My Mess

My life is messy.  And by messy, I mean really messy.  

Before the mess I had two pretty normal teenage kids and comfortable, quiet house.  My husband and I could go out for a lunch or a dinner and be alone anytime we wanted.   We were in a good place.  Life was predictable.  I could go to lunch with my friends.  Have a pedicure now and then.  Exercise by myself every morning.  And I gave it all up and invited mess into my life.

In the past 6 months, the police have been to my house 4 times because a child ran away.  I have had to leave a public place more than once because a child was about to have a meltdown.  I have counted to 100 over and over to remain calm.  I have held a child sobbing the words “Why is this my life?  What did I do to deserve this?”.  And I had no answer.  I have had things thrown at me.  I have been snotted on, cried on, spit on held on, and hugged on.  I have sat with a child in a Bible class when none of the other children would sit next to her.  I have read stories, said prayers, answered hard questions and probably did it all wrong.  I have been exhausted emotionally, physically, and lost the ability to string words together.  

 I have questioned over and over again if this is really where God wants me.  Because this is messy.  I am not good at it.  I feel inadequate. 

 And that is where God meets me.  That is when a calm I have never had finds me.  I realize I am not enough but God is.  Somehow words inexplicably come and I have no idea where from.  And answers to the tough questions show up from nowhere.

Parenting is a tough job—ask any parent.  Parenting a child that has lost the ability to trust, has been hurt beyond what you can imagine, has gone days without food, has fought to maintain a human dignity because everything has been stolen from them is a special kind of tough.  Parenting that child is messy.  

But that makes the rewards so much more significant.  The little things.  She called me mom. He climbs in my husband’s lap and asks him to read a book.  A spontaneous hug.  Whispered words of hope—making a plan for tomorrow or even beyond tomorrow because a sense of a future is creeping in.  

The heartbreaks are real.  But the healing is profound.  The doubt is overwhelming.  But the steps towards trust are exciting.  Parenting a hurt child is messy.  But God can take a mess and turn it into a beautiful life.  And as a foster parent, you get to be the tool God uses to redeem His child.  Jesus specializes in cleaning up messes.  And he can use you to do it.

 

‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’  Matthew 25:40

She called me Mom today

She called me mom today.  I know it slipped out—we were all playing in the pool and in the middle of the games, she yelled “Let’s get Mom!”.  And a few minutes later, it came out again—“Momma”.  I know that our relationship is new and she has had many moms in her world.  And Aunts.   And Dads.  She tried to count the foster homes and the relative’s homes and places her mom took her to hide from her dad.  The list was long and her memories are at times intense and then the next second vague—flashes of a good memory and a sparkle in her eyes, then in an instant the happy thought is chased away by a bad memory that floods in.

It is hard to be around sad children.  Especially sad children that really have a reason to be sad.  Not the sadness that comes from going through the tough lessons of life like being grounded, a friend moving, or getting a bad grade.  I am talking about a deep sadness that comes from places most of us have never gone to and never will.  Abuse.  Parents that walk away.  Losing your siblings.  Trying to hide bruises and scars.  Kids that are living some horrible version of PTSD where there are no safe places…….

But she called me mom today.  That doesn’t mean that sadness is gone or that I am her mom or that her world is perfect now.  It may mean nothing at all.  But I choose hope.  I believe that her calling me mom might mean that she feels safe. It might mean that there is a kernel of trust growing between us.  It might mean that she feels hope.  And for me, that is an answered prayer.  I have prayed that she would feel like she was a part of our family.  That she would feel safe.  That she would feel wanted.  That she would feel loved.  And one day she would call us both Mom and Dad and mean it…….

Separated.......

Why do people always leave me? Don't leave me! It’s unfair!  Why is this my life? I promise I will call you when I know where you are and I won’t forget about you!  It will be okay.  It has to be.

This afternoon I watched a sibling group—or at least the remaining 3 of 5 siblings say good bye to each other.  Separated. Two went to one home.  And one went to another.  The other two have been gone for some time.   They were chosen to be adopted but the remaining 3 at least had each other.  But not now.  Moved again.  New homes.  New parents.  New rules.  New schools.  Where will I wake up?  When will I be fed next?  Who will I be with tomorrow and the next day and the next?  I could see the questions in their eyes and holes in their hearts.

In my mind I could hear myself shouting—it should not be like this.  This is wrong.  Parents should never go away.  Kids should never have to be dragged away from their siblings because there is not a home that can take all of them.  I have spent a lifetime oblivious to the grossly unfair plight of children that don’t have a person to call mom or dad.  But now I know.  I have seen it.  I am living it.  And it feels like I anything that we try to do is as effective as child super hero band aid attempting to cover a jagged, gaping, mortal wound.  We can never do enough.  We cannot help them all and my heart aches at the injustice of it all.  There are too many children.  

Listening to these children sob their good-byes to each other changed me today.  It is not fair.  Why do some children enter this world to a roomful of welcoming arms-family ready to cheer every milestone and dote one each smile, roll over, and first steps?  And why does another child face 6 new schools in one year only to find they have failed a grade again.  Why do some kids have a patient parent sitting vigilantly through an evening of homework and another child across town can’t begin to think about homework because the hunger pains in their belly and the yelling from the room next door blur the letters and numbers on crinkled papers?

My comfortable life excuses are being drowned by the words sobbed by 3 crying children.  I have no defense.  My ungratefulness, ignorance, and blinders must go away.  Love needs to win.  Compassion needs to triumph.  God can take these stories of hopelessness and rewrite them—He doesn’t need my help to do it because He can do what He wants.  But I am raising my hand.  I volunteer.  I want to be in the story.  I want to watch God redeem His children.  I don’t know where this ship is sailing to or whether it will be smooth sailing or stormy seas. But I am on the deck with faith in my pocket and hope in my hand and the quiet echoes of a child asking why me…….

"Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless."  Isaiah 1:17

True Life

I have sat down and started to write a blog almost 100 times in the last few months.  But I have not finished a single one.  Part of it is getting my thoughts together is tough.  Some of it is what I have to say—what I want to shout from the roof tops—is not only my story—it involves others and they have a right to decide how and when their story is shared.

So I will try and express this and be as vague as I need to and really convey my feeling. 

Fostering and adopting is never a destination but a long and windy journey.  And it always starts with hurt.  A separation.  A cutting of ties.  A breaking of bonds.  Something not turning out the way it was supposed to.  And the journey attempts to heal ugly wounds, replace frayed ties, forge new bonds, and build sturdy trusts.  Sometimes a sweet baby is placed into the arms of loving parents that have like Hannah, prayed and yearned for this child and that is so beautiful, perfect, and they are loved the moment they are placed in arms that could already feel the curve and sighs of it's body!  A courageous gift from a birth family—that never ‘gave up’ their child but chose to place a precious little person in the arms of someone who could love and take care of them in a different way and most of the times better way than they could…..

My experience has always been with an older children.  Their stories are all different—where they came from, how they came to me, and the circumstances that have brought them there.  They have a history and figuring it out is like peeling back the layers of an onion.  The day I fix chicken and dumplings and all of the sudden my teen is angry—and I cant figure out why and after an evening of arguing and frustration, I find out through tears and yells that chicken and dumplings trigger a memory of a very dark time in their short little lives.  Or the fun hike we all want to enjoy as a family turns into a disaster because there was a hike long before our shared history and on that hike, my child was left in a cold dark, scary, place overnight and the fear of that happening again won’t go away.  These are just a few examples of the pitfalls, blind corners, and frustrations we have encountered.

But what I really want to share with you is what it is like to see a child heal before your eyes.  I want you to sneak a peek at the moments when we as a family get to introduce a young person to the Creator of the world—and they realize His love for them, His dreams for them, and that their story doesn’t have to end the way it started.  That moment when you give them a key to your house, write their name on your mailbox and they realize they are more than just a guest but they have a place that is home.  When they realize that maybe I can get good grades, I can go to college, and I always have a home to come back to.  No matter what.

What I want people to know is becoming a foster parent is hard.  The classes are long and boring, the scrutiny of your family is invasive, the paperwork is burdensome, and the constant parade of caseworkers, CASA’s, inspectors, and supervisors that invade your home and time is frustrating.  It takes months to get through your home study. 

And some of the people around you not helpful.  They say things thinking you need advice—Like: ‘You know, you could have an empty nest right now and start having fun…’ or  ‘Aren’t you getting too old for more kids?’ or  ‘Maybe you should just downsize your house instead of filling your bedrooms!’ or ‘Being a foster parent is messy!’  or ‘Why would you choose to bring a teenager in your life?’ or ‘You can’t save them all you know!’.  And they are right, I can’t have an impact on all the children on this planet that want or need a family or a home.  But I can for just one.  Maybe two.  Maybe more.  And if I don’t, who will?   

God knew that there would be orphans, fatherless, and hurting people on this planet.  And He does have a plan for them.  It starts with one child at a time and those of us called Christians are the tools He designed to care for His children.  I can guarantee you it will be messy.  It will hurt.  You may lose somethings you value.  You can’t save them all.  But maybe, just maybe, you can save one.  And you will see eyes that were cloudy and hurt begin to brighten, their shoulders lift higher—you might just witness a miracle. I know I have.  Yes, it is hard and it is messy and most days I am not very good at this--but that is where God steps in, fills the gaps, portions out patience, and gives you words and actions that you have no idea how or where they came from.  He does the work if you step into the messiness. It is a long journey and the valleys are deep but mountain tops are amazing.  How much we make, how big our house is, what car we drive will all turn to dust and be worthless one day.  

There is only one thing we will all leave this earth with and that is the impact we had on others.  

Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share.  In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life.  1 Timothy 6:18-19