Why I Am Not A Saint - By Kari

This was a blog post written by the friend (Kari) of a friend (Claudia). She and her husband have also adopted kids with special needs and they deal with lots of different issues like do. I completely identified with her post today, except I don't give people the bird and we don't deal with PANDA's - but you get the idea. I thought I'd share it. So thanks Kari! 'Cause I'm not a saint either :)

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A handful of reasons why I am not a saint



I was already on the verge of tears yesterday when a woman approached me. She was concerned that one of our children hadn't been coming as regularly to the place where she usually sees our family.


I told her that we just had another strep infection and that Java and Bean have psychiatric reactions to strep. She looked puzzled so I said, "It's called PANDAS- Pediatric Autoimmune Neuropsychiatric Disorders Associated with Streptococcal Infections. It's really difficult when we have that on top of their FASD."


That's when she said it.


"You're a saint."


The tears were about to spill out and the last thing I wanted to do was cry. I replied, "No. Right now I just feel like we're going crazy."

I wanted to tell her that I felt like some days we were barely holding it together and that I fall apart pretty regularly, but I stopped myself. I'm glad I did because I could already see that I was making her uncomfortable.


"Well, I won't keep you..." and she was gone.


Nobody wants to hang around to watch a saint lose it. And I know those words are meant only in a complimentary spirit of loving kindness, but every time I hear them I cringe. I'll give you a handful of reasons why...
Let's do this David Letterman style and start with #5. On the hand above this is the little finger so it is appropriate that it represent the little ones, my children. I know the intent behind the statement is kind and loving, but what do those words say about my children? That only a saint could be their mother?! My children are people, not their disability, and are unique, created individuals who are just as worthy of love and a family as any other child.


Next we have the ring finger, #4. This finger symbolizes commitment. We committed to these kids and it isn't always easy but that's not what we were promised. Christians are told that true religion is about caring for the widows and the orphans but somehow we got the idea that widows are sweet little old ladies and orphans are children who respond gratefully when we feed and clothe them. Caring for them should feel good and be rewarding. It is exhausting to pour energy and love into people when the response and results are often not what we had hoped for. Calling me a saint takes away my right to get pissed about the fact that this life is hard and to admit that some days I want to turn and run in the other direction.


Next we have my favorite finger. The middle one. Do saints regularly flip the bird? Certainly not. But I do. I did it here and here and here ...and those are just some of the times that I wrote about it. Thanks to FASD and PANDAS, that finger gets more exercise than any other part of my body. I get angry and I'm not all saintly and forgiving about it all. I accept my children and I do not blame their birthmom, but I hate FASD. Ditto for PANDAS.

#2- The pointer finger is all about instructing a person in what they should do, showing which direction they should go, and pointing and judging if they are weak or if they fall. Saints are supposed to do saintly things in a saintly way. Saints do the things that the rest of us want to feel we are not necessarily called to do. I don't believe it works that way. I am not suggesting that everyone should adopt, because I honestly do not believe that, but I do believe we are all called to do the work of saints in the lives of people who are struggling. Because we all struggle sometimes.


#1- Thumbs up. Saints aren't supposed to get anxious or depressed. They're supposed to have perseverance and an unshakable faith. So NOT me. I barely have enough strength to hold on to the life preserver these days. Thankfully I have a powerful God who has surrounded me with people who hold on to me when I am not strong enough.


I have to close by saying that in one sense I truly am a saint and I know that. It isn't because of anything I've done but is purely through the redemptive work of my savior on the cross. The next time I hear "You're a saint" I might answer, "And so are you! Thanks be to God!" Maybe then those words wouldn't bother me so much.
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Here's the link to the actual blog if you want to check it out:
coffee catharsis
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