Marriage RE:TREAT Reflections - Cowherd Family

We were fortunate to attend a retreat for foster/adoptive parents this past weekend, and a friend said: when you get back, and re-entry into your family and your life burns you up as if the atmosphere is trying to eat you, you’re going to be tempted to say this wasn’t worth all the money, the planning, the stress for two nights away.But it IS worth it, he said, and here’s why: your kids have seen you fighting for your marriage. They’ve seen you prioritizing each other, and they’ve been second to your union, which is the place of things. What’s more, their temporary discomfort in exchange for their later good is part of your job as a parent. And he was, right, of course. (Plus, unstressed me got to hang out with unstressed Brad, and those two kids are a ton of fun. )How beautiful that God knew I needed to hear that and nudged me to write it down. He knew I would need to remember it the very next day, when one of my daughters wondered aloud why she wasn’t born into a quiet, normal family where she could sit down and read a book like her friends. Another child admitted her heart pounds every morning and afternoon during baby breakfast and baby dinner, when the volume in our house is enough to make you cry and you would think a mac & cheese truck collided with one of our walls for all the smears everywhere.I get that feeling: I have to stop my inner introvert from retreating to my closet with tea and a book when the decibel level soars past tolerable. (To be fair, my closet has a cute window seat in it, and if I smoosh myself face against the window hard enough, I can see a bit of the sunset past over our neighbors roof.) And so the old thoughts come back: I want to squash and remove anything that stresses my big girls.But then I look up and remember: living on mission means temporary discomfort for later redemption. Everyone’s kids grow up to be the adults of tomorrow, so all kids are everyone’s kids. If my kid needs love, safety, warmth, everyone’s kid needs love, safety, and warmth. Even when it’s hard, inconvenient. And freaking loud.What if I removed the hard parts of our life and it was quiet in here? They could read a book, have slumber parties, sleep in. But they might grow up not believing it’s Jesus first, others second, yourself third. She might not know what it means to be fully dependent on Jesus, calling on the Spirit again and again for grace and to forgive her brother despite the bruises, the nail marks, the mean words. They might not put themselves out to comfort another, might not see the point in inconveniencing themselves. And that would be the real tragedy.So it’s taken me til February 23 to have a New Years resolution. And that’s to remember, by looking at my notes daily if I need to, that future redemption is worth temporary discomfort. I think I’ll stop worrying about if I’m doing right by my biological kids by being more present in our mission myself.I’ll let you know how it goes.Christina Cowherd