On Being Known
Hellooooooooo! Long time no see. I’m emerging from my study cave to chat with you all and it’s a welcome excuse to give my brain a much-needed break. So, thanks for that. I have a big exam coming up in February for my Functional Medicine studies and all the time I spent Christmasing is kind of catching up with me. But here I am, so let’s get to it!
On Tuesday we had our semimonthly assistant meeting here on the ol’ Homestead and the discussion we had there has been rolling around in my head ever since. Masha leads the meetings and she is often bringing us back to our organization’s values of dignity, love, and hope. It’s impossible to talk about our values too much. They must be always present in our minds. We’re humans and it’s way too easy for us to veer away from them, so we talk about our values always.
Masha was presenting some scenarios to the team and asking them to look at them through the lens of our values and share which value was lacking in the scenario, and how we could do things differently. She asked us to put ourselves in the place of the boys and think of how we would feel in the situation. We talked about issues like modesty, personal privacy, the way we talk to the boys or the words that we choose to use. It was a good reminder to never allow ourselves to place ourselves on a level “higher” than the boys- to not just do things for them or to them, but to do things with them. Dignity always. Love always. Hope always. We can never talk about it enough. I know I fail every day so I reeeeeally need to constantly come back to our values.
As I’ve been mulling over that conversation I keep coming back to the idea of what it is to truly be known. It’s the longing of each of our hearts, to know and to be known. It’s the longing of our boys’ hearts, even if they can’t verbalize it. Of course it is! The longing to be truly known by others is part of what makes us human. We were created with the desire to be loved and known first of all by our Creator, and then second , by other humans. We long to be understood, for someone to truly “get” us. Our boys want to be understood and “got” just like the rest of us. And the more we as a team strive to deeply know our boys and understand them, the more dignity, hope, and love naturally flow from us.
In that meeting we recognized as a team that in our comfort with our boys we can sometimes lack love or dignity in the way we speak to them. And after years of living together we can get used to the boys the way they are and forget to hope that they could continue to grow and heal. It’s like with any family- the ones you love the most sometimes get the worst of you. And like with most families- your family members tend to be the least likely people to recognize changes in you or even allow changes in you. They see you through sibling or parent-tinted glasses that are very difficult to remove. Here on the Homestead we can also be guilty of wearing glasses that are tinted with the mundane. There is beauty in the closeness and familiarity of family. It’s beautiful how well we know our boys and how close we feel to them. But that closeness, while providing love and security, can also sometimes lack dignity or hope. The fight to keep our hearts right and to keep a beginner’s mind is real. But we are choosing to fight for it because our boys deserve all the dignity, love, and hope ever.
When we first took Boris out of the institution eight years ago he was full of emotion. Allllll the emotions were present and accounted for. He had moments of great joy, but also plenty of moments of frustration or maybe sadness. He was loud and expressive and over time we began to learn what his different sounds and expressions meant. Bmo doesn’t speak, so I can’t say with certainty how often we got it right or wrong, but we had beginner’s minds and tried to become as fluent in Bmo-Speak as possible. I’d like to think I’m fairly fluent at Bmo-Speak at this point; maybe even at Native Speaker level!

Bmo’s way of expressing himself and his emotions has ebbed and flowed over the years of life together. There have been periods of time when Bmo was the loudest person in the house, and then stretches of time when he didn’t make any sounds- happy or sad. We recently weaned Boris off of medication we had given him to prevent self-harm because the stretch of silence had gone on for too long. Bmo needed the medication when the war first started and we had to move as refugees to Germany. That whole experience broke Boris in a way, and it feels like he has never fully recovered. He lost many of his skills he had worked so hard to gain like toileting and dressing himself. He began to hit himself again and he was so emotionally disregulated that he would just run up and down the halls of the church screaming and unable to stop himself. For his own safety and security we began to medicate him again, but the trade off was that we lost a part of our precious Bmo. He retreated into himself and almost all of his positive communication went away. Our relationship devolved into him only wanting contact when he was asking for a need to be met and me meeting his needs. It didn’t appear that he was interested in any other kind of interaction. It was sad, disappointing, and honestly very exhausting. I think I lost hope that we would get our happy Boris back. I wondered if he was gone for good.

Then in December I decided to try weaning him off of his med. He seemed fairly stable, emotionally, and I decided to just give it a try. I don’t know, maybe God gave me a crazy moment of hope, or maybe I just got tired of the status of our relationship, but for whatever reason, I decided to give it a whirl.
The last month of Bmo being off meds has been a roller coaster for him and for the rest of us here on the Homestead. He started off being quite disregulated and screaming A LOT. I was out of town for a couple of weeks and the team began writing to me “Bmo is screaming all the time…what do we do??” He was quite unhappy, to put it mildly. But over the past week or so since I’ve been back I’ve seen glimpses of the old Bmo returning to us. He’s starting making his happy “beeping” Bmo sounds when I tuck him in at night. He’s making his loud, in your face, laugh/yell when he’s excited. He’s doing the Bmo “happy trill” when it’s time for his shower. Sigh, music to my ears. Sure, there is a heck of a lot of screaming in the mix as well, but I’ll take the screaming if it means I also get the beeps and the trills and the hums.
I know I can contribute much of the change in his disposition to him being off meds, but I also see how my attitude change plays into the mix. I’ve been asking the Lord to renew my love for Bmo. I’ve been asking for new hope, new patience, new tenderness. I need to see Boris with fresh eyes, to take off my exhausted-caregiver-tinted glasses and blink a few times. Bmo deserves a mom who allows him to change. He deserves to be “gotten” as he is now, not as he has been for the past almost 4 years, and I don’t want our closeness to lead to loss of dignity, love, or hope. I love Bmo deeply and he deserves to be known and loved by me as he is today.

Our Father in heaven never gives up on us. We fail over and over again, but he still chooses to use us to serve our boys. It’s seriously humbling. May God grant each of us the courage to seek to know others and to let ourselves be known by them. May we allow the ones we love space to grow and change without our judgement or family-tinted glasses, even if we feel hopeless. I think the journey of knowing will be worth it.






































