By Anne-Maree Choi
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February 1, 2024
I heard a story recently of a woman named Sarah*, who cared for an eleven-year-old child named Amy*, who was not her own for two years. Amy came into the home with enthusiasm, however, caring for Amy stretched Sarah almost to breaking point. Why? If this had occurred today, we would have applied the term ADHD or neurodivergent to Amy, which would have brought a truckload of understanding to Sarah. However, at the time, all Sarah knew was that Amy could barely remember to do anything she was told, often displayed hyper and disruptive behaviour, was easily distracted, and could hardly concentrate on anything put in front of her. In Sarah’s mind, she was just rebellious and difficult. Resentment began to build as the previously peaceful, happy home she managed was permeated with continual frustrated reprimands, breaking up fights between children, and monitoring activities painstakingly closely to make sure tasks were completed – it was exhausting. Sarah wanted to end the childcare arrangement with everything in her, but instead, cried out to friends for support, went to a counsellor to vent, researched parenting strategies, drew on her inner strength and prayed daily, put on her endurance hat, and did her very best to show unconditional love and support to this child. She felt like she failed miserably, time and time again. When the time came for Amy to leave, it was an understatement to say that Sarah was relieved, she was counting the days. However, one day everything changed. Amy came into Sarah’s bedroom and sat on the end of her bed, she was crying. “What’s the matter Amy?” Sarah tenderly asked. “I don’t want to leave” stated Amy tearfully. Sarah was surprised, ‘surely Amy has had enough of me’ she thought. “Why don’t you want to leave Amy?”. At twelve years of age, Amy spoke with a profound wisdom beyond her years “I know you love me because you make me eat breakfast every morning. I know you love me because you make me do my homework. I know you love me because you work to want the best for me…” She went on, but Sarah had stopped listening, her jaw dropped in amazement. She had honestly thought she had done nothing but make Amy feel like she wasn’t loved, it was now very obvious that the opposite had occurred. Sarah learned a big, perspective-changing lesson that day about what makes a child feel loved. She realised it was all about meeting basic needs and teaching basic disciplines, not giving up, showing kindness when it is undeserved, apologising when mistakes are made. It is about endurance, sacrifice, unconditional kindness, and being present – day in, day out. Somehow, all of those actions communicate love, despite the multitudes of frustrated commands, disciplinary actions, and reactive behaviours. What does love look like? I suspect it is quite different from what we think it is and it is probably different for every person. What is important to know from this story, is that we need each other to help us in our 'learning to love' journey, it is so important to draw on others when we struggle. It often does take endurance and we should never try to do it alone. Had Sarah not reached out for help, she would have given up, and missed the opportunity to show love in a real and powerful way. Warmest regards, Anne-Maree *Names have been changed in this story to protect privacy.