The Ride

I am sitting at our new kitchen table - it seats 10 comfortably and we could probably add a few if need be. The boys and Emma are outside playing and Makayla and the babies are downstairs watching TV. Jennifer and Katie are running some errands...and here I sit.

The house
is quiet
for a moment and only a moment.

Even now Emma and Caleb are running in with the mail.

Our lives have been crazy this past week. I took the boys camping at Tshimikain Creek Camp to serve at the Union Gospel Mission's camp for troubled youth. It was a great time of introducing the boys to new things - a river, canoes, sharks (long story), a cougar, a campfire, and endless bicycle trails. There are many stories to tell and maybe one day I will get them recorded, but not today. We returned from camping on Thursday with great shouts of joy from the boys to see their Mom and sisters, and from their sisters to see their brothers. It promised to be a good next week.

On Friday morning, Noah woke up angry at the world and flew into one of his temper tantrums and the world turned upside down. He spent the vast majority of the day running away and sitting across the street steaming at us. He eventually began throwing rocks at our house and declaring that he was no longer Noah McConnell and that his name was Zelalem Tadios. He was also demanding to talk to Michelle from CWA so that he could go back to Africa because he was finished with us. It was a long, long day.

He eventually broke a window and busted the siding on the house and I had reached my breaking point. I chased him for a few blocks and providence would have us run right into a policeman. I eventually caught up to him before he reached the policeman. I picked up him and he began punching me in the face and chest. His first blow caught me by surprise and my grip loosened. I tried to secure his legs because he was kicking me as well. The policeman had started to make his way over to us at this time. I am sure it was a strange sight to see a white guy gently man handling a little black boy. We talked for awhile with Officer Stipe/Stine (something like that) and he encouraged Noah to return home or have Dad "carry him" home. Noah was obstinate during the whole conversation and actually asked to go to jail when the Officer suggested that he may end up there.

The Officer eventually left, wishing me well and we returned home. Noah continued to refuse to enter the house and returned to pelting the house with rocks. I chased him again and he ran to another neighbors house. I left him there and went home. That neighbor called the police and I called at the same time. A friend of ours was actually on duty and responded. Noah was so angry that he refused to obey me and the policeman. He was eventually handcuffed and put in the police car to be transported to Sacred Heart's psychiatric ward for attempting to kill himself with a steak knife. We continued to plead with Noah to simply come into the house and eat dinner and obey and he continued to yell and scream at us. Jennifer and Caleb were in tears and all the other kids were bewildered. Josiah simply said, "Zelalem crazy".

The car was about to leave when he relented and decided to come inside and obey if we promised to take him to see "Michelle at CWA". We agreed and he came in, ate dinner and then went to bed. We were on the phone throughout the situation with a couple of different counselors seeking wisdom and guidance. The next day we went to see Michelle and the conversation did not quite go the way he was expecting. She told him that he was not going to go back to Africa no matter how bad he was or what he did. Jennifer and I liken disruption to divorce and it is simply not an option for us no matter how bad it gets. We covenanted together to raise all of our children before a holy God and we take that just as seriously as our marriage. We also explained to him that the Ethiopian gov't. and American gov't. all say that he is our son. His Ethiopian Mom and even the Lord says he is our son. There is no way to go back.

After two, one hour sessions he relented and submitted. He hugged Jennifer and I, and said that we were his parents and that he was choosing to love and obey us. It was a lull in the storm and we were glad for it.

That was on Saturday and today is Monday. Since then he has had a couple of borderline moments but he committed to talking through them and not flying off into a rage. The emotional, mental and spiritual drain is that we end up having lengthy conversations about everything that he doesn't like that we decide. It is so exhausting trying to communicate using sentence fragments and single words. But we are committed no matter the cost.

It is quiet again.

I'm enjoying the momentary break.

Suffering for the Lord is good, but hard.

Thanks for praying.