13

The first thing Noah asked me when we got the restaurant for his birthday lunch today was, "Mom do you know what time I was born?" My heart sank because I wish I could answer that question but unfortunately I can't, and probably never will. All I know is he was born December, 16th, 2004 to a young girl and her much older boyfriend, in a hospital just over the Texas/Mexico border.

Every year on my own birthday, my parents tell me the story of the day I was born. They talk about all the friends and family who came to the hospital to greet and hold me and how they clapped as I was presented to them. It warms my heart thinking about how cherished and loved I was when I entered the world, apart of a huge family that loved me the minute they saw me, and even before. That's the way it should be for all children, but sadly that is not the case. I can't speak for my son's experience because I wasn't there. But knowing the circumstances surrounding his first family, I don't imagine it was a very joyous occasion. Was he loved? Possibly, yet I can't be certain. But cherished, he was not. The three years with his birth family that followed were marred with abuse, neglect, and abandonment. Then when he was in foster care he endured six more years of empty promises, instability, and more maltreatment.  So the words written on my sons heart from the very beginning were, "We don't love you, we won't keep you safe, you don't exist, and you're just another file on a caseworkers desk." Certainly not what any child deserves.

Fast forward to October 19th, 2013. I saw two little boys waiting for a balloon artist to make them swords at an adoption match event. I asked their names and they told me. Noah looked at me with the sweetest bashful smile and brown eyes with long eyelashes, then looked away, cheeks red with embarrassment. My heart leapt!! THESE ARE MY BABIES! I FINALLY FOUND THEM! It took me a year and a half of searching and preparing for them and here they were before me. I knew it instantly. Bob and I knew it before we even got out of bed that morning, something special was in the air.

June 2nd, 2014 at around 10am, we signed placement paperwork to officially have them come live in our home. November 18th, 2014 at approximately 10am, we finalized our adoption with the boys over the phone with a South Texas judge. And it has been one heck of a ride since! Noah in particular has been especially tough. It's hard to erase what shouldn't and rewrite what should have been on his heart in the first place. It's like erasing pencil; the visible marks are gone, but there's still outlines, smudges and residue on the page from the hurt and pain that only Jesus can wash. So we have no choice but to turn the page and start new with him; creating new memories and new words. I haven't been the mom I thought I would be, and that has been a bittersweet awakening. Unfortunately the love I knew and grew up with wasn't and still isn't enough for Noah, it's like a whole different language to him. He has required me to grow in a strength I never knew existed. To trust that God could make me into the mom Noah needed, instead of the fairytale mom I had in my head.  The last 3.5 years since he came to be our son have been up and down but I can tell you that watching him go from sad, tortured, and belonging to no one, to being able to smile and enjoy what it means to be a Biffel has been the single most amazing thing I've ever been apart of. No, we are not perfect parents but this boy, this now 13yo boy is loved, cherished, wanted, and is above all, safe! He is growing up into the healed man God ordained him to be as he is exchanging his ashes for beauty every day. He is not a mistake, he is a BLESSING to us and I can't wait to see the man he grows up to be.

Happy 13th Birthday, Noah. I may not know the time you were born, but I know when I first saw you, when you came to live with me, and the time when you officially became my son. I love you with all of my heart and will always be here for you.

~Hannah

Her

I wish she could see them the way I see them. How precious they are, how they didn't deserve to be left. How they didn't deserve to go through everything she let them go through because of her laziness and unwillingness to provide safety. Their pain is now my frustrating pain. Picking up where she left off many years before I came along has been the single most difficult thing I've ever done. I hate that because of her actions, my son has sadness deep inside that festered into a palpable anger because he didn't feel safe enough to express his sorrow to strangers while in foster care. I hate that Asher says he still just wants to be a baby because he had that stage of his life stripped away too soon. He learned to walk with a foster mom. He lost his first tooth at our house within six months of being here with us. Noah's socially awkward and lacks communication skills because he was grieving too hard during the stage of his childhood when you learn those things. It's an outrage! It should not have happened this way! I love the saving grace of adoption, but the fact of the matter is, children should never have to go through that magnitude of pain in the first place! I realize it's a fact of life that things happen and kids end up in bad situations, so I'm grateful that we are the people we are, because it could be much worse. But I'm still angered and saddened by it. It angers me to endure Asher breaking/destroying things because he wants to see if we'll finally get upset enough to abandon him like she did. It cuts me like a knife every time Noah ridiculously bully's his brother and pumps himself up/talks about how amazing he is all the time to scratch that itch inside that constantly screams he's simply not good enough as he is. No matter how much we tell them we're not going anywhere, that adoption is forever, they still believe in the depths of their soul that if their own birth parents hurt and left them, we will too, someday. It's a never ending battle, every single day to prove ourselves. Going to a new restaurant shouldn't be that big of a deal, but it is when you've been moved so many times, the words "lets go somewhere different, tonight" is an instant trigger. Fidgety fingers, body movements, disrespect all the way there. Then the ride home is more drama because they're exhausted from being at a new place. There's more but there's not enough time, nor space, to go through it all here. The truth is, they're amazing boys. Deep inside each of them is a precious little being that is has been pushed down and protected by the hurts, anxiety, and frustration of being let down over and over and over again. Sometimes their preciousness come out to play, and it lights our world up when they do. Asher is a giver, a sharer, a child that loves to connect to others. His laughter is infectious. He's funny, incredibly handsome, loves action, and is forever playful. Noah is naturally quiet, careful, and loves to learn everything there is to know about whatever subject he is interested in. He has a passion for animals, and loves spending time with them. But for someone who's so important to them, she doesn't have a clue who they even are, and the sad thing is, she wouldn't even know them if she walked past them on the street. It shouldn't be that way! It should never have come to this! But I gladly stepped up and I will continue to forge on through the brokenness for as long as God allows me to. She may have given them life, but I am and will always be their mother.

Making the grade

Well I checked Noah's first set of grades for the beginning of the year. I was not happy about what he was coming up with in math and writing and the fact that he chose not to bring home his first progress report a while back because he was failing miserably at that time and knew we would not be happy. I considered grounding him for that and also holding him to getting it together in both of those classes to get ungrounded, but then I looked at the bigger picture and decided to change directions. In the grand scheme of things, he was doing pretty dang good in all his other classes. He even had two attached comments in his digital record by teachers saying, "he's a joy to have in class," and is "an overall good student." So instead, I sat him down and we had a long serious conversation about personal responsibility, and juggling athletics and his grades in order to play. We also discussed asking for help, turning in work completed and on time, and choosing not to horse around in class. I used some strong words to get my point across, so that he knew I was serious. Naturally, he wasn't very pleased and tried to give excuses, but he ultimately knew deep down that he had some work to do and was listening. So once I was done giving my lecture, I made a point to end the conversation with reading off all of the comments from his teachers and how I thought his other grades were awesome. I also mentioned that aside from our relationship struggles, I was so proud of how he was conducting himself at school, over all, and how far he has come despite his history. Would you believe that he smiled and started crying happy tears?! Yes! He was overjoyed to hear that and it did something to his spirit to know that we noticed his progress. It also touched me to see that he cared so much, especially when he tries so hard to act tough and unaffected by literally everything. Yeah I'm hard on my kids, I am the first to admit it. In the same regard, I have very hard kids who don't usually respond until it gets serious. I'm a loud person, which tends to trigger them, I'm personally not very cuddly either, and have to work at being approachable. But regardless, I love them with that same intensity and want only the best for them. They know the second they've messed up, yet I spare nothing in showing them how pleased I am when they get it right. Noah has every reason in the world to stay pissed and refuse to do well in life as he has gone through unimaginable grief and trauma. Yet, he is choosing to rise above it, is doing well, and that's all I really want. Is there room for improvement? Sure there is! Not only on his part, but mine, too, as his mom. I can't rightfully ask him to improve, if I'm not willing to lead by example; even if that means changing tactics when the situation allows for it. Even though I knew that grounding him works and would have propelled him to do better, I wanted to dial into his strengths and let him know that at the very core, we are proud of him and notice his efforts. He's still very aware that he is on notice and has work to do, but at least he left the conversation upbeat and with a positive outlook instead of irritated, like usual. He even told me his game plan for Monday; how he's going to talk to both of his teachers to see if there's anything he can do to improve both grades before they turn them all in on Tuesday, eating lunch with them, and staying over/skipping the game Monday to work on his grades. We shall see if he actually follows through, but nevertheless, I am encouraged by how it went, because it could have been much worse. Just goes to show you how improving your tone as a parent really can effect the outcome with your kiddos. I'm sure this won't work every time going forward, but I'll take what I can get.

Jesus the healer

So "Broah" (new nickname) 😂 has his first Cross Country track meet today, and his first football scrimmage tomorrow. Yay!! Exciting times! It's sad to admit, but I have to be honest, there was a period when I could not foresee this being in his future. It actually took us three years before we could even trust him enough to play a sport, at all, which was baseball this summer, and we had some challenges then, though not unbearable (definitely not his sport.) Yet here he is, discharged from special education and in regular classes, with regular kids, playing regular sports, and I could not be more proud to say that. I could care less if he places first or places at all, I'm just so thankful he has the ability to participate!

Right before Noah was placed with us, God audibly spoke to me one day, telling me the great things he had in mind for him. I wondered why He would speak to me about just him and not Asher, but passed that off as insignificant since I was so excited that God spoke to me about my son in the first place! I could not wait to watch His handiwork unfold. Then he was placed and I quickly realized why He felt the need to give me that "pep talk," so to speak. The sheer brokenness I saw before me rocked my faith like it has never been rocked before. "God, how could you tell me those things when you have given me a child who is this messed up? Lord, he's severely mentally ill and has to be heavily medicated to do anything! He'll probably never live on his own, and you have great things in mind for HIM?! I can barely keep him from hurting himself, let alone others. Are you sure? I cannot see what you see. Surely he is beyond repair." Prior to this, I had never been one to question the Lord, but this situation made me realize that in my life, so far, I had never really known Jesus that way and He was using this situation to reveal that part of Himself to me. Jesus the healer. Sure, I had read about healing in the Bible and witnessed some minor healing from sickness and pain in myself and others, but never to this magnitude, surely God was mistaken. But my my my, it was I who was mistaken and I am blessed today to have been so wrong!! The miracles that I've seen God do in the last three years with my child who was literally in pieces, who is now being put back together piece by aching piece by the creator of the universe! Yes, one can attribute some of that to him being placed in a family, with stability for once in his life, but that's honestly giving us too much credit. We were and are still not experts by any means. Bob and I were first time parents, never having parented any child before, let alone one with mental and emotional problems with severe destructive behavior AND his little brother who had his own needs. Yes we took the classes, but we were, in the literal sense, NOT prepared for the task we were given. And we have made so many mistakes along the way. But God. BUT GOD! If it weren't for Him we would have already thrown in the towel. If it weren't for his promises and hanging on to every little bit of faith we had left, there would be no way we could do this. All along the way God has reminded us that he is still working, even through the worst times, HE IS STILL WORKING. Putting people in our path to encourage and uplift us; strangers at mental hospitals (of all places), support groups, churches, you name it. God speaking again, telling me "we're halfway there," and another time to see him as "Faith Walking" (His words not mine); which meant rejecting what I saw as the truth of who Noah is, and intentionally seeing and treating him as if he is already restored (still a work in progress at times.) Revealing to us that he has not only prepared us in advance, but actually CREATED us for this; wasting nothing, using even our own adversities in life, just as he is doing for Noah. Here he is, using our lives and experiences as an example of his living word in Romans 8:28 when it says, "All things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." And I stand in amazement of it all.

No we were not prepared; not prepared to see the greatness of God, to meet the healing power of Jesus whose arms know no depths, whose blood cleanses even the most vile wretch, all because of His boundless love and grace for us. I'm struggling to even find the words as my words fall short and are not fit to describe the magnitude and astonishment of the Lord! I am blessed to be speechless at his miraculous works and pray that they continue to completion.


Hannah