May I Have this Dance?

Dear Mia,

It's been a great day. I'm not saying they all haven't been great, because they have been, but as in all things, some days are better than others. To put it simply: it isn't always easy learning how to live with another person. 

When I do premarital counseling, I will occasionally talk about toothpaste caps and toilet seats. Not that those two things have a whole lot of anything to do with anything, but when you have lived your whole life doing something one way, and someone else comes along and needs you to do it another way, we can find ourselves stepping on others toes. Mommy and I have experienced some of that with you this week. You have three years of life experience mommy and I cannot comprehend; and honestly, some of that is probably a good thing. Now don't misunderstand me, your past is critically important to us, but we know there are some hard parts to it and now we have an opportunity to learn all new rhythms. Together. 

Take for example, language. When your brother was your age, we had certain expectations for how he was to communicate with us. The challenge for you is up until the last six days, you have only known Chinese. I cannot imagine how tough it must have been in the grocery store today when I was talking to you in English, but all around you heard words, sounds, and phrases that were so much more familiar. And comfortable. I cannot blame you for getting a bit out of sorts and "not using your words" since you have just begun to hear them. And wanting to grab things of the shelves. And wanting to yell at me when I wouldn't let you. And then yelling at everyone else to let them know that I wouldn't let you. That was a real powerful moment in our learning the rhythm for how to live together. 

For years, I knew that human beings have what we call the "fight or flight" mechanism. That instinct is something over which we have practically no control. What it tells us is when we are confronted with a stressful stimulus, we will either fight back or fly away from it. When your brother would meltdown on us in a store, I would fight it, to let him know we would not tolerate that kind of behavior. And it worked, because he is a model patron these days. 

While training for your adoption, I learned something new that can be particularly true for children that come from hard places. Instead of just fight or flight, there is also the propensity to "freeze." And all of a sudden, so much more makes sense. I have observed you "freezing" when you hear an unfamiliar noise. I have observed you freezing when touching an unfamiliar surface. I have observed you freezing in large crowds. That's what made the situation in the grocery store today so much more peculiar. You didn't freeze. You didn't try to run away or hide in my shoulder. You wanted to fight. And you wanted to fight hard. And you were determined to win. 

Your "fight, flight, or freeze" mechanism then triggered mine. What were we going to do? Have it out in the middle of the Aeon Grocery store? Were we going to see who could yell the loudest? Or hit the hardest? Or pull the most stock from the shelves? I'm pretty sure with my advantages in size, strength, and stamina, I could win that battle. But Mia, it was not one I wanted to fight. Especially not with you. Not this soon. Not now while we're trying to learn each other's rhythms. But you could not win it either. Was it an impasse? I think not. So what were we to do? 

Dance. 

That's right, we danced. A waltz to be exact. I sang the theme from Disney's "Sleeping Beauty" loudly enough for people right around us to hear me sing, and we waltzed. We waltzed up one aisle and down another. We bobbed and weaved amongst the crowd of people saying things I'm probably pretty glad I could not understand. People were staring, but you were laughing. And not just any old laugh, but a joy-filled cackle with a grin from ear to ear. In that moment in time, the world just kept on spinning while the two of us danced and I sang to you. What started as a battle of wills became a memory I will never forget. Ever. 

Our fight was finished before it really even began. Some might see it as a draw, but clearly it was a win-win-win. Aeon Grocery remained in tact. You did, too, as a matter of fact. You weren't able to go on the Incredible Hulk-like rampage you imagined, but you found peace in a moment spinning around with your daddy. Sure, I lost a little bit of dignity in a culture that places an extremely high value on it, but we emerged from the store with both of our hearts in tact, so to me, that is victory. And considering the rhythms we are both fighting to establish, I am overjoyed to be known as that crazy American who danced through the aisles of the busy grocery store with his daughter...a title without modifiers or qualifiers. 

There is a story in the Bible that I love. King David won a victory and recovered the Ark of the Covenant, and when they returned to town, a giant party was thrown. There were people everywhere. The sights, the sounds, the whole experience must have been chaotically beautiful. To celebrate and worship God, David danced. And he danced. And he danced. He danced so hard his clothes fell off, and he was told it was undignified for a king to behave that way in front of the people. What I love, though, is David's response: in the aftermath of the battle, if celebrating with and for God in such a way made him undignified, he would get even more undignified. That is how important the battle and the gift of God's presence was to him. Though my Mickey Mouse shirt remain firmly affixed, I think I know a little bit about how David felt. 

You are an amazing gift, Mia, an amazing one. And as we learn new rhythms in our family, I am sure there will be times when we will have to decide how we will proceed. Will we duke it out? Will one of us run away? Or will we stand there eye-to-eye and wonder (similarly to how we have a couple times already) what to do next? There will undoubtedly be other people around. I am sure those times might get a bit noisy, too. But there is one thing I hope you will never forget: even though I am not a great dancer, I am willing to look quite undignified in my quest to find our rhythm as we learn to live together. Now and forever. 

Navigating the ups and downs of life. 

Weaving through the crowds of curious and condescending onlookers.

And dancing the whole way through, thanks to the gift and presence of God that you represent in my life. 

So next time we have one of those moments — and who knows, it might happen as soon as this blog is posted — may we both remember five simple words...

May I have this dance?

Love, 

Dad