Category Archives: Christian

Staying Put for the Time Being

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Fostering with the local Children’s Aid Society hasn’t been all that advantageous. Since beginning in July I’ve had two placements, each lasting 6 weeks. This means I’ve been empty for 11 weeks. That’s a long time. I thought my age range, 0-8yrs, and being able to take up to three children would keep me busy. It’s not.

All this “vacation time” (since fostering is my only official job at the moment), has revealed something to me. I love parenting. As challenging as it is, I love the long haul. The triage of kids coming for 6 weeks isn’t where I do my best work. When they leave I feel like we’ve both wasted a lot of time. I try to impart to them, but with visits – sometimes three a week – with birth family it’s hard to connect. Of course I understand the importance of birth family involvement and all of that. Please don’t misunderstand me. It’s just, these short stints feel more like childcare than parenting. At this point, I’m not much of a childcare provider (I don’t even volunteer for kids’ church anymore). But I’m a really good parent.

Lamenting to a friend and fellow foster parent with the same Children’s Aid, I couldn’t really remember why I made the switch. The private agency I fostered for had some significant structural flaws. I was no longer proud to be a part of the organization. But all this time without foster children has me glamorizing for the good old days when I was a treatment foster parent. Most of those kids stayed as long as you wanted them to, which wasn’t always advantageous.

I know the Lord wanted me to switch. But I don’t know why or for how long. There have been times I’ve done exactly as He says without apparent success. This past week, I was ready to admit defeat. I want to foster. With the local Children’s Aid, that’s not something I’m able to do on a regular basis. So I gave the Lord one week. “If I don’t get a call by 5pm on Friday, February 7 I’m contacting my previous agency and begging to return.” It went without saying that call needed to be about an appropriate placement.

Thursday, February 6 I got a call from a social worker I’ve gotten to know (she did the training when I was applying to adopt a few years ago). “I don’t know if you’d be interested in this,” she began very tentatively. She’s the one who called me about Joseph* (see Love is Important). I couldn’t imagine anything more challenging. “We need a home for a girl, about to be 9, and a 7 year old boy.” A few more particulars were shared before she asked, “Should I go on or is it already a no?”

The siblings had been at another foster home for a week already. The issues – lying, possible intellectual delay, and incontinence – were more than the foster parents could manage. It’s not what I wanted. I was still hoping for a baby. But I said yes.

They arrived Friday. Thus far it’s been blissful. The little girl has been taking care of her brother for a long time. It’s hard for her to let me be in charge – even of my own kids. That’s been our biggest challenge. They’re sweet children, teachable and eager to please. They’re getting along well with Sloane* and Elise*.

So here we are. Once again four children are sleeping peacefully under my roof. Seems I’m staying put for the time being.

*name changed

Blessed

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Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished. Luke 1:45

believe

Years ago in the Christmas season this verse came to me. I’d read it countless times. But that year it dove deep into my heart. I was struggling to believe. Days later at work, I picked up the phone to find a woman on the other end asking if I’d like to adopt a foster child in her care. Why she ended up calling me remains a mystery. She was looking for someone else in the office but mentioned my name to the receptionist. At that point, not too many people knew about my dream to adopt. Of course the Lord was aware. He’s the one who spoke the idea into existence (see Adoption). That call came to nothing for me or the other married couple seeking a child. But it did remind me that the Lord would accomplish all He said. That year I made cards for everyone in my office featuring this verse. A few years later I tattooed believe my right arm, an ever present reminder as I continued to wait.

tattoo on right arm as a reminder to believe

tattoo on right arm as a reminder to believe

This year the wait is over. At the end of January 2013, Sloane* and Elise* legally became my daughters. The long anticipated dream of adopting came to pass. It’s been a roller coaster of emotion and experience. After some amazing prayer for Sloane a few weeks ago, I feel like we’re finally on stable ground. Today she made up a song about two babies who grew in one mom’s stomach. Because that mom couldn’t take care of them, those babies came to a new mom who adopted them. “And it’s good!” she exclaimed.

I often think of Mary, blessed with the words of Luke 1:45. Did she know everything that would transpire? As she and Joseph set out for Bethlehem, did she understand the Scriptures naming this as the Messiah’s birthplace? Or did she see it as a horrible detour? Were there moments in the journey when she struggled to believe? In my own journey there have been many times doubt crept in. Despite the tattoo, many gifts from friends with the word believe, and naming my company Believe bistro (www.believebistro.com) there have been times I’ve struggled to believe.

Long ago, in the midst of waiting, I came across the Christmas musical “Child of the Promise”. So often I sang along with the words written for Elizabeth, “it must be God when the dream never dies.” With all the trials, disappointments, and discouragement my dream never died. I continued to believe.

This year, I’m moved by the song written for Joseph. “The way I thought that it would be is that God would make our pathway smooth. Our steps together would be easy. I wanted that for you. The way I thought that it would be is God would take all pain away, our lives would happen perfectly. I wanted that for you. I wanted all that for you.”

There’s so much I want for my daughters. I have these perfect ideals. Still their past is something I can’t change. Both were born addicted to pain killers. They spent weeks in the hospital being weaned off those drugs. In praying for Sloane a few weeks ago, the Lord showed me a picture of her newly born in the hospital. He whispered to her, “It’s ok. I have a new mom waiting for you.” Somehow, through prayer, the Lord has eased the distress Sloane’s been living in. For the first time in her short life, she’s at peace. Her song is absolutely beautiful.

The Lord accomplished what He said to me. He’s given me, as a single woman, two children through adoption. I’m living in the blessing of believing.

This Christmas our family of three will be together on our own. It looks like our foster child, Joseph (see Love is Important) will be with his father. I’m rejoicing in the blessings afforded to me because of my tenacity to believe. The Lord has accomplished what He said. I know God will continue to bring beauty for ashes. I continue to believe. I am blessed. My children are blessed.

*name changed

photo courtesy of RAD Photography - Rebekah Dalgleish

photo courtesy of RAD Photography – Rebekah Dalgleish

Love is Important

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One of the reasons I left the private agency I was fostering for was the hope of easier children. Some days Sloane* is fun enough for this single mom. It was nearly three weeks before I got a call after the boys left (see From 2 to 4 and The End). A message was left while I picked Elise* up from school. By the time I called back the 3yr old boy had been placed elsewhere. “Just as well,” I thought, still hoping for a tiny baby before Christmas.

The next day the same worker called to say, “It’s not going to work where we put him. Would you still be interested?” The initial report was: his speech is delayed and he’s not toilet trained. The current foster mom complained he hadn’t slept that first night, refused to talk though is able to, and won’t keep his clothes on. It was his first night in a strange home, so I wasn’t too put off. I said yes. Later another call came to say he may be mildly autistic. Still I said yes.

Joseph* arrived Friday afternoon. If it’s autism he has, it’s certainly not mild. He’s happy, engaging, and affectionate. But seems to be in disconnected from the world. Communication is limited to single words repeated, sometimes connected to what’s going on or in his hand.

Sloane, who doesn’t get along with anyone, instantly fell for him. At dinner the first night, she said, “Love is important. And I love Joseph.” Three days in, her love continues to expand. She speaks kindly and quietly to him (a miracle in and of itself) and is consistently eager to help him. Elise isn’t feeling quite as warmly towards our new arrival. Mostly she stares asking, “What are you doing?” His actions confound her because they lack any logical sequence or explanation. Joseph responds to her with a smile.

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fast asleep with a teddy bear – one of my greatest triumphs thus far

The first night bedtime was a struggle. He cried and quickly jumped out of bed when I put him in. While bathing the girls I let him play in his room with the door closed. Tonight when I told him to go upstairs after dinner, he happily hurried into his bed. Pretending to be asleep I hated to explain it was bath time not bed yet. I still have to stay in his room, encouraging him to remain in bed for him to fall asleep. Thus far it’s been about 20mins, which gives me time to check emails and write this blog. Asleep by 8pm and awake by 6:30am has been the pattern. Once asleep, he sleeps right through the night. This morning he even remained in his room until I came to get him after my shower (the rule for everyone in my household). I’m incredibly happy with the sleep component.

During the day he amuses himself, playing and climbing onto to my lap. A trip to Superstore (since he came with nothing) was challenging. I put him in the cart, but he recognized a multitude of yummy treats. Joseph screamed and grabbed for cookies and sugary snacks as I whizzed past them. Again I have an oversized child. The size 4 plaid shirt I bought him for church couldn’t be buttoned this morning.

Church, like the shirt, wasn’t a good fit. Everything went well until a teachers arrived with a muffin in a McDonald’s bag. Joseph really wanted the bag and whatever was in it. Concerned about allergies, the teacher didn’t give it to him. He became increasingly inconsolable. I was called to help. The problem is I have no idea what to do. He hardly knows me. Even a piece of the desired muffin didn’t pull him out of the state he was in. When I tried to pick him up things got worse. Finally I calmed him enough to leave. The teachers were very gracious, encouraging me to have him stay when settled. I worried about another melt down later  and didn’t want to be stuck trying to get him through a crowed foyer. If at all possible, I avoid causing a scene. I gathered Sloane and Elise from their class. Joseph wept when I suggested he put his coat on. He continued in the parking lot and the car. Five minutes out of the parking lot, he was ok. Back home he was great the rest of the day. Hopefully with time (and if there are no McDonald’s bags) Joseph will settle into the routine of church.

Inside I keep screaming, “I think I have an autistic child!” This is not the easy I was looking for. Sloane getting along with Joseph eases the strain. He’s really happy at home.  The fact is, he needs to live somewhere right now. Why not here?

*name changed

The End

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7wks after arriving, it was time for the boys to go. Their maternal grandmother came forward to claim them. Normally when a family member is able to take foster children the process is quick – much faster than seven weeks. For whatever reason, there was a delay in this situation.

The fear of heartbreak when children leave is something that keeps many people from fostering. At first I was like that. And there were some heartbreaks along the way. This time it wasn’t too bad. In their short time with me, Deshawn* and Tyson* made great strides. I did what I could in the time that I had. Sloane* fully committed herself to their spiritual education. At home with only Tyson on week days she made up songs for him about the imminent return of Christ. Despite her constant fighting with Deshawn she burst into tears when they drove away. Elise*, who got along wonderfully with both boys, didn’t seem to care much. Being the more sensitive of the two, I expected her to shed some tears.

Foster care really is a terrible place for children. Even the most loving situation is unnatural and confusing for kids. The driver who transported the boys weekly to their visits was crushed when I told her they would likely be leaving. “But they’re so loved here with you,” she exclaimed. I pray that’s the impression they take with them.

Just before the move, the boys’ grandmother wrote me a heartfelt note. “We are truly grateful to have such a thoughtful, attentive care giver to watch the kids. Sometimes foster care isn’t the best situation but we couldn’t have asked for a better family in the situation present.” I know not all birth families will be able to respond likewise. Foster care is wildly challenging for everyone involved – birth families, kids, foster families, social workers, judges, etc.

When the boys came, I knew they were expected to go to grandma’s. Maybe that’s why the departure didn’t devastate me. Maybe there’s an extra grace on me for this season.

In the time since they’ve left (this blog was delayed due to a broken computer), I’ve painted and rearranged my entry way. I went on a crazy spree and completed all my Christmas shopping (minus any new foster children, though I do have a variety of extra gifts for boys/girls of any age should kids arrive at the last minute).

The time with Deshawn & Tyson was hectic. My body is thankful for the end of that chapter. (Tyson, a typical baby, wanted to be carried most of the time. However his weight and size in no way mirrored a typical 16mth old. Not able to refuse him, my arms grew weary to a degree I never imagined possible.) It was a good chapter in my life as a foster mom, but I’m ok with the ending. And, having caught my breath, I’m ready for the next adventure.

*names changed

 

These Days

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Please don’t confront me with my failures,

I had not forgotten them.

These Days by Nico

I’m part of a prayer ministry at my church. Most Mondays I listen to people pour out their hearts. My job is to facilitate dialogue between them and God. It’s incredibly exciting. I love partnering with Holy Spirit. In conjunction with a conference at church ministry appointments were being offered this past Friday. We had a trusted team visiting to help cover all the requests. Two people who’d booked appointments didn’t show up. That led to myself and another team member receiving ministry from one of the visitors.

Sloane - November 2011

Sloane – November 2011

The struggles with Sloane* were my focus. Sometimes it seems like we’re making progress then it all comes apart again. Our prayer model took a back seat. “The fact is you’ve purchased damaged goods,” said the woman ministering. Strange as it sounds, relief washed over me. I’ve been falling into the trap of comparing my child to other 5yr olds. Children who weren’t exposed to high doses of prescription drugs in the womb, didn’t spend the first 6wks of life in hospital being weaned off drugs, weren’t neglected, mistreated, abandoned, or any of the other things Sloane’s experienced are much more well adjusted. Sloane is struggling. She is damaged.

Though not biologically connected, Sloane and I are immensely similar. In school work, she won’t even attempt writing a word or letter unless sure she can master it. Anything she might fail at is avoided. It’s been disheartening having my perceived failure on display every time Sloane tantrums, speaks harshly, or acts inappropriately. I read other adoption blogs and hear about how well kids are doing.

Stores used to have a damaged rack (not sure if any still do, I don’t get out much these days). Being crafty and a bargain shopper, I used to peruse these spots. The range of damage went from a small water spot easily removed in the wash to massive unraveled holes in sweaters. Seems Sloane’s on the far end of the continuum.

“Because of all that’s happened, her heart is hard,” the woman went on. “All the love you pour on her isn’t going to get through.” We discussed the necessity of healing for Sloane’s heart. I’ve tried applying some of the strategies I know. “You’re not the one to do it,” was the insight given. “It’s not going to work when you try.”

We prayed through a few things. That night, with the other kids asleep, I prayed with Sloane.

The next, a rainy Saturday, had all the kids out of sorts. After some early morning shopping, we were home. I was trying to dish out cheesies (a terrible impulse buy while out). Sloane had been stirring up trouble over the treat. After several warnings I gave her rice crackers instead.

“You idiot!” she screamed her new favourite word. “I’m not having this!” Slamming down the bowl some crackers tumbled to the floor. Sloane jumped up, ran from the table to the counter and deposited the bowl with the remaining crackers. On her run back to the table, amidst ongoing screaming – things like, “You better get me what I want right now!” – her foot landed on a shard of cracker. It lodged in the bottom of her foot. In slow motion I watched as blood began shooting out. Mildly distracted from her rant, as though a fly had landed on her, Sloane looked down at the floor speckled with blood. I rushed over, trying to pick her up. Her body went stiff. Remembering her rage, she resisted. Pushing and kicking she vehemently told me to, “Get away!”

Not my shining moment as mother, I said, “Fine. Handle this on your own. I really want to help you, but if you don’t want me to I won’t.” Looking away, I got the first aid kit. She sat on a kitchen chair trying to scoop up the falling blood with her hands. Wailing, eventually she admitted her inadequacy. I pulled the cracker out and will spare you the gory details. As I worked, we remained at an impasse. Sloane’s body was rigid and her tone harsh. I must admit, she wears me down. Too often there’s an edge in my voice. As her mom, I want to pull her close. She’ll have none of it, so I point out the fact that she wouldn’t have cut her foot on a cracker if she hadn’t been freaking out.

The other children ate their bowls of cheesies, watching the show. I let them have more and more to keep them quiet and settled. They ate Sloane’s rejected crackers. They begged for more food. Snack was shut down when the blood was cleaned off the floor (they weren’t really hungry but trying to cope in their own way).

Her foot is fine, though she brings it up when I ask her to do something she’d rather not. This is not the result I was expecting after my ministry time and the prayers I prayed with Sloane. As always, I’m confronted by my own failures. After such ordeals I spend senseless energy thinking of how I should have done better. Still I keep failing to be the demure, compassionate mother I want to be.

"All mommy's necklaces!" July 2011

“All mommy’s necklaces!” July 2011

All the children in bed, I’m lamenting with the song, These Days. I’d like these days to end. I bring my inadequacies to the Lord. He’s the only one who can break through and repair the damage.

Though currently true, damaged is not Sloane’s permanent state. My daughter is one who overcomes. There’s a new name for her. No longer damaged or out of control. These days will give way to the glory God has planned for her.

 “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes I will give some of the hidden manna to eat. And I will give him a white stone, and on the stone a new name written which no one knows except him who receives it.”’

Revelation 2:17 (NKJV)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

determination - July 2011

June 2011 – Determination! Sloane believed the only place to be was on top of her play house. Despite my discouragement, she scaled the plastic walls.