done for her. She is rebelling, she is angry, she deliberately tries to hurt me with her words and actions. Yet, through it all, I am reminded that I am still HERE to help her with her troubles, if she so chooses. The door is always open for her return. I am reminded of God’s answer that He chose me to be her mom—and that my job isn’t finished yet by any means. This is just another one of the storms of her life which I am supposed to help her through. But I feel so helpless this time around. I am going through this persecution of sorts because she is still so angry about her illness and how it affected her in her most vulnerable years, she is still so afraid to be alone that she’ll do anything to hang on to things and people which lead her astray, and even though she is healed physically she hasn’t healed emotionally from her illness. And she is taking all of this out on me. I have to stand here with broad shoulders and take it all in, just as Christ did when He was being persecuted, and then I have to forgive. And forgive. And forgive again. And always, love her and be there, just in case she needs me. So, on this Mother’s Day, I am thinking of my mom, whom I miss so much. I certainly could use some of her motherly loving and comforting and touch. I'm watching my younger girl slowly heal from a ton of pain and blossom into a beautiful young woman. And with pain and anguish in my heart, I'm waiting with bated breath for my Prodigal daughter’s return. Such a myriad of emotions, which I am sure that each mother has gone through at some point in her life, but I happen to be going through all of them at once! On this Mother’s Day, all I can say is be grateful for your children when they are young and sweet. Be grateful for your children when they are healthy or ill. Be grateful for your children when they are good and virtuous, or when they have taken the wrong path. Our jobs as mothers are to love and let go—and be there when they return. Eventually, I'm certain, that each of my girls will come to realize why God chose me to be their mom. And maybe they will turn out to be a “mean” mom, just like me. But what I’d really like to know is if, in 30 or 40 years from now, they'll miss me as much as I miss my mom. The circle of life is mysterious. And my legacy, I hope, will be one of simply being “my kids’ mom”. “Her children arise up, and call her blessed”. ~ Proverbs 31:28 I want to especially thank my kids’ birth moms. May you have a blessed day, and know that you are in our prayers everyday. __________________________________________ Springtime Promise
As I am writing this column about springtime, a blizzard is swirling, hurling snow and wind against my warm and snug house. Spring seems like such a long way off. But its promises beckon me to contemplate the next season--the promise of new birth, of an awakening of the earth from the dead of winter into the aliveness of spring, of shaking away the dirt and mustiness of my life and opening up to God’s refreshing light and His promise of a new life with Him. Spring offers us the chance to start anew, to let go of the past, and to plant seeds for the future. As a mother, I have had to “plant seeds” within my daughters as they have grown through many seasons--from sweet little babies, to temperamental toddlers, to curious kids, and to turbulent (yet terrific!) teenagers. Some of these seeds were tossed to the side, others have already blossomed, and many are still taking root. This natural progression of growing through seasons can be painful, at times, but exciting to watch and challenging to manage. I am reminded of a verse from Psalms 126:5, “Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy”. There have been many tears shed as I have tried to sow the seeds of wisdom and discipline, but now I can see where those tears were well worth the pain because my daughters are becoming beautiful Christian women who bring joy to those whom they touch. They have learned that suffering consequences--while not “fun”--has helped to build their character and shape their values. “Sow for yourself righteousness, reap the fruit of unfailing love, and break up your unplowed ground; for it is time to seek the Lord.” - Hosea 10:12 My daughters are in the spring of their lives, where their whole lives lie ahead of them, full of promise. It is their time to begin sowing their own seeds, and to seek the Lord in their lives every day. “For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of the birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; the fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vine with the tender grape, give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away”. So, arise, my loves, my fair ones, and follow God’s springtime promise of everlasting life by following his commandments and allowing those seeds of love and faith to blossom in your hearts and souls. I shall watch over you and pray for you and love you for now and forever, and delight in watching you grow strong in God’s graces. ©2008, Valerie Wolff __________________________________________ God's Little Girls Twenty years ago, we were in the process of waiting for our first child to be born. We knew it was going to be a girl, and we knew exactly what her name was going to be. The lawyer cautioned us about not preparing a room for her, because he said he had seen where adoptions fell through, and thus if that happened to us, a completed room would only be a painful reminder of not having a child. But, my husband and I had such peace about the process On the first day of spring that year, our daughter was born. The name she was given was her great grandmother’s name, and to this day, it is a name that she wears with pride. She has grown in beauty and grace, knowing God’s love, knowing her birth mother’s love, and knowing our love and our families’ love. This love has helped her through many crises – physical and emotional and spiritual – and has brought her to her childhood’s end and womanhood’s beginning. Our second girl was born almost three years later towards the end of winter, and when we picked her up from her foster home, there was a blizzard outside. When our first daughter laid eyes on the baby, she walked over to her little sister, patted her on the head and said “I want her, let’s take her home”. And thus began their sisterly relationship, based on the oldest being very overprotective, and the youngest being fiercely independent – hence, creating a “loving” atmosphere of constant bickering and yet extreme loyalty towards each other. This daughter, too, has known the love of God, her birth mother, her family and her extended family – and she has grown up with the knowledge that love is not based on the color of a person’s skin. During her childhood, she faced many obstacles, and as her childhood is drawing to a close, she has grown stronger knowing that she is a child of God, adopted twice. I’ve often been asked how I can love another woman's child as if she was my very own. That question often puzzles me, because love is love, regardless of whose blood is flowing in a person’s veins. The minute I saw each of my girls – even before that time – I loved them with a strong and protective and fierce love. As an adoptive mom, I know that I have been given a selfless gift from another woman – her own flesh and blood. I honor that gift each and every day by keeping her in my prayers, and by raising her daughter with the same motherly love she has and in a way which would make her proud of her daughter. When my daughters go to meet their birth moms someday, I want these special women to know that their daughters were loved as if my daughters were “my very own”. I’m standing now at the end of their childhood, and I’m learning how to let go. When they were little, I vowed I would never let go of them, but now I know how unrealistic that vow was because it was based on fear and not on love. I must let them go, so that they can embrace their lives as their own and touch other people’s lives with God’s love inside their hearts. ©2008, Valerie Wolff __________________________________________ My Beginning of Always
A soft whisper speaking to my soul. A gentle tug on my heart. A beckoning to return to Him, to seek His truth and wisdom and guidance in all ways. A quiet reminder to turn all things over to Him--to let go and let God. The past few years, my faith has been tested on many levels. There were times I wavered, or was overcome with anxiety and fear and doubt, or was consumed with exhaustion and anger, or isolated myself from others, because I didn’t have the energy to reciprocate or give anything back to the relationship. But lately, I have noticed that God is speaking to me in ways which are letting me know it is time to renew myself and allow Him to touch that part of my soul which is so afraid and angry. It is time for me to overcome this huge obstacle of exhaustion and to start anew in my faith journey with Him by my side. It is time to replace the suffering with hope that He will be here with me, every step of the way, as I make some necessary changes in my life. As it says in Romans, 5:3-4, “suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." NIV I must admit that I am tired of all the trials and tribulations. I must admit I haven’t prayed as faithfully as I should have through it all. I must admit I didn’t sit still and just try to listen to what God had to say to me. I usually just plowed ahead and did what I thought was the right thing to do, because I needed to feel in control of my situation that was so much out of my control. My husband losing his job and as a result almost all of our financial resources, my daughter developing lupus and almost losing her life, my youngest being so psychologically scarred from being the victim of racial prejudice, and my physical and emotional turmoil--all of these situations I had absolutely no control over. I am now to the point, though, where I realize that I can’t hang on to these events anymore and use them as excuses for not being able to open myself back up again to God’s loving embrace. He wants what is best for me, and what is best for me, is to give up being focused on “poor me”. He wants me to stop being so selfish and to challenge myself to reach out to others to help them through similar situations rather than isolate myself. He wants me to find joy and hope in my life again rather than to face each day with a dreaded sense of resignation. My New Year resolution is that I will vow to look at each and every new day as my beginning of always. “The beginning of wisdom is silence. The second step is listening”. (Author unknown). What I resolve to do is begin each day with a prayer to ask God what His will is for my day. I will end the prayer with a period of silence so that I can then truly LISTEN to what it is that God has in his plans for me. For truly, if each day is my beginning of always, then I must do His will so that my “always” will be spent with Him in eternity. Carl Brand once said “Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending”. I can’t change the past decisions and actions I have made, which may have hurt God or people whom I love or even strangers I’ve never known. But what I can do, is live with the realization that each decision and each action I do make have the power to affect the ending of my story. I can choose to live with bitterness and anger, or I can choose to live with gratitude and compassion. I can choose to live in isolation, or I can choose to reach out and give of myself. I can choose to be exhausted, or I can choose to ask God for strength and courage to face each day with enthusiasm and joy. I want my “ending” to reflect God’s glory in my life, and so I begin this new year with hope that I can serve God in all ways and to find His purpose for my life. “Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing”. James 1:2-4 I wish you and yours a blessed New Year. Thank you for blessing my life with your support and love. ©2008, Valerie Wolff __________________________________________ A Christmas Legacy
I remember that Christmas morning so vividly. My mother insisted that I get up a little early and get dressed in my little white shirt with the Peter Pan collar, the red pleated skirt, my black tights and patent leather shoes. She carefully combed my short hair and parted it on the side, holding the wisps that wanted to fly free with a little red velvet bow, which was attached to a bobby pin. I was very impatient with this whole process, because, of course, I wanted to just open up the presents which I knew were waiting in the parlor. I couldn’t figure out why Mom was insisting that I get dressed up because normally we wore our pajamas when opening up the gifts, but I didn’t question her because I knew if I did then I’d get one of her “looks”. Finally, it was time for the whole family--all 8 of us--to crowd into the small parlor to open our gifts. I was 8-years-old, still believed in Santa, and I wanted to see what magical kind of gift he was going to give to me. We rushed into the parlor, where the boys found their usual assortment of guns, ice skates, and basketballs; my sister was thrilled with her jewelry and makeup, but I couldn’t find a thing. My heart sank as I peered under the tree, behind the couch, and in between the piano and the bookcase, and then finally, I saw her. There she was--a beautiful Chatty Cathy doll, which had on exactly the same outfit which I had on, down to the red bow in her hair. She had brown hair and eyes, and little freckles sprinkled over nose--just like me! Next to her was an opened suitcase, where inside were two more handmade outfits and a winter coat, which were just like ones I owned, plus several more handmade outfits and shoes and socks. I was so mesmerized and overwhelmed, that I didn’t know what to say. I glanced at my mom, and I couldn’t figure out why she had tears in her eyes (although, now that I am a mom myself now, I totally understand). I spent hours that day with my Chatty Cathy doll, who would say things like “I love you,” “Where are we going,” “I hurt myself,” “I’m sleepy,” “Tell me a story,” “Let’s change my dress,” “Let’s play house,” “I’m hungry,” “Will you play with me,” and “Please carry me.” My mother gave me a special gift that year in two ways. It wasn’t until a year later that I found out that Santa Claus was a magical fairy tale, and that it was my mother who had chosen that particular doll to give to me. I also learned that she had those dresses hand made by a friend so that my little “baby” and I could have matching clothes --and those clothes were incredibly special to me. Mom had gone out of her way to make this gift extra-special and individualized for me. The other way this gift was special was in all of the magical hours I spent with this doll wherein I learned how to become a mom myself. I learned how to attend to Cathy’s every need, how to nurture her, and how to just love her unconditionally. When she “talked” to me after I had pulled the string under her hair, I could hear the little voice of my “baby,” and I took what she had to say to me very seriously. I learned how to put my baby’s needs before my own. I don’t think mom ever realized the impact that this gift had on me. Looking back now, I realize that the simple gift of a little doll which looked like me, dressed like me, and talked like me brought me hours of enjoyment and love and practice for the “real thing”. The gift she gave me that year served me well as I became a mom years later. It was a true gift that kept on giving, because it was a gift of love, which in turn taught love, which in turn internalized that love to be given to my own daughters at a later time. It was part of the true gift my mom gave to me on a daily basis--the legacy of her unconditional love for me, her daughter. I wish all of you a blessed Christmas. May you pass on the legacy of love to your children, just as God has passed on His love to us through the gift of his only Son, Jesus. “Do everything in love” ~ 1 Corinthians 16:14 (NIV) ©2007, Valerie Wolff __________________________________________ No Parents are Perfect
"My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing." James 1:2-4 It was an unlikely match. She was the youngest of a large, Roman Catholic family, raised in Detroit. She had a beautiful smile and two goals in life--to marry a good provider and to have a large family of her own. He was the middle son of a non-church going family, raised in Canada who moved to Detroit as a young man to find a good job. He had two goals in life--to woo as many young women as he could, and to have a good time. They met and fell in love, but she wouldn’t marry him unless he became a Catholic. So, already she was trying to “tame” her man, and because he loved her, he agreed to the conversion. It wasn’t that he felt any great calling to become a Catholic, nor did he even have a great faith in God, he just wanted to do what it would take to marry the woman of his dreams. They moved up to the northern part of the lower Michigan peninsula right after their first son was born. She had to take care of her elderly mother who suffered from dementia, and who lived all alone in a home built by an uncle. The mother allowed the little family to live there rent free, in exchange for taking care of her. The years passed, and eventually the mother died, and five more children were born of this young woman and her husband. Her husband became a firefighter and a brick mason, and she was a full-time mom to her four boys and two girls until the youngest went to school in first grade. There was a sadness in the woman which was tangible. She loved her family, but was unhappy because her husband would drink and flirt with other pretty girls, and wouldn’t come home when he was supposed to. There were money problems because of the drinking, and there were plenty of arguments overheard by the children. A couple of the older boys got in trouble quite frequently, so much so that one of them was sent off to the Navy and another one was sent to a cooking school in Boston. As the years wore on, the sadness on her face was etched permanently on the wrinkles around her mouth and on her forehead, and the anger in his eyes was only mellowed when he had been drinking. The tension was thickest on holidays and on Sundays, when he would refuse to go to church. As a result, some of the children decided not to go to church, too--which upset her even more. She developed breast cancer when she turned 55, and died 10 months later after months of grueling radiation treatments. He drowned his sorrows even further into his alcohol. The family was scattered now, except for the three youngest (22, 17, and 14 at the time) who still lived in the family home. He refused to discuss her illness with the children when she was still alive, and his silence was even more deafening after her death. He loved her deeply, but never knew how to tell her or show her or prove his love to her. She, in turn, left a note for him to read after her death, which simply read, “I am sorry I am not going to be around to help you raise the family we created. I have always loved you, but just didn’t know how to love you”. He lived for twenty years after her death, a bitter man who was angry with God for taking away from him the only woman he truly loved. The only times he went to church were for baptisms, weddings, and funerals. Eventually, he became ill and decrepit due to all of his drinking, and he ended up in a nursing home, which he called “hell on earth”. Several times, he was close to death, and his children were called to his room to be with him as he struggled to live. He was dying, so very close to death, and his children were watching over him. The doctors didn’t give them much hope for his survival because he was in congestive heart failure, so they decided to give him some Valium to make him more comfortable. Then, a miracle happened. Immediately, his uncontrollable motions and nonsensical talking ceased, a deep peace fell over him and he fell asleep. The next morning, he woke up, and he began to talk to his youngest about his experience of the day before. He said he was walking towards a white light, and he was afraid because he wanted to stay here on earth. But, he was being drawn into the light by a gentle and loving force, and it was there that he saw his wife, his brother, and several friends who were waiting for him. He embraced his wife, and she said that she loved him but that it wasn’t time for him to come home quite yet because he still had some work left to do on earth. She said she would wait for him to come home, as she always did when she was alive. She let his arm go, and he found himself floating away, back to his place here on earth. His youngest felt chills going up and down her spine, for she knew her father had never heard or read about a near-death experience before, yet that is exactly what had happened to him. He asked to speak to a priest to receive the sacraments of reconciliation and communion, for the first time in decades. His wife’s wish was finally being granted--he was “coming home” to his faith, before he eventually came home to be with His Lord (and with her) a few years later. I am the youngest child of this couple. Their legacy lives on in me and my siblings. I learned a lot from being their daughter--by being loved fiercely by them, by watching them inflict pain on each other, by observing their struggles, by knowing that they would remain committed to their marriage no matter how difficult it was to stay together, by seeing my mother pray for the miracle of her husband to find God, by knowing that they loved each other but that they just didn’t know how to show that love, and by watching my father waste precious moments and years of his life by drinking. I learned how weaknesses can be overcome, how to bear pain without complaint, how important it is to savor the good times and shore them up to help when the bad times come along, and how to believe that miracles are possible even in the midst of such despair. I learned the power of God’s graces, mercy, forgiveness, and love by living in my “dysfunctional” family--and I can honestly say, that I am at the point in my life where I appreciate all of the experiences--good and bad--which I had when I was growing up, because it made me the person I am today. Their love story wasn’t a typical one, but it was a memorable one, to be sure. I remember seeing my mom pray for my dad every day of my life. Her prayers were finally answered many years after her death, but they were answered nonetheless. She loved him enough to wait patiently while he found his way back to God, and her perseverance and prayers paid off in the end. They are now together in heaven, waiting for me to join them some day. And there, our family will be complete and whole and at peace with our Savior. While I have so much more to do here on earth, I do look forward to that day when I join them and the rest of my siblings in one big homecoming! So, to my folks – I love you and I miss you. Thank you for loving each other enough to give me life. Thank you for doing the best you could do in raising me. And I do thank God everyday for you. ©2007, Valerie Wolff __________________________________________
|
______________
 ______________
|
CWO Cover
Bonnie 
I lost my mother when I was at the very vulnerable age of 14. Throughout the rest of my tumultuous and painful teenage years and on into young adulthood, I had to find my own way through the maze without a mother’s tender touch, or her wisdom, or her love, or even her nagging and preaching. I was a lost and sad little soul for so long. 
of adopting this child, and we knew in our hearts that she would be coming home with us to stay. The love we had for her already was amazing, and we prayed for her safe delivery and her mother’s physical and emotional health throughout the months ahead. 
