When we love people, we invite their brokenness and mess into our lives. Mess is inconvenient; it takes our time, energy, and sometimes money to make it better. Despite our efforts, the mess cannot always be fully contained. It spills over and touches the people who dare to stand near.

We lived in Colorado for six years prior to moving to Idaho. During those years I suffered from an autoimmune disorder that was a constant challenge. I had many medical appointments, took medication that made me feel a bit crazy, gave birth to two babies, was hospitalized with a blood clot, ruptured a disc (requiring surgery) during our daughter’s birth, had surgery again (with complications), and so much more. This all happened while Russ was adjusting to his first faculty position at a university. My life was messy.

My disorder finally went into remission and we moved to Idaho. Nobody here knew me as the woman who was “always sick” or “needed a lot of help.” I loved it. I was free from that old life and I had the rare chance to start over. Our life was good in so many ways – we had a new home, new church, and new friends. I enjoyed homeschooling my children and they were thriving. I had two flares of my blood disorder, one quite severe, but we made it through.

Then God called us to adopt our children –and life got messy again. Our children from “hard places” struggled and we struggled right along with them. We became needy and could not manage alone. I determined that if somebody asked if I needed help, I would always answer “Yes.” Many times I had the humbling experience of seeking help from my friends.

I’m not the friend I used to be. I rarely host guests for dinner, I almost never take a meal to somebody with a new baby, my house is no longer tidy, my children are not always well-behaved (and that is putting it mildly). In short, my life is messy.

God knows what we need. He knows what we can manage and what we can’t. Best of all, He never leaves us –never.

I yearn for a tidy life; it suits me. I feel comfortable with tidy. I want to be the woman who has it all together, who drops off muffins an hour after a new baby is born, whose children have beautifully braided hair and matching Easter dresses, who mails birthday cards on time and answers emails before they are weeks old. But that isn’t the life God has for me, at least not right now. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure I’ll ever see that life again, and my heart hurts thinking about it.

Yet, I want what God wants. I want to lay down my life to do the good work He has for me. Will this bring pain into my life? Yes, it already has. Is it worth it? Yes, and yes again. I have a front row seat to the healing power of God in my children and family. My life may not always be pretty, and sometimes I worry about the future. I miss the life I used to have, but when I think about Jesus, my heart is easier and my burden is lighter.

My life may be messy – but I pray that it is beautiful to the One who matters most.

Now I know as soon as I say this, some will think I am advocating that we should “feel sorry” for our kids or that we should be permissive and let misbehavior slide because of their history or where they came from.  Nothing, absolutely nothing, could be farther from the truth.  Compassion is not pity or even sympathy, and it never means that we allow what’s less than best for our kids to become good enough.  Instead, compassion involves empathy; but true compassion is so much more than just a feeling. 

We focused on this all-important subject of compassion in Chapter 2 of Created To Connect, where we talked about true compassion being essential for adoptive and foster parents to be all that God has called us to be in the lives and healing journeys of our kids.  True compassion is love in action, and it is beautifully illustrated in the kind of love that Paul describes as being the “greatest” in 1 Corinthians 13.  It is the kind of love I once heard described as “wanting what’s best for another and being committed to pursue it, no matter what the cost.”  Properly understood and rightly lived, there is nothing permissive or easy about this.  Compassion is hard – at times very hard – but I am discovering that it is always the answer.

For me as a mom having compassion for my kids means that I must be willing to ‘enter in’ to their world and meet them right where they are, even as I refuse to let them stay there.  Having compassion for my kids means that I must embrace all of them and honestly acknowledge their history, their pain and their challenges, while never allowing their past (or mine) to be an excuse for pursuing anything less than God’s best for our future together.  Having compassion means that I must continually look inward and honestly examine my own heart, even as I depend on God as the source of all healing and transformation.  Having compassion means I must lay down my pride, selfishness and self-centeredness, and die to myself daily as I give myself away time after time for as long as it takes.

As I read through the pages of scripture there is no escaping the abounding and relentless compassion of God.  I am loved by a forgiving and gracious God that is slow to anger, abounding in love and compassion.  So too must my parenting be informed, motivated, infused and overflowing with this same kind of compassion. 

I am encouraged that so many other moms are discovering this too – moms like Jen and Colleen.  As I ‘listen in’ on their thoughts and struggles, I know that I am not alone…but as hard as it is I am convinced we are headed in the right direction.  Don’t get me wrong, the learning, the understanding, the principles, the discipline strategies – those are all important aspects of being the parent that God has called me to be.  But I can only be a true reflection God’s love to my kids…I can only love and train them well if I answer every question, address every issue, overcome every challenge and meet every need with compassion.

Watch as Michael Monroe explains what it means for parents to give their children the gift of voice.

Take this morning for example. Mornings before school can be dicey in general, but for the most part we have our routine down and we’ve learned – parents and kids alike – how to make things run smoothly. Every once in a while, however, someone decides to mix things up. Maybe it’s because the kids went to bed late or one of them isn’t feeling well. Or maybe it’s for no reason at all, as was the case today. Whatever the reason, my kids need a father that can handle whatever they throw his way. I want to be that kind of father. Not some of the time; all of the time. But today I wasn’t. Today, I was the problem.

It started simply enough – Amy asked Grant (our 9 year old) to take his medicine. It happens every morning. It’s no big deal. But today he didn’t want to – and he made that clear. That happens. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. So I heard what was going on and decided to get involved to “help out.” But somewhere along the way I lost my focus…and then my perspective…and then my way.

In my response I wounded my son’s spirit and damaged our connection. In my attempt to stop disrespect, I was disrespectful. In my attempt to respond to a fear-driven response, I responded in a way that brought about more fear. In my attempt to thwart my son’s bid for control, I was controlling. In my attempt to stop the yelling, I raised my voice. Who am I kidding – I yelled. In my attempt to keep things moving forward, I caused us all (as the other kids watched on) to take a huge step backward.

There is no doubt my son was wrong, but that’s really not the point at all. My litany of wrongs didn’t make his wrong right. Instead, my behavior made everything worse. I was the problem today – and if I am honest, this wasn’t the first time and, sadly, it won’t be the last.

And I know I’m not alone. None other than the Apostle Paul had this very same problem – no, not as a parent, but my real issue is not limited merely to being a sorry father. My issue is that I am imperfect, woefully so at times, and I live in a world that is imperfect and made up other imperfect people. It is the age old problem of sin and the brokenness that sin has created.

Paul talked about this very plainly in his letter to the church in Rome: “I’m full of myself—after all, I’ve spent a long time in sin’s prison. What I don’t understand about myself is that I decide one way, but then I act another, doing things I absolutely despise. So if I can’t be trusted to figure out what is best for myself and then do it, it becomes obvious that God’s command is necessary. But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can’t keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help! I realize that I don’t have what it takes. I can will it, but I can’t do it. I decide to do good, but I don’t really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don’t result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time. It happens so regularly that it’s predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God’s commands, but it’s pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge. I’ve tried everything and nothing helps. I’m at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn’t that the real question?” (Romans 7:14-25, The Message).

But Paul was not without hope – and neither am I. He continues, “The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different. With the arrival of Jesus, the Messiah, that fateful dilemma is resolved. Those who enter into Christ’s being-here-for-us no longer have to live under a continuous, low-lying black cloud. A new power is in operation. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air, freeing you from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death.” (Romans 8:1-2, The Message).

The hope of this truth is that by God’s Spirit I can be empowered to become the kind of father that I long to be…the kind of father my kids need me to be. Because of what Christ has done and is doing, I have access to the source of strength and power that can equip and enable me to handle this and every situation in a way that shows love, builds connection and leads my children in the way of the Master. So this is the hope that I find comfort in today, even as I wrestle with the guilt and shame that rolls over me like waves.

Once we both calmed down, Grant and I were able to begin to repair our connection before he left for school. And frankly, I cannot wait to get home today to continue that healing process. I think maybe we will take a walk after baseball practice and I will explain to him (again) that I love him deeply, even though I make mistakes and don’t always show it like I should. I think I will ask him again to forgive me for each offense – my anger, my yelling, my frustration and disrespect – and ask him if we can start over. And I know what he’ll say. After all, we have lots of experience with second chances and trying again in our family.

For further insights watch The Importance of Repairing Your Mistakes.

Watch as Dr. Karyn Purvis explains why it is important for parents to repair their mistakes, and how repair can actually encourage growth and strengthen the relationship between parent and child.

Watch as Dr. Karyn Purvis encourages parents to ‘count the cost’ as they engage the adoption and foster care journey in a way that leads to true hope and healing.

Click here for more Empowered To Connect resources that focus on helping parents ‘count the cost’ of the adoption and foster care journey.

I need to stop.

This is the crucial moment when I need to stop the “mad cycle” and see it for what it really is.

She is sad.

Sadness has woven its way into her life in ways you and I can hardly imagine. Imagine her in an orphanage as a small child feeling sad; there is no mommy to say, “Honey, come sit with me. Let me hold you.” No, when she was sad, she learned that it felt much better to be mad. Mad felt good, sad felt overwhelming and unending.

She lived where there were few adults to carefully watch over her and guide her through her feelings, so she protected herself by being mad. How did she cope? She turned away from the adults and became bossy toward the other children. She felt some relief from the sorrow that had been building up in her heart. She was in control once again; nobody could hurt her.

She kept account of wrong doings, slights, and disappointments, which she carefully filed in her mind. She could hold a grudge like nobody’s business. Stories of days of refusing to speak to a certain teacher or nanny were told to us. Refusal to eat, work, or make eye contact were not uncommon for her.

Then she joined our family and we saw a child who was easily angered, tried to control the other children, and was stubborn beyond reason. And disrespect? We weren’t sure she even knew she was supposed to respect us because she sure didn’t act like it.

When I remember where she has come from, I can see past her “mad” to the real “sad.” I can hold myself in a nurturing mode and keep building those bonds of attachment. I can speak the truth to her: “Honey, you look angry, but I can see that your heart is actually feeling sad.” This is often all it takes to break through the mad.

Recently we had a moment just like this. I talked frankly with her about my love for her, the love of Jesus, and His power to heal her sadness. I encouraged her to let go of her “mad,” even if it meant feeling those deep sad feelings. She turned her eyes from me and I waited. It wasn’t long before she said, “Mommy, I’m sorry. Please forgive me for being so naughty. I know you love me. I’m just sad that my Mom died and you never had your Mom die so you don’t know how bad it feels.”

Her “mad” turned to “sad” –- we’re making progress.

I had spent the better part of an entire week using her strategies of “connecting while correcting” with all four of my kids. They were all out of school for the summer, and looking back I must have been crazy to try this when they were home all day. By the end of that week I was literally exhausted — physically and emotionally. I never imagined that this “connecting while correcting” would take so much time and energy. Threatening to put my kids in “time out” or taking something away was so much easier than this.

So when I called Dr. Purvis I pretty much told her that she was crazy and that this approach of hers would never work for us. I know what you are thinking — who am I to tell the expert that her methods didn’t work? Pretty bold, huh? But she was very gracious and reminded me about the part of the book that talked about this thing called “investment parenting.” She also reminded me that she never promised this would be easy or that it was a magic formula that would work overnight. She reiterated that it would take time and there were no shortcuts — at least none worth taking. Most importantly, she emphasized that it would take both Michael and me being ruthlessly consistent in applying this approach. So with that encouragement I went back to “practicing” again.

It’s funny sometimes that parents forget how important practice is, especially when it comes to using parenting strategies that focus on connecting even while we are correcting. How many times as children did we hear our parents remind us that “practice makes perfect”? And how many times have we said the same thing to our children. But for some reason, as parents we forget this. While we are quick to remind our kids to practice their soccer or baseball, piano or dance, math facts or spelling words, we rarely apply the same discipline when it comes to us “practicing” our parenting.

Three years after I called Dr. Purvis to let her know she was crazy, I am still at it, daily practicing how to connect with my kids in every situation, especially those that call for correction as well. Oh, I still get it wrong plenty of times, and sometimes I even have to say “I’m sorry” (something that doesn’t come easy for me as a mom, but that’s another subject for another day). I guess practice doesn’t actually make perfect after all, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t important.

As I have continued to practice over these last few years I have seen remarkable changes in my kids and their behaviors, and in me as well. My kids and I are much more connected than before, and what I was certain would never work is changing our family for the better.

Amy Monroe writes a regular column – A Mother’s Heart – on the Tapestry blog, where this article originally appeared.

Watch as Amy Monroe explains the importance of practice for both parents and children.

Read Parenting Take Practice to learn more about Amy’s experience in learning the importance of practice in parenting.