Category: Tapestry

This originally appeared on tapestryministry.org February 26, 2013.

At the beginning of the month, my oldest daughter asked me to tell her the story of her adoption. When I got to the end, she said:

“Don’t tell anyone my adoption name. You can call me that at home but I don’t want anyone to know that name.”

I could try to infer why she’s focusing on her name, but all I need to do is honor her words. She would like her “adoption name” to be kept private. Her need to keep things private is not new to us; she is often telling us stories and then exhorting us to not tell anyone.

My daughter’s comment is a good reminder for me to honor her need for privacy  — even if she is only four. Tapestry posted three articles about privacy and over-sharing recently, so I guess the subject has been on my mind. If you didn’t get a chance to read them, I recommend you take some time and dig in: Before You Share, Make Sure It’s Yours to Share; Protecting What is Sacred; Oh No, I’ve Said Too Much.

If you have already read the articles, I hope you are taking notes on the parts of your child’s story that need to be kept private, whether your child verbalizes that or not.  If you’ve made mistakes in this area, or if you’re just struggling to make sense of what to share, don’t worry — you’re not alone! Most of us are parents to children with circumstances and stories that are different from our own, so guarding their stories is a skill we have to develop intentionally as we go.

Thankfully, my daughter was very specific about one detail she wanted kept private, so I got one right this time.

This post orginally appeared on tapestryministry.org.

I still think about things Carissa Woodwyk said during the Tapestry Women’s Event in January. She brought up the difference between describing and defining. Carissa encouraged us to be careful in how we describe our children because those words can come to define them. She said, “When you keep hearing the same things over and over, whether good or bad, you come to believe it.”

As I thought about that, I thought about Carissa first and then my daughter. Carissa came to the event as an adopted person, but that’s not all she is. She and I talked about decorating and children’s clothes and the age-old “pop” vs. “Coke” debate. But Carissa is more than her interests. I don’t know all that she is. I do know that being an adopted person is a significant piece—but only a piece—of her story.

Then I thought about my daughter and how I would describe her to someone. My daughter is beautiful, and her face lights up when she smiles. She is a girlie girl, meaning she loves dresses, skirts, dreaming about weddings, princesses, princes, and fairies. She loves pink and purple and everything that sparkles. She loves sprinkles on her pancakes and sour candy (not chocolate) and drawing and dancing and gymnastics. She is who she is, and we love who she is. But even all her interests and passions are not all that’s to her. There’s more.

There will always be more. Most of what we see on the outside is just a way to describe each other, while what defines us takes more time to see.

My oldest daughter is an adopted person, but that doesn’t need to be part of her introduction like she’s at an Adopted Person’s Anonymous meeting, or even like it’s part of her name. Being an adopted person is a piece of her story, but so is being a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a granddaughter and a friend. Our oldest daughter became a part of our family through adoption, and we will treasure that and honor that part of her story. But her story is still going and we hope to guide her to believe and define herself as loved, cherished, appreciated … and I could go on.

Carissa helped me see that I need to be more mindful of the words I’m saying and how I’m saying them. I mean, maybe I’m creating the popstar diva that I live with (hopefully not), but maybe I can learn to describe my diva as a creative, enthusiastic lover of dance and music. I can describe her as a kind and thoughtful big sister.

As you go about your week, listen to what you are saying about your children and to your children. Would you be comfortable with your children turning your descriptions into definitions? The truth is we can all grow in this area as we learn to see our children for who they were made to be, and in turn, teach them to see themselves that way too.

A couple weeks ago Tapestry Adoption & Foster Care Ministry did a series of posts on oversharing. Take the time to read them and to pause and think about what you share, how you share, and who you share it with.

Before You Share, Make Sure It’s Yours to Share by Michael Monroe

Protecting What is Sacred by Melanie Chung-Sherman

Oh No, I’ve Said Too Much by Amy Monroe

 

This post originally appeared on tapestryministry.org. 

I took some notes while listening to Amy Monroe interview Carissa Woodwyk at the Tapestry Women’s Event a couple weeks ago, and I keep coming back to two quotes from Carissa.

As Carissa reflected on her childhood she said, “I promised that no one and nothing is going to make me feel afraid again because if I feel afraid that might come true.”

Later she said, “I wish my parents had modeled how to deal with anger, disappointment, forgiveness and mercy.”

Her words both made me feel compassion for my daughter and convicted about the role I play in how she learns to process her emotions.

I felt compassion for the child who is scared to go to bed, scared of the monsters, scared to be alone. I could see how though I saw no logical, tangible reason for being scared, my child could not want to “feel afraid again because if [she] feels afraid that might come true.” So what do you? Keep convincing her that she’s safe and telling her not to be scared – doesn’t work. We have to support her and model how to deal with feeling afraid.

One day she told me something puzzling. After much prompting she finally said, “I had a nightmare and a big blue hairy monster told me that you don’t love me anymore.” First, a big blue hairy monster is scary, second, someone telling you that your parents don’t love you anymore is scary, too. It doesn’t make sense to me; it was a dream; it wasn’t real. But it’s what she’s feeling and she needs my help and she told me. I want her to keep telling me, talking to me.

And then Carissa’s second quote, her desire for her parents to have modeled how to handle feelings, leads to some self-reflection. Anger, disappointment, forgiveness, mercy -those are tough things to model. (I do know that my girls tolerance of each other depends on me figuring out how best to teach and model mercy.) While I work on recognizing my own feelings, so I can teach my children how to recognize and process their own, I have found some books by Cornelia Maude Spelman that we are already using in our home:

When I Feel Scared

When I Feel Jealous

When I Feel Angry

When I Feel Sad

When I Miss You

When I Care About Others

When I Feel Good About Myself

I found some of these titles at my local library, and by the time we made it home from the library, we already had the perfect opportunity to read When I Feel Jealous. It will always blow my mind that when a little bear talks to the momma bear about her feelings that makes more sense than when I try to get my own daughter to talk about her feelings. But progress is progress, I will take it as we continue to navigate all our feelings.