Recipes for Living Sandra Smith

I was born in Des Moines to parents who seem to me to have been very young. My mother was 20, my father 21. I was the oldest and, in fact, the only child until I was freshman in college. I had a childhood that was fairly typical for small town (St. Charles), Iowa. I was very coddled and overprotected.

I graduated from high school in May, 1964, and left for college in September. My mother had gone back to work and that October the doctors diagnosed a problem she was having as a stomach tumor. She went in for surgery and it was discovered that the stomach tumor was my younger sister, Shelly. My first reaction was shock. As an 18-year old, I was so embarrassed that my parents were doing such things; but when Shelly was born in February, 1965, and I took her to college to show her off, she caused so much excitement! She became the golden child on campus. On New Years Eve of that year, Mother was in a terrible car accident. People in the front seat were killed and Mother was hospitalized for the month of January. She spent six monthsfrom January to June-in a body cast from her ribs to her toes. I had no option but to move home. We hired help to care for Mother and Shelly, which is good because I knew nothing at all about babies. I remember trying to change her diaper. She would crawl away and I'd go after her. She would cry and I would cry. I knew even less than that about feeding.

I finished that semester of college work at home and was home for the year of 1966. But when I started back, I decided college wasn't for me. I was not a good student, I liked having a good time, and I quit. I moved to Des Moines and went to work for an insurance company. What a depressing experience! I am not geared to routine and regimentation. I had a difficult time adapting to a rigid schedule that seemed to amount to going to work, having lunch, and then going back to work all over again. It took me ten years to recover from that.

The benefit of that experience was that I realized, if I was going to work, I needed an education, so I went back to college that fall. I chose social work for my major. That was simply not done in small town Iowa. Young girls became teachers or nurses. Social work was not the thing to do. However, my parents helped and I completed my courses in 1 1/2 years, in December, 1968.

My husband, Fred, and I had began dating in high school, when I was a sophomore and he a senior. After he graduated, he went all the way to the big city of Des Moines, took a job and then joined the Marine Corps. In 1966, he was sent to Vietnam. That was during the time when Mother was in bed. To help pass the time, she started writing letters and sending "care" packages to the fellows in the service. One of those was Fred. He wrote back, asked about me and where I was, so Mother sent him my address and he wrote to me.

The next year he came home and we became reacquainted after a seven-year lag since I'd last laid eyes on him. He had another year in the military, but he was discharged in 1968, and started to college that summer. I finished my last semester; and on June 7, 1969, we were married by Pastor Jim Louk, who was serving the St. Charles United Methodist Church.

We felt awfully old, being married at our age. All our friends were already married; in fact, half of my class married the summer after graduation. When I had gone back for my five year class reunion, there were only two of us who were unmarried-me and a nun. She later married a priest. I told Fred that I absolutely refused to go to another reunion unless I had children. We discovered I was about two weeks pregnant when I made that statement.

After I graduated, I took a job at the Department of Human Services, working with mothers on welfare, child abuse and neglect cases, alcohol and drug abuse-the whole gamut. I started in January of 1968, and two days later was called into the office. A mom had been taken to jail, leaving her five children, who had to be cared for. "We need you to go down to county jail and see what we need to do." To this day I can remember the sound of the jail doors closing behind me. St. Charles, Iowa and Simpson College, Indianola, had in no way prepared me for some of the situations I faced. Actually, some were beyond description.

That exposure undoubtedly acquainted me with the overpowering nature of an addiction to drugs and alcohol. People who are ruled by those forces allow their lives to be ruined, themselves to be victimized and/or their children taken away. Mothers sell their children to get drugs-I've seen it happen. Those who are addicted can't see anyone but themselves. Being under the influence becomes such a way of life that the individual becomes all important. Nothing else matters but to get the next "fix."

I never, ever, got used to it. I never got to the point where I was unaffected or could accept it or feel it was in any way "normal." When I had children of my own and knew first-hand the feelings of motherhood-the overwhelming love and bond-it was even more shocking to realize that there was something "out there" that was even stronger. I couldn't reconcile the two.

This is what happens in social work. It is not only burn-out but seeing how people can so totally separate themselves from God and from good. This may have been the part I couldn’t reconcile-that there was something so strong, so earthy, and yet it robbed people of values, relationships, and everything.

When our first son, Brad, was born, in 1974, I quit that job and was a mom for several years. In that same year, Mother was diagnosed with lymphoma tic cancer. She went through the chemo and radiation series and, in 1977, when Ryan was born, the cancer metastasized. Neither tests given in Iowa City nor Des Moines showed cancer on her brain but they decided to treat her as though they did and it left her a semi-invalid.

From that time, Mother was pretty incapable of parenting. Father tried but he also had the care of Mother. That meant that I could be a mom to Shelly all through her junior and senior high school years. I was buying bras and prom dresses and all those fun things. She went on all our vacations with us. We shared a lot, and are very close in our adult years.

Mother passed away 1984. I was surprised at my reaction. She was so sick for so long that I first had a sense of euphoria. It was a relief to know that she didn't have to struggle and be in pain. As a family we could regroup. There was time for me to be with my children and enjoy them.

Then, suddenly I was struck with depression. I was absolutely overwhelmed with the sense of loss and grief. I didn't really expect it. The mother I'd known years before had been gone for some time, but I had adjusted to that. Now it seemed as though I had a sense of losing two people, not just one.

But faith is such an incredible journey because, after mother died, I remember vividly thinking, "I want no one else in my life to take care of” I’d had Mother, Shelly, and my own children; and Ryan had been a hard child to raise. He was extremely hyper-active, always in trouble. He couldn't keep his attention focused on more than one thing at a time. He couldn't retain the directions we gave him. He had so much difficulty sleeping.

Ryan always had to know his limits and boundaries, and he had to have a lot of limits. For instance, neither Brad nor Sarah had to have a curfew. Ryan, on other hand, would never understand the concept of time and going home. But if we set the curfew at 12:30, he would come at 12:30-not 12:29 or 12:31. He had to be that structured. Whatever the occasion, as long as people were there, he'd stay if he had no directive to do otherwise. He had no fear of anything. One time his brother told him he could fly so he got up on the roof expecting to do that. He didn't understand the deep and shallow ends of the swimming pool. If we told him not to play in road, it meant nothing. He didn't distinguish between road, street, and sidewalk. The things you would assume kids would know, he didn't. We constantly had to think ahead of him.

It was not only frustrating but heartbreaking because he tried so hard and never could quite get it right. Every school year the teachers and psychologists would tell us something different-maybe allergies, maybe hearing loss. He certainly was not learning disabled. His IQ (intelligence quotient) tested at 140 and still he couldn't read. Maybe it was dyslexia. In junior high his learning difficulties were even more pronounced and, in frustration, he became angry.

Finally the school psychologist said, "Please go to somebody experienced." It was determined then that his problem was ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder), which is both psychological and neurological. Those so afflicted have an inability to sit still; they are always moving, always into things. Their minds work faster than the hand/eye coordination. At the time of diagnosis, the specialists recommended medication, to which we were totally opposed.

However, the older he got the more frustrated he became. In his high school years he couldn't keep track of assignments or schedules. The more he saw himself different, the more depressed and angry he grew until we finally concluded, “We have nothing to lose by trying medication. If it helps, wonderful; if it doesn't, we are right where we are now."

At age 14, Ryan began taking Ritalin and for him it was a miracle medicine. It did absolutely wonderful things. It allowed him to focus his mind, to have an attention span, to develop reasonably good sleep patterns. Now that he is a senior in college, he has chosen not to use it any longer but by this time he understands and accepts his condition with its limitations and works around them. Behavior modification helps him focus. He still has a short attention span and difficulty focusing attention, but all we need to say is, "Ryan, you need to focus. You are going two different directions." Now he understands, but didn't always. Maturity has done a lot.

He will do well in his chosen career as a police officer. He has a tremendous sense of compassion and empathy, and a strong sense of right and wrong. He still has to have boundaries and limitations. To this day he has difficulties but he has done well and has come a long ways. We're proud of what he's done.

In spite of my declaration that I had enough of being a care-giver, in 1986 God said, "There is a child out there who is yours. You have to find her. You have to find and adopt that child." I told Fred and he said, "Absolutely not! We have the typical American family-mother, father and two boys. Why would we disrupt that?" I conceded that if he resisted, I would forget it, but two or three days later he said, "Why don't you write for information, if that is what you really want to do and it is that important."

I contacted Holt International, and found out that the amount of paper work for adoption is incredible. We decided that we would just fill out the forms and not make any commitments. In only two days after we sent in the paper work, we had a call from Holt International, saying, 'We have a little girl eight-years-old in Thailand. Would you consider? You will have to travel to Thailand to get her." My response to this unexpected call was, "We would love to travel to Thailand! I know what a beautiful country it is." I called Fred and said, "They have little girl. The only problem is, I don't know where Thailand is or anything about it, but surely somebody can find it." Fred's answer was, “Well, I've been to Vietnam and I know it is in that direction. Surely somebody can help us locate it."

We had such wonderful motives that we were sure people in Thailand would see that and send the child right to us. Instead, it took 1 1/2 years to get our child out of the country. They were very suspicious of anyone who wanted to adopt an older female. She might be wanted for sexual exploitation or slavery. It required a lot of diplomacy on Holt's part to persuade the government to let her go.

We traveled in February, 1988. Jim and Elaine Schipper had traveled two weeks before us to get Tim. Sarah was terrified of us! She had spent her first seven years in a home for the retarded, after which they put her in a home for the handicapped. At the time we first saw her she was 9 1/2, angry and scared. She didn't know who we were or what we were about and we found no way to break through until we arrived back home. She bonded from the beginning with her brothers. However, she didn't know what a family was, she didn't speak the language and it was a very difficult time.

But we had a wonderful school system that worked with us and friends who supported us. This helped us through some times when she would be so angry, so bitter about circumstances that she would have horrendous tantrums, kicking and screaming. There was a time shortly after we arrived when she became very upset. She took all the clothes out of her closet, pulled out all her drawers and dumped them, snatched the bed clothing and even the mattress off her bed. In general, she tore up her room.

Fortunately, we have two sets of friends who had two daughters, Brooke and Kelly. They had been so excited about Sarah's arrival but hadn’t known how to touch her or get to know her. They happened to come to visit that night and found her, all spent, in tears, depressed and tired, in the corner of her room, sobbing. Brooke and Kelly walked in and, without saying a word, started putting everything back and Sarah started helping them. They put everything in its place, clothes on hangers, and helped her remake her bed. For 1 1/2 hours they were just three little girls putting Sarah's room back together. To this day the three of them have a bond that has never changed, never died. That seemed to be a turning point when Sarah started to realize she was here, part of our family, part of life here, and started to let go of Thailand. It has been a significant part of a 10-year process.

Sarah started 3rd grade at Interstate 35. They did things that were incredible. The day she came they had a big bulletin board in Principal's Office and on it had a flat picture of the world. Bangkok, Thailand was marked with a string that went to St. Charles. The children were told not to make sudden moves and not to yell, because that would startle her. They had studied about the Asian culture and how different it is than ours. They made it into a real learning experience for the whole class. I consider it so sad when I hear all the complaints about the cost of incorporating English as a Second Language into the school system. Think of the learning experience it can be. There is no learning to compare to having an opportunity for diversity.
There is no way to learn from a book what can be learned from dealing with people of other cultures.

Several years ago I realized that the time was coming when the kids would all be leaving home and I’d have to refocus my life. I had always worked part-time after they were in school. I had a position in a job training program for disadvantaged youth. It is a government program that kids under a certain income level can qualify for, working for non-profit agencies. I spent five years doing that and for ten years working for Children and Families of Iowa, which is an agency working with young people coming out of detention facilities. These were ones who had no family, no emotional or physical support system, and I taught them independent living skills. This included how to rent an apartment, apply for a job, provide for their own transportation, and to stay away from drugs, alcohol, and criminal behavior. When children became teenagers, it was difficult for me to distinguish between the typical teenagers and those bent on self-destruction.

I was asked to consider a part time job with Holt International. In that position I do home studies and post-placement reports for people who are adopting internationally. I do education programs for adopting parents and p.r. (public relations) for the company. I continued to evaluate my life. The natural thing might have been to pray for what to do next, but I am not good at prayer. God usually has to use a sledge hammer, not a feather, to get through to me. But one day my sister asked what I was going to do for the rest of life. Words I’d never thought about, never spoken, came out of my mouth, "Going into ministry." I don't know where that came from, but that's been my focus since that time.

Sarah is a college student at DMACC and will be in her second year this fall. Son Ryan will be a senior, majoring in criminology. Our older son, Brad, has received his Masters in Tax Accounting from the University of Denver, where he lives.

Shelly is married and lives in Denver. Her husband is a food broker, and they have three children, Mitchell, who is six, Abigail, three, and Emma, one. They are the light of my life. Shelly works two days a week as the art director for "Twin Magazine."

Fred is an auditor for an insurance company, a job he has had since he graduated from college. He has been my rock and my support. He allows me to do all the crazy and wild things, saying simply, "Whatever makes you happy, we'll work it out and get it done." I know, and he has proven over and over again, that when chips are down, he is always there for me.

I am now on the staff of the Osceola United Methodist church in Christian Education and Youth Ministry. I have always gravitated toward working with youth. When our children were young, I took responsibility for the UMYF (United Methodist Youth Fellowship) in St. Charles. I will never forget that experience. There were 13 junior high boys, no girls. It was a wild group, but I had them for 10 years, until Brad was old enough to join. I have never thought that parents should be leaders of a group of which their own children were being a part.

I love working with youth in preteen and teen years. It is such fun to watch their emotions, the self-discovery-finding out about themselves and who they are. I have always felt that the focus of any church should be to teach our children in the ways of God. I love the scripture in Proverbs 22:6: "Train children in the right way, and when they are old, they will not stray."

Childhood is a time of rapid growth and rapid learning. Pre-adolescence and teen years are filled with the excitement of self-discovery. My prayer would be that all churches would fill these years of wonder and learning with the glory of God.