Flora*, my 9yr old foster child, has a hard time telling the truth. Having met her mom last week, I understand why. Often the truth isn’t all that pretty. So why not dress it up? Why not?
It was a simple fact that only Elise* brought her bowl down from snack on Saturday. I was busy creating a website for my lasted endeavor (stay tuned for a big announcement). The kids got to eat popcorn while watching a movie in Flora’s room. Sunday I wanted to send them up there again but didn’t have enough bowls for snack.
Flora offered a detailed account of how she brought down her and her brother’s bowl. “Only Elise didn’t,” she concluded.
Prior to that my spiel began with pointing out only Elise had returned her bowl. Sometimes I’m forgetful, but this I knew for sure: I was short three bowls. Flora didn’t bring two down.
There are things I’ve let go. Flora insists that her mother once owned a bakery. Seems unlikely. In another conversation Flora began by saying her mother was born in Canada and ended insisting she was American, from the exact spot my daughter, Sloane*, was born. Pointing out the transition got me nowhere. Flora denied saying her mom was Canadian (which she in in case you’re wondering).
It’s hard to bring correction. Children who come into foster care usually have a well-established pattern of lying. It’s a survival tool. Since Flora and Marcus* are expected to return to their mother, I’m not winning them over to my way of thinking.
Their mother paints a beautiful picture of their life together. Maybe it’s true. I doubt it. But maybe.
Monday there was a good chance the judge would rule in mom’s favour. He didn’t. Another court date is set in 3 weeks. Flora and Marcus were picked up from school to attend their weekly visit. They were hoping to be taken home instead of to the office of Children’s Aid. I don’t know what was said to explain the situation.
A lady from church asked me to dog sit. The children came back to a tiny white dog who was very excited to see them. For the moment their disappointment is kept at bay. Once again the Lord has shown up in a wonderfully, unusual manner. A dog at just the right moment.
Bobbie, you never cease to amaze me. I enjoy each of your posts in your blog and learn something every time (either about myself or about you – that you are kind, caring, loving, understanding, compassionate, etc.) Me? Not so much – at least, I don’t think I could be as kind, caring, loving, understanding or compassionate – but mostly patient! Thank you for your example! Be blessed abundantly!
Awww, that had a good ending. 🙂
I love your approach! Praise God for a dog just in time! xo