The value of listening

The other day I got a message from someone in our organisation in Australia who I don't know. Her role is specifically about helping advise our members about their kids, as needed. We've never met. However, somehow she'd discovered this blog and had been reading bits of our story and wanted to know what we've learned along the way, especially in regards to neurodivergence and what help we'd received that she could pass on to others if she needed to.

A photo from a few years back when the
boys all lived with us in Japan.

I asked if she would be interested in hearing our story in detail. I explained that it would just be easier to tell her, because it's a long, complex story—which is pretty normal for neurodivergence, but I suspect ours is more complex because of the cross-cultural elements. It's a story that would take me hours, even as a fast writer, to get down. She agreed, and we talked for nearly two hours. Well, most of that talking was me! She asked some great questions, including some that I've never been asked before. But I think we were both exhausted at the end. 

I have been thinking about that conversation ever since. It was great to be really listened to (she was even taking notes). But it was hard to make sure I included all the bits and pieces. The story went back around 20–25 years and there were so many threads. In the days that followed that conversation, I kept thinking of more things that I could have added! But I think that in the end she got all (and probably much more) than she needed. It made me aware again of the various people God has given me along the way who have listened to me tell parts of our story, with all my struggles, questions, and tears. I'm so thankful. I'm thankful to all who have prayed for us, usually without much information, but just that we were struggling.

It's a huge blessing to be able to look back at all of that and see where our kids are now and that they're all okay. One of the hardest things about being a parent is not knowing the end of the story. Of course all parents have to make decisions without all the information that you feel you need (especially a comparison between the outcomes of two different decisions). Not knowing what long-term impact your decisions will have on your kid is difficult, but when your children aren't thriving or "fitting the norm" it's even harder. One of the extra hard things about being a missionary parent is not having many people around you whose situation is similar to yours and few who understand the nuances of your situation. It can be quite a lonely and difficult place to do parenting and make hard decisions.

So, what's the point of me sharing this? I think, to shed light on the difficulty of being a parent of a kid with neurodivergence and that it is even harder when one is living a missionary life. But most especially to note that the most valuable thing you might be able to do for such a parent is to listen to them. You might not be able to provide any solutions, or point a parent to a place where they can get help, or help them make an important decision, but if they feel heard then that is a help. Parenting kids who have difficulties is a lonely job, it's hard for others to understand the daily challenges you face. If someone is willing to stop and listen to you talk about those challenges, it's a huge encouragement.

Neurodivergence and transition

This week I've seen a couple of articles from A Life Overseas website about neurodiverse missionary kids. It's a journey we've walked and I‘ve written about (here), so I was interested to see what these articles had to say about it. And it wasn't too much different to what I'd written, though obviously not in first person and thinking in more detail of a broader audience that will encounter many different cultures.

A photo from 2017 with our three guys

I didn't find the first article all that helpful, though someone who knows nothing about neurodivergence would probably find it a good entry point into thinking about their kid (or someone else's) who just don't seem to fit or find things difficult that the rest of us take in our stride. First article: How to Notice Neurodiversity in Third Culture Kids

The second article "How to Help Neurodiverse TCKs in Transition" came out today and it hit very close to home. Transition is one of the big issues that our kids struggled with. It's shaped how we've raised our children and the decisions we've made about moves, holidays, home assignments, how we've used our home, how much hospitality and travel we engaged in, etc.

One particular story comes to mind. In June 2018, we moved to Australia for six months home assignment. We knew that one of our teenage sons needed to see a psychologist, so tried to work ahead to make that happen, because in the end six months isn't that long and could easily be taken up with a waiting list. Our habit has been to find a mid-way place to stop between Japan and Brisbane as we move back—that gives us a short time to breathe, after finishing everything in Japan before diving into all that's required for settling a family in Australia. It never feels like enough time, it also usually feels chaotic and the "when can we get settled" feelings come over us.

Anyway, that year we decided to stop in Sydney for a few days. I found low-cost accommodation for a few days with a mission and we were making the best of it. No one was in a good condition, however. We were all tired, unsettled, and not at all comfortable with our unfamiliar surroundings. The boys were facing six months without their friends or classmates, familiar surroundings or belongings, and without their usual routines. Everything, except each other, was different.

In the midst of this especially messy time, I got a phone call from the psychologist's office. I was literally standing in the midst of open suitcases in a hotel-type room in Sydney. It was the kind of routine admission phone call that they make. The admissions officer asked me a bunch of standard questions and I remember laughing out loud at one that read something like "Between 1 and 10, 1 being in good place and 10 being really not good, how would you say your child's mental wellbeing is today?" I tried to explain why I was laughing, and she brushed it off, asking just to answer anyway...of course he wasn't in a good way that day!

I have many, many stories. In the blog post I wrote two years ago (first link in today's post), I wrote these words:

We've got many sad memories of the difficulty of getting our kids seated in a crowded [unknown] church, of awkward whispered conversations with people who assumed our kids would join the Sunday School, or even a child who refused to get out of the car and come into church at all. And then the difficulties of staying in other people's homes: relatives, friends, and strangers. So many unspoken expectations surround situations like that, including conversation, politeness, and even that two children will share a room willingly. And all the while, feeling like our kids and observations of our parenting are somehow part of a report card on our fitness as missionaries. That's a lot of uncomfortable pressure.

Overall, though, we've been blessed with being able to provide a lot of stability and minimal transition through most of our sons' growing up years, though, and for that, I'm very grateful.

I think that one reason that we are especially happy in our new season with our boys living independent of us, is that we no longer have to drag them through the sorts of transition that litter a missionaries career. They have much more control over their lives now they don't live with us. And we are free to make decisions without the complication of deciding how these decisions would work for the whole family, how well our kids would cope with whatever transition our decision/s would inflict on them.

All that being, said, probably our kids have ended up more flexible just because they had no choice about it. It was painful at time, for all of us, but probably it has helped them grow as individuals and hopefully they are more resilient because we haven't surrounded them with cotton wool. Like most things, too much is bad, but so is too little. Hopefully we've landed somewhere in the middle, by God's grace.

Please reach out to me directly if you'd like to talk more on this subject. I find it's easier to be more open about our personal experiences in a private conversation than it is on this public forum.

Neurodivergence and missionary families

Here's one definition of this term that has become popular in the last few years:

Neurodivergence refers to any difference in the way our brain works, processes information, and interacts with the world around us. This umbrella term includes autism spectrum disorder (ASD), attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), dyslexia, learning disabilities, Asperger's syndrome, and more (from here).

Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

I was proud to learn that the term was coined by an Australian sociologist. And only four years ago! So it's a very new word and one that I like a lot because it's so helpful and positive.

Our family has been influenced by neurodivergence from quite early on, and the particular brand we've been dealing with is ASD, of the "Asperger" type.

Recently a colleague, who also has parented a neurodivergent child through to adulthood, was asked to address the topic with a group of missionary leaders who help our mission take care of the kids and families in our organisation. She asked about our experience and for any recommendations we'd have for resources. We ended up talking about some of our experiences and, with the benefit of hindsight, I wanted to share with you something of what it is like as a missionary family dealing with kids who don't fit into the neurotypical box.

It's hard on many fronts.

Diagnosis

It's not always clear what's going on when you're raising a child who doesn't fit the "norm." It can be even harder when you aren't in your home country, because it isn't always clear what the "norm" is. For example, if your child is in a local school overseas, every day they are dealing with more than one language and culture. Moving from your home to school and back again represents crossing cultures each time. It might not be clear exactly what the trouble is: it could be linguistic or not understanding the culture of the kids they are with or even a lack of friends. Or it could be that the teachers have never dealt with a child who isn't a local, and don't know what to do, or how to communicate with you or your child. Schools in different countries are very different. Or, your child could be in a small international school with few resources, or you could be homeschooling them an have no training in recognising neurodivergence.

The other challenge with getting a diagnosis is finding someone to do that. In Japan neurodivergence isn't well understood, not to mention doing an assessment in Japanese wouldn't have worked so well for our boys who haven't become fluent in the language. So, getting a diagnosis was easier when we were in Australia. We're fortunate to be in a big city in Japan where we've had access to an American-trained psychologist, but that isn't often the case for missionaries. And even then, at one point we had to have a reassessment done in Australia because a diagnosis by a paediatrician is required in our home country.

Resources and services

Missionaries often have limited access to the sorts of resources and services that their peers in their home countries might take for granted. Although from what I've heard, even in home countries, parents of neurodivergent kids often have to advocate hard to get services for their kids, especially kids who are higher functioning. Missionaries are even more on their own. Thankfully more resources are available online these days, so it is pretty easy to access support groups and tonnes of information, even if you can't access person-to-person services for your kids.

Schooling

Education choices are more limited when you're serving overseas; they are also more complicated. And that's for neurotypical kids. If your kids don't fit into that box, then it's even more difficult. We know colleagues who have ended up homeschooling and numerous others who've had to return to their home countries permanently.

And then there's home assignment. It involves changing schools (and churches, homes, friends, food, and general environment), not to mention changing cultures. No one finds this easy. It involves a lot of transition, which is something kids on the Autistic spectrum don't deal with well, but I suspect other kids who are neurodivergent also do it tough.

Behaviour

Somehow missionary kids are expected to be well behaved, just like pastor's kids. Even though we all know that children are flawed individuals, we (adults in general) still have these expectations. Missionaries often feel like we live in a bit of a glass house. 

We write regular newsletters. Parents of neurodivergent kids carefully select the bits they're comfortable sharing and that they think will be favourably received. But I think this is true of missionaries in general. Of course wisdom is always needed in what you share with anyone— too much isn't good, but neither is being too selective. And prayer letters are public communications: we never know who will read them. Most missionaries have received unhelpful advice from people who think they understand our situation and our kids, but don't really. We generally share more details with a smaller group of close friends. But we need to share something with the wider audience so that they can pray and also so that we have some accountability, because this is where much of our income is coming from. But as you can imagine, these communication decisions aren't easy to make.

And then we go on home assignment, when we're even more on display as a family. When our children are younger we "drag" them around to various speaking appointments, and at each place, there are unspoken expectations. The worst are, unfortunately, usually Sunday morning church services, where kids are expected to sit quietly in a strange-to-them building brushing shoulders with strangers, and then afterwards be pleasant to anyone who chooses to talk to them. As a parent in that situation, we feel the pressure to be advocates for our kids, on top of all the other responsibilities that come with being the "visiting missionary". It's exhausting.

We've got many sad memories of the difficulty of getting our kids seated in a crowded church, of awkward whispered conversations with people who assumed our kids would join the Sunday School, or even a child who refused to get out of the car and come into church at all. And then the difficulties of staying in other people's homes: relatives, friends, and strangers. So many unspoken expectations surround situations like that, including conversation, politeness, and even that two children will share a room willingly. And all the while, feeling like our kids and observations of our parenting are somehow part of a report card on our fitness as missionaries. That's a lot of uncomfortable pressure.

So, this all sounds rather negative. I do need to tell you, though, that we've made it through. We've spent the last 22 ½ years raising our boys (mostly) in Japan, and we've gotten them all through to officially being adults. And each of them has finished (or is about to) high school. We know that that's not the end of our involvement in their lives, and that each of them has much more growing to do as people, but by God's amazing grace, we've made it this far, and we look forward to seeing where they go and what they do in the future.

Have there been times when we thought it would be better to be doing this in Australia? Yes. The big challenge of parenting is that not only do you not know how things are going to turn out, you don't get any "redos" or "practice runs". You have to make decisions based on the information you currently have to hand and the wise people you have surrounding you. As Christians you also take your hard situations to God in prayer and ask for his wisdom, trusting that he will guide you.

God's power for the weak

I was encouraged this week by a reminder of God's great power for his children. The same power that he used to raise Christ from the dead. 

It's mentioned in Philippians 3: 10–11 and in Ephesians 1:19–20: "His incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms" (NIV).

And Paul, the writer of both those passages also says, "But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus" (Phil. 3:13–14 NIV).

I can't finish a blog post about parenting without telling you the "parenting" verse that's helped me persevere through the years:

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up" (Gal. 6:9 NIV).

Good memories, no regrets

Is another wrestling post warranted? I do want to document that my youngest son was crowned Far East Champion of the 215 lb weight class on Wednesday. He wrestled very well and none of his opponents could find much of a chink in his armour. 

It wasn't our first rodeo, as you may know. We went to Korea to watch our eldest son compete in the same competition six years ago. Each of their journeys was quite different. Our eldest did a lot of off-season wrestling in non-school clubs, and also had a two-year rival who he had wrestled many times and not always won (though his rival didn't beat him during our son's senior year, he did make him work hard for the victories), so when they faced off in the semifinal and again in the final, the result was definitely unknown. 

Our youngest son hasn't been able to do anywhere near the same amount of wrestling during his high school years, for various reasons, including injury and a pandemic. He has spent a lot of time in the gym, though, building up strength and body mass. At the start of the tournament he was also unbeaten so far in the season, but it's also not his greatest passion, so in some ways the stakes didn't feel as high. 

Although no one told my body that. I had the same physiological reactions: lost sleep, messed up digestion, raised heart rate, general shakiness and difficulty concentrating. When I'm at a wrestling tournament, I can't read (and I'm a reading addict), nor can I even feasibly play a game; we tried to play Scrabble on the second day, but struggled. Two nights of waking at 2am and not really falling deeply back to sleep, plus two days of sitting in a noisy gym, really did a number on me. I was glad to not have an international flight and then travel on trains back from the airport like I did six years ago, but it's been hard to get back to work these last couple of days.

One way to tell that you're at a gym

hosting a wrestling tournament...

you find this on the back of the toilet

cubicle door.

It was fun to go away with David, even if it was for two days of wrestling! We enjoyed doing this together, and shared passions are important as you move towards a time when your kids all leave home. We made great memories and I have no regrets. Oh, and it was fabulous being able to support our son like this.

One fun memory centres around hair. Our son's hair is now wavy and long (below his shoulders), definitely tricky for wrestling, where you can't use anything but hairbands and product to secure it. His brothers have always kept their hair short, so we've never dealt with this before. I've never had much to do with my boys’ hair, actually! But on Monday one of the first things our son said to me when we saw him was, "Can you braid my hair?" Wow! I've had short hair for nearly 12 years and I can't actually remember if I've ever braided someone else's hair . . . I wasn't that kinda girl. 

Neither of us had a comb and my first go at it was straight after he'd warmed up, so he was sweaty! We didn't have hairspray and only two hair-ties, so it got messy pretty quickly after he helped a teammate warm up for a match (they use their heads quite a lot). He wanted me to redo it then, but we weren't sure when his first match would be, and I was already shaky. Braiding hair with shaky hands isn't recommended. 

I was particularly nervous that I'd get partway done and he'd be called up for his match. There's no waiting if you're called. It's something that new wrestlers (and their parents) have to learn about a tournament: there's no timetable, you simply wait for your name to be called, and it can be excruciating (and hard to figure out when to eat). Once you're called, you've got to hoof it to register that you're present and ready to go, with all the gear you need (in your wrestling singlet and shoes and warm-up clothes, plus a water bottle and headgear). This tournament was well organised and had wrestlers waiting "on deck" about three bouts ahead. A bout can last 20 seconds or over six minutes, but they don't tolerate delays.

In any case, I couldn't see myself doing a decent job of braiding his hair in that situation, so I went for a "first aid" solution. My networking came in handy: I knew the mum of one of the female wrestlers, so I went to find her and ask if her team (which had several girls with long hair) had any hairspray. She went right to work and found a girl quickly who dug around in her bag, pulling out not just hairspray but something that looked like mascara. It had a wand that you pull across the top of hair that is "done" to glue those flyaways down—I had to ask her how to use it. Her coach, who I also know, was sitting nearby quietly laughing as I explained how I only had boys and needed help here. She was great!

Well, it worked, and he made it through his first match without distracting hair in his face. Then we had time, and I had another go at braiding it and did slightly better.

The next morning when we met in the gym (our room wasn't near the team), I had a third go, before his final. This time I brought a comb I'd snaffled from our hotel bathroom and handed him some "action" hairspray that I'd bought the night before at the mall near the hotel, and instructed him on how to use it. Our boys haven't grown up with sisters, and he was only six when I cut my hair short . . . there are some things they just don't know!

It's a good thing the braiding was for practical purposes, not aesthetics, but I was pleased that because I was present I could do this one thing for him. In fact the whole couple of days was very much about being wholly present for our son (and his teammates). It was a joy to have the flexibility to do that.

Oh, and giving my sweaty son a shaky hug after he'd won gold was a highlight too. And he didn't pick me up, like he did his coaches!

These moments when we get to intensely invest in our kids are soon going to get more difficult to find. I'm treasuring them.

Faulty thinking

Ah, how easily we fall into cause-and-effect thinking, you know, the kind of thinking that goes like: "If I do all the right things, it will turn out okay." It works for some things, but that kind of thinking gets to be very unhelpful when it overflows into things like illness, relationship breakdown, employment loss, and other aspects of our imperfect lives in this imperfect world. Of course you can cause breakdowns in these areas, but there is a surprising amount of stuff that you simply can't control by "being good". Yet we still act as though we can.

Getting some perspective

I've seen parents going out of their minds trying to do a perfect job of parenting. From prior to conception, potential parents are bombarded with "rules" as to how to be the perfect parent. I saw a reel the other day telling me that I should have played a special soothing song to my sons before they were born . . . that we would have had a better time with them as newborns! 

We're told that during the school years to make sure they have plenty of exercise, or to learn an instrument or a language, or to have lots of down time, or to read to them often. And it's implied that they should have perfect behaviour at school and excellent school results, that we need to make sure they've got all their homework done on time and ensure they have time with friends too, not to mention a perfect diet.

Parents are told to develop family traditions and give our kids the best examples. Christian families have a lot of expectations on them too, from family and personal devotions, to church and Youth Group attendance. And of course this isn't new.

Some of our motivation is most likely fuelled by the thought: I will be blessed if I do this. Such is the strength of the myth: "bad things don't happen to good people". And therefore I have to do all in my power to be the best person I can be. And when you're a parent, that puts an awful amount of pressure on you, especially if things go wrong. Sadly many Christian parenting books seem to champion this flawed thinking and seem to completely forget about God's grace. 

When bad things happen, the logical conclusion when you're thinking this way is that "it's my fault" or you start looking around for someone else to blame. But that isn't always the case. How often do we look at others struggling with their children in public and silently judge them, wondering what they did to deserve such misery. And how miserable people are when their kids go off in directions their parents don't want them to or don't take the "expected path". 

So many expectations and so much misery.

People in more prominent positions, like pastors and missionaries suffer too, and possibly more. The expectations seem higher when there are a lot of people watching you.

My husband and I are watching the fifth season of The Crown. It's a historical-fiction series about British royal family and they're currently covering the 1990s, when the family suffered a number of marriage breakdowns, as well as other hardships. The Queen actually publicly described 1992 as her "annus horribilis." We can barely imagine what it's like to live such a high profile life, but you can see the same pattern: perfection is aimed at, failed to be achieved, and people feel the need to blame. A cause-and-effect thought pattern that works well in some aspects of our world, but not so well in others.

Over the last few years we've personally been in a season of "walking beside" our older teens/young adults as they go through difficult times. It's been hard, and we've had to let go of our expectations (many we didn't realise we even had) and seek to find ways to love them unconditionally as well as encourage them.

Those of us who follow the God of the Bible need to be careful. We have a tendency to try to do deals with God: if I'm good, you have to bless me with a hardship-free life. Even if we don't think we think that way, it can so easily slip in. For example, thinking: if I pray hard about something God will have to do something good. If I get parenting right, then my kids will turn out right (turning Proverbs 22:6 into a promise instead of just wise advice: "Train up a child in the way they should go, and when they are old they will not depart from it.")

I was encouraged by a sermon I listened to the other day. The preacher, who has gone through plenty of hardship himself said: "The good news is that you cannot be bad enough to ensure God's condemnation of your family." And "the bad news is that you cannot be good enough to ensure God's blessing on your family . . . the future of your family, for good or ill, is in the hands of God." He finished by asking: What hope is there? Turn to the One who holds the future in his hands and ask him to honour himself through your family. God uses our messes: just look at Jesus' genealogy, it's full of broken families!

This is not an encouragement to be slack, but rather an encouragement to cut yourself some slack. Things will go wrong, when they do, it's not necessarily your fault. And the same for how you quietly think about those around you. 

I've struggled to get my thoughts down on this topic and press Publish. But I hope that it's as helpful to you as it's been to me to think about these things.

Last week was quite a week!

I always struggle to write here after I've shared something deep and vulnerable. I've been truly bowled over by the encouragement I've received since hitting "Publish" last Tuesday. Some of it can be seen on my Facebook page, with more than 20 comments there. Here's a sample:

"You're not alone. Thanks for sharing your experience and heart."

"Wendy, I didn't know. I'm so sorry you've had to walk this journey."

"Thank you for posting this . . . We all face many challenges in our lives and families, and we need to know we aren't alone."

"It's also a struggle that doesn't end with children growing up and leaving home."

    [Yes, I know. I've had one son in Australia right through the pandemic who hasn't had an easy time. It's been hard to watch him at times.]    

A friend shared this beautiful prayer:

Father of all Compassion, God of healing and hope, I pray today for those who suffer deeply within their minds, naming particular friends and family before you now.

Prince of Peace, minister most gently to those who are closest to you because their hearts and minds are broken. Speak ancient words that silence storms. Break stigma, isolation and shame.

Wonderful Counsellor, Spirit of Shalom, renew the wisdom of those who care and the resilience of those who share their lives with vulnerable people. Wherever there is a ‘spirit of despair’ please pour out the ‘oil of gladness’ today in unexpected moments of joy.

And so, may the love of the Father, the grace of the Spirit and the mind of Christ himself prevail in our world.

Amen            ~ Pete Greig

People wrote comments on the actual blog post too. And I've received in-person hugs as well as several private messages. It's been a bit of an overwhelming response.

It was a bit of an interesting week last week, actually. The week before I'd been struggling with not being busy enough (and with David being away on a school trip and no little kids to look after, and a bit of lull at work, plus rain meaning I couldn't go riding). I had that horrible voice in my head: "You're a bit useless Wendy, not much good at all." It was in the context of all that that I both saw that Facebook comment that first made me angry and then propelled me to write.

David and I celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary a 
few weeks ago.

Then, after having hit publish last Tuesday, I had people telling me that I wasn't useless at all. That I'd given them a voice when they didn't have one. That in itself was an encouragement.

I had a friend who I mostly know online (we've met once). She's followed my exploits and what I've written for many years now and specifically reminded me of many of the things we've done to invest in our boys (e.g. reading to the boys at dinner, camping, games nights, sport etc., plus working hard at drawing closer to each other as parents).

I also, independent of writing that blog post, I found some more of "my people": a group of expats in Japan who also have "special kids". I cried as I told them an abbreviated version of my story. Though I've told parts of my story to quite a number of people now, I don't always cry. But to tell it to others who know what it's like to struggle with hidden (or not so hidden) disability with their kids, in a land where they aren't natives, was powerful.

I also had another coffee time with a friend who is going through a different kind of parenting struggle and she wrote to me later with encouragement about our conversation. She also specifically assured me that I am certainly not useless!

So, it was quite the week.

But it's just a step along the journey. We're by no means finished this long road of parenting, and I don't think this side of heaven we ever will. But if my story can help encourage others along the way, then I'm doing the right thing: helping others by using my gift of writing true stories. If I can encourage you to tell others about the secret struggles you are having, then I'm also doing the right thing. 

Let's not be ashamed of the less-than-perfect lives that we live: none of our kids are perfect and none of us parents are perfect. But we can do the best we can in the circumstances we find ourselves in. And if we are Christians, we can keep our eyes fixed on our heavenly Father, who never leaves us, and indeed goes before us.

The truth about journeying with illness that isn’t physical

Monday was international mental health awareness day and as this is something that has become part of my family's life over the last few years, I have been pondering how to write about it. I'm hesitant, but last week I was encouraged by two separate people within an hour of one another, that telling our stories is valuable and important, something I know, but need reminding of occasionally. And another person on the same day asked about my writing. All of this was a reminder that God has given me a gift for writing, so I should use it, even when it is a little bit scary. For though I’ve talked to various people about portions of the journey that our family have been on with mental illness, writing it in a public forum is a different level. I’m scared to hit publish on this post!

Until mental illness became part of my own family's story, I knew little about it. Though possibly I knew more than some as my university degree touched on it. But I consciously tried to stay as far away from having to interact with this topic and this “scene” as I could, until it appeared under my own roof and I couldn't run any more. I’m writing for those of you who have no experience of living with someone with a mental illness, that you might know some of the struggles we have. But I also write for the other parents out there who are quietly, perhaps silently, struggling.

I recently got quite upset when someone wrote on their social media page that they'd never heard a negative comment about their child. It's difficult to imagine a life like that. I'd like to be someone who hasn't had to talk to teachers about their child's behaviour (behaviour that stemmed from a neurodevelopmental disorder and mental illness). I'd like to be someone who hasn't had to take their child to a psychologist for an assessment and had a diagnosis (or several) presented to them. I'd like to be someone who hasn't had to research psychiatric drugs and sit in a psychiatrist's office.

I'm scarred because I've heard mothers of classmates of my son say things that show they don't understand their kids are barely aware that my son is in their class, let alone that he’s struggling. And I’m wounded because another mother told me she'd hate to have a child with a disability. So

This little plant is thriving in a hard place. That's what I want to see me and my family doing too. 

I hesitate to share about our experience because I know there are people out there who simply aren't interested in understanding.

But what I was most sad about when I started this blog post the other day is that someone may think that they have never heard a negative thing about their child because they are great parents and have, in their own power and strength, raised amazing children.

I know that I haven't been a perfect parent and that my kids have not had a perfect childhood, but I can't allow myself to be ashamed that they've struggled. That we've struggled as a family. A lot of what's happened isn't my fault, and nor is it the fault of my children.

I wish I didn't have the knowledge that suicidal thoughts are part of one of my son's experience. I wish that another of my sons hadn't had someone close to him take her life.

I wish that our dinner times had been ones of great conversation and connection over the years. We’ve often struggled, and it’s not because we don’t value that time. We’ve tried, really hard, every day, but dinners are still often a struggle. Polite conversation is not something everyone does well, or happily. I wish I could say I hadn’t felt judged because of my kids’ social skills.

Mental illness in a teenager is difficult because it is very often not easy to diagnose. It masquerades as a lack of motivation, as belligerence, as disobedience, as stubbornness, or a lack of confidence, and many other ways that look like behavioural issues, not illness.

For example: Is not sitting with anyone at lunchtime at school worthy of concern? Are they shy and prefer their own company, or do they lack the same interests or social skills as other children, are they the victim of bullying, or are they socially anxious, or do the sounds that other people make when they eat bother them? As they get older: not being able to get assignments in on time: is that just poor organisation, or is it because they have trouble concentrating, or are they depressed and struggling with motivation? Or is the effort just to get out of the house and interact with others through the day draining them of all the energy they have and there’s none left for doing difficult assignments?

I wish I was someone who could talk freely with my son about future plans. Plans for college or work; about the big, hairy audacious goals that some young people have. For several years we’ve struggled to talk to him about the next week. Anxiety takes a toll and makes planning for the next day hard, let alone planning for the start of life after high school.

As a parent of someone with mental illness, I've had to be hypervigilant at times (and I know that is the case for some parents of kids with other disorders also, like epilepsy and some kids on the Autistic Spectrum). Hypervigilance is exhausting. It's a hidden hurdle a parent must overcome to participate in daily life outside the home. If you have to be hypervigilant, it's important to take care of yourself and please don't feel you have to make excuses.

Mental illness in your house means you become a buffer between your child and the rest of the world. An advocate too, if you choose to be. I've had to spend a lot of time explaining our son and our family to others. Explaining why my son isn't getting out of bed at an "appropriate" time, explaining why he's wearing headphones, or why he's hitting his head. I've had to explain why he's not participating in polite dinner conversation or why he won't share a bedroom with his brother when we're traveling.

We've had to adjust our family's life and our parenting in so many big and small ways, it is hard to even remember them all now because many have become instinctual. It's only when other people see us behaving in a way they don't think is normal that we remember (and may have to explain).

Grief is part of all this and I guess that is part of why I feel this so deeply when people "boast" about their brilliant kids. I grieve that my family has suffered in this way. I am sad that what seems easy to some, is a battle for us. On a bad day it's tough to keep looking upwards, to trust that our God loves us and our kids as much as he says he does. To know that he goes before us, and that our situation is known to him. 

Milestones for older kids

When kids are little we celebrate them being able to walk, to talk, to use a pencil, and to use the toilet on their own. As they grow they learn to take care of all their hygiene needs (my boys took way longer to achieve this than I thought it would, specifically, willingness to shower without prompting). 

An interesting perspective. Likewise, we
need perspective when we're parenting.

But gets blurrier as they get into the teen years. Walking is pretty clear cut for most kids, it's around 12 months (mine walked a full two months earlier!). But as they grow you gradually realise they are on a time schedule that you don't know much about. There's a lot of stuff that needs to slot into place for them to become fully independent adults, but that arrives at different times for different people and in different cultures and situations.

Higher level skills include time management and self-management. They learn to get themselves up on time and take themselves to bed, to get schoolwork done and find time to spend with friends outside of school. They learn to organise their things, to shop, and to get themselves places. They learn to advocate for themselves and ask for help, to seek medical care, and make appointments. They learn to manage their emotions and who to trust. They grow in willingness to do necessary tasks to maintain their living environment. They learn to plan ahead a longer distance and make big decisions about their lives. They also learn, sooner or later, how to act as an employee.

We adults all struggle with some of these things to one degree or another. But they are all skills important for living as an independent adult. But teaching them to our kids isn't necessarily easy. Some kids do pick up these things easily, but others struggle and as a parent you aren't always ready for that. I have to admit I kind of expected that these things would come naturally, but so far not all of these things have been natural for each of our boys. However there has been variation, just like there is for learning to walk and talk.

But no one really talks much about this. And you can bring to the parenting "table" the assumption that if your kids pick up these things quickly and easily, then you are a good parent. Indeed, perhaps, a better parent than others. Obviously, when I write it out in black and white here, it's a skewed view of self, but it sneaks into our thoughts about ourselves.

So, I'm here to say to you parents of older kids—stick at it. This is challenging, in different ways to when we were teaching them how to wipe their noses (which also took a long time for my kids, though I can no longer remember how long). And try to keep your eyes down, don't compare your kids to other kids. Don't equate your own "success" or "value" with your kids quickly achieving these milestones of independence.

Here are a couple of quotes from a book I read several years ago (and should probably read again): 

Parenting, like all tasks under the sun, is intended as an endeavor of love, risk, perseverance, and above all, faith. It is faith rather than formula, grace rather than guarantees, steadfastness rather than success that bridges the gap between our own parenting efforts, and what, by God's grace, our children grow up to become. (This actually comes from Leslie Leyland Fields, , "The Myth of the Perfect Parent," Christianity Today, January 2010, 27.)

And: 

No parent, no matter how dedicated, expert, present, and loving, can produce a perfectly healthy and happy adult. Such a feat is simply not within our power.

Kids bring constraints

"We can't get out to meet people because of our kids." 

Our boys' social lives are completely turned on their
heads on home assignment. There are some kids that
they remember, but with three to five years between
encounters, things can be awkward. But often they have
had to socialising with people who David and I know, 
rather than people they know.

This was said by an experienced missionary on home assignment whose journey through parenting as a missionary has gone a very different path to ours. Most of their home assignments have been as singles or as a childless couple. 

Our whole missionary journey has been with children, so we've never been without the challenge of doing home assignment without considering our children. When they were younger we more easily bundled them in the car and took them wherever we went, though we had to consider things like feeds (yep, done deputation with two of our boys when they were newborns), daytime sleeps, and early bedtimes. 

We used to pray before each church meeting that there would be someone who would take it upon themselves to volunteer as a temporary babysitter while we spoke during the service. 

As they got older, we had to consider entertainment and distraction: how to keep their busy bodies and minds in check while we did our thing. Then school came into the equation and we had to make home assignment decisions around schooling that involved where we lived, when we worked, and how we'd juggle moving between two different schooling systems and school years (one starting in August and one in January).

These days we're free-er to go out without them, sometimes leaving them on their own at home during the day. This home assingment we have had one at uni, one at a day school, and one doing homeschooling. All three options had an impact on the way we did things. 

But as teens they are much more opinionated about what we do and how we do it. We've been as considerate as we could in how we include them and how much we expect of them. That has included sometimes allowing our younger two to go to our home church without us, while we've been at another church, choosing not to stay overnight at a church 90 minutes from our house, or turning down the opportunity to take on a week-long opportunity at a church far enough away that we'd have had to stay there the week. 

And we've never expected them to stand up in front of a church with us or participate in any way, other than being present (which has been enough of a trial at times—they've heard our standard spiel more than a dozen times and David's single sermon at least half a dozen times, not to mention fielding questions from interested/concerned bystanders who felt that our boys needed to receive attention). These are decisions that we've judged best for our kids and our family in general, they aren't general recommendations for how anyone else should do home assignment, though I believe wise parents will always do their best to consider the needs of their kids as they make decisions about home assignment.

But some people have had trouble, at times, understanding our decisions. We've tried to be understanding and, when necessary, explain in a general way that doesn't infringe on our family's privacy. But I do wonder sometimes, why the standards must be different for us than they are for others. After all, I think most families with teenagers would not agree that they could happily uproot their family, go to a different country, put their kids in school, and drag them all over the place—visiting churches and other groups on their weekends and at nights. It is a really hard thing to ask of a family, but missionary familes are expected to do it.

Though I have to remember that other people don't know our kids or our family very well, and it's not easy for others to see the reasoning behind the decisions we make and how much stress we hold as we try to do our best to consider everyone's needs as well as our responsibilities.

Needless to say, we're happy to be going back to Japan soon and walking away from many of these stressors. We have a much more "normal" life in Japan. One where our weeks are pretty regular, with boys at school, and David and I working regular office hours. Our weekends are full of sport and church and resting.

I hope this doesn't come across as a big whinge. This is something that is close to my heart, and it's hard not to write passionately about it. I'm really grateful to the people who pray for our kids as their deal with our not-so-ordinary lifestyle.

Japanese sport for kids

Here's something I whipped up over the weekend. Enjoy, and don't forget to ask if you'd like a better copy, or to be put on our mailing list.

Noteworthy weekend

Another weekend-roundup. There really were only two noteworthy events on the weekend.

Track and field
The first was the final athletics meet for the year (for us). It took us away from home from 6.40am to 8pm. A long day! I ended up riding with the team in the morning and driving some of the team/supporters/coaching staff home in a school van. It's a 52 kilometre round trip, it took more than 2½ hrs to drive that!

Our son ran three individual races 100m, 200m, and 400m. He recorded PR/PBs in two of those events, much to our delight. He also ran the 4x400m. It was a "freshman" (9th grade) team consisting of the same guys who won a medal last year at the middle school finals. Obviously they were competing against guys older and stronger than them, but their goal was to beat their time from last year and they did this and narrowly missed their goal of 3 min 50 sec. It will be interesting to see if they'll have a chance to do this again next year.


Mother's Day
The other noteworthy event was a Mother's Day morning tea in a fancy coffee shop with David and our two younger boys. This is the second year that I told them that's all I wanted. 

Motherhood is a long-distance event of constantly loving kids regardless of how they treat you. I can't really say much more without invading the privacy of my boys. I got my morning tea, and there was some fun, but there were some tense moments too.

I've included this incident (as veiled as my description of it is) because I know that I'm not the only one who has difficult teenagers, though we hesitate to tell one another. I also know that when we set up a day such as Mother's Day, there are often high expectations and frequently circumstances mean that we don't hit them and we're disappointed. If that is your situation, for whatever reason, I don't want to discourage you by giving you the impression I have the perfect family, because I don't. My kids aren't perfect and neither are David or I. We don't love one another perfectly either. 

This is probably a whole post on its own, but I've been challenged recently by the Holy Spirit about loving the difficult people who are in my life: my own teenagers who I can't choose to avoid. I even thanked God on Sunday morning (before we even got out of bed) that because I have these kids, I have this opportunity to grow as a result.

One more thing that I can tell you about was that I did have the opportunity to talk with my own mum (and dad) for an hour via a video call in the afternoon, which was wonderful. So thankful for today's technology!

Back in Tokyo

I'm physically back in Tokyo, but still struggling to get my head back into the right space. These last two weeks were very tiring, as I predicted. Last week was more emotional than I'd foreseen, though, and I think that has also taken its toll. I have to say that I'm enjoying a less social week this week!

However, in the meantime life continues onwards as usual. I got home at 11pm on Friday night, after leaving Sapporo at 3pm. I got about five hours sleep before we got up and went to our sons' track and field meet. Thankfully, though it was an early start, I didn't have to drive or take the train, and I was able to sit beside David as he drove the team and catch up. Last week was so busy that we weren't able to talk even once. Then, because we arrived early (CAJ helps run these events, so if you travel with the team you're always early), I was able to lie down in the bus for a while.

I even managed, with the aid of coffee, to take some half-decent photos and talk to people.

A discus photo for some variety.

David and some friends also organised for me to get a lift home a bit earlier than if I'd travelled with the team.

But despite my exhaustion, it was a good day. The temperature was about perfect (low 20s) and we sat under trees, so there was no concern about sunburn. The atmosphere was quite relaxed and picnic-like.

Last week was interesting, in that many of the people at the workshop are single or have no children. It's quite a different dynamic to the people I usually hang out with. They were a bit horrified at what I was planning to do on Saturday, but for me it is just what you do as a mum. When your children are little, you get up during the night to help them. As they get older you go to their performances, their school events, and watch them use their skills and abilities, even if it means getting less sleep than you need. It does mean that I have less energy to do ministry than if I didn't have kids, but being a mum to my children is also an important role that God's given me.

The other event that's happened since I returned was our youngest turning 13! We celebrated quietly at home in the usual fashion (for us) with a cake, presents, and a meal he requested. It's the first time we've had a "boy birthday" without one of the boys around, so that was weird and will take some getting used to. The boy who's gone will also need to figure out what he's going to do about birthdays etc. when he's on the other side of the ocean to us.

But now the "working week" has begun and I'm trying to work my way through the various tasks that await, including a whole lot of deadlines that I've already missed. The weather is gorgeous and I'd love to go for a ride tomorrow, but I'm not sure whether I want to walk away from my desk for several hours to do that or not. But don't worry, I'm not totally neglecting myself. I read an entire 400 page novel over the weekend. Yesterday I went to the dentist for a regular checkup and this afternoon I have a massage and haircut scheduled which involves a 6-9k ride (depending on the route I take).

Kids newsletter March '18

My quarterly kids newsletter for your use.

Kids newsletter for December

I sent this Kids Newsletter out this week to those on our email list. Feel free to use it. If you'd like a better copy or even to be on the mailing list, drop me a line.

I'm also looking for suggestions for a theme for 2018.

Friendships with sports-parents

Today I met a friend for coffee. Not an unusual thing for me to do at all. I mention it because this is one of our friends who I've usually met during the sporting seasons. Our kids have done wrestling and track and field together, which both mean long days in the stands. We've spent many, many hours sitting on hard benches together.

This is the friend I travelled and shared a room with in Korea in February. Because the track and field season finished in May it's been ages since we sat down together to chat, though we did go to the park with our families in August and I gave her a lift, along with six other women to the missionary women's event in October. When sport isn't "in season" we have to make an effort to make time to spend together, not easy because we're both busy with our respective roles.

We're both in the same life-stage. We've got three boys each and our eldest sons graduated in June. They're both headed off early in the new year to the next stage of their lives. It's nice to have a friend who's in the same life-stage. Rare, in fact, for me. I've been reflecting recently that many of the friends I see most regularly have kids who are younger than mine (even if only by a couple of years).

One of the challenging things about being associated with an international school community is that most people leave the community (either for a ministry located in a different part of Japan or they leave Japan altogether) after their last child finishes school. Of course I've got no idea how long we're going to be here, but there is a strong chance that David will continue to teach at CAJ after our youngest finishes. 

That's going to be strange—to go back to being just a staff-wife. To have no one of my own to cheer on at sports meets. To have no other parents that I see as part of the school calendar. I'm sure there'll be plenty to fill the gaps, but it will certainly be a different stage of life. One that's only five and a half years away! Maintaining friendships will definitely have to be stepped up to a more intentional activity, like today's "let's do coffee soon" morning.

These last couple of weeks there has been some tension for me about wrestling. Our middle son has decided not to do wrestling, after saying he would (in May). That leaves us without a high school wrestler in our family this year. 

Does it sound strange to admit that I've found that hard to accept? I really wanted to be supporting our high school wrestlers again as a parent . . . but it would be odd to go to all the meets and duals and I can't really justify those long days if I don't have a wrestler in the team. Our youngest is in the middle school team, so I'll get to go to his meets. I still plan to go to some of the high school meets (especially the one at CAJ in December and probably the finals). But it's taking some time to accept that we don't have a high schooler in the team this year. Part of that, too, is that I'll miss the time in the stands with friends who do have wrestlers this year, like the lady I had coffee with this morning. I'm not happy about that, but can do nothing about it. It does make me feel sorry for people whose children aren't into sports. They miss out on a lot!

Our eldest is helping out the coach, so he's still at school working with the team till after 6pm most nights. David's helping out as a responsible adult/staff member too (the coach's second son was born last week, so David helped supervise training last week). So I guess they'll both be going to meets, while I sit at home quietly with our middle son?

Alas, do I have a wrestling withdrawal?

But it's more than wrestling that I'll miss, it's the friendships formed with other parents that call me.