Happiness from Within

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In one week I will be 37. Being single at this age is a lot different than being single at 17 or 27. I’m comfortable with myself in ways I wasn’t at those ages. Growing up I was forever being told, “You’ll make a great wife one day.” Maybe I still will. It’s never been a passionate pursuit. Perhaps naively, I expect the Lord to open the door for marriage if that’s what He has for me. Since it’s not yet opened, I’ve created a life for myself – walking through the doors the Lord has opened.

Being alone is hard sometimes. Being an introvert and wildly independent, I’ve had to intentionally create community. Nearly 6 years ago I moved from the city I grew up in to a small town. I knew a few people since the church I attend and worked at was located in the same town. Some of those friends have since moved away. Others have entered my life but it’s taken intentionality to build those relationships. Making friends when you’re older is harder – there are kids and schedules and unshared histories. But, as a fulltime homeschooling single mom, I need community to keep my sanity. That’s the most important thing I’ve discovered at this point. My kids are wonderful yet limited.

Recently in applying for a job (part-time working from home), I was asked to provide two references. Who to choose? I messaged a friend for advice. She was slow in responding. So I talked through the dilemma aloud while eating dinner with my girls. 4yr old Athena insisted I include our friend’s dog. I’m not sure he’d be the best choice. When a puppy, I cared for him daily. Now that he’s older our arrangement is: I can stop by to walk him whenever I want while my friend’s at work. I must admit that hasn’t happened in ages because it’s been so cold and I’ve been so busy. I doubt he’d have anything positive to say at this point.

I look forward to the time when my girls are older and friendship blossoms between us. For now, I am responsible for their daily care and instruction. It’s a beautiful relationship, but more demanding than I ever imagined. Having a partner might lighten the load, but I won’t waste time lamenting. The Lord has enabled me to adopt as a single woman. I am fully capable on my own. I am whole and content. There’s room in my heart and life should that door open, but I won’t devote myself to a possibility. My kids need me to be fully present for them. I need to fully engage with them not allowing imagination and longing to sap my strength.

It’s taken a long time for me to get to this point. Growing up, I often imagined the glory of marriage. In my mid-20’s I was heartbroken by the end of a romance. I spent a great deal of time longing for that man. There are fleeting moments when I still miss him. There are times when I think, “if only I had….”. Everything could have been different. Maybe it should have been. But it isn’t.

This is my lot. I have two beautiful daughters, a lovely home, the opportunity to be a full-time mom, friends who care for me, a family who are excited about the wonderfully unusual life I have created. Being single isn’t a problem I need to fix. It’s an opportunity I’m striving to make the most of.

Perseverance

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You may have noticed I’ve been posting on Sunday & Wednesday lately. This week I’m a day late. I’ve been busy getting ready for a mom 2 mom sale this weekend. I have a little coffee & tea business (www.believebistro.com) but that’s a whole other story.

Today I’m back to talking about Raine – who used to go by Sloane in this space. Since the pretense with Athena’s name has ended (Saying Her Name), I thought I might reveal my other daughter’s true name as well.

About a month after the adoption, we started seeing the girls’ birth grandparents. I knew them from visits when Raine & Athena were still foster children. If you want all the details on our situation you can review Open Adoption Part 1 & Part 2.

In the greater scheme of things, I know our connection is immensely valuable. In practicality it’s been challenging. Raine is generally very wild during the visit. And afterwards we endure several days of tantrums lasting hours on end. She screams about how much she hates me and wishes she could be with her birth mother again. The encounters bring to the surface intense emotions generally bubbling under the surface.

At times I’ve considered putting the visits on pause – offering Raine more time to come to terms with her situation. But she is immensely eager to see them. So instead my mom and I have collaborated on things to pray. And I’ve added my own parents to our get togethers. The two couples get along famously. My goal was to show Raine that she has one family who love her. So the past few times we’ve been one big happy family – all of us except Raine that is. She remained agitated during and distraught afterwards.

In an unrelated moment of frustration, I asked Raine, “What can I do to help you?”

“You need to pray a lot more,” she quickly answered.

For the most part she’s resistant to me praying with her. But after that statement we began praying before she went to bed. And I started having her list three things she’s happy about at the end of each day.

This past Saturday we celebrated Raine’s birthday with her birth grandparents (a little late, but their schedules are quite busy). My parents weren’t able to make it but I trust my mom was praying for us.

During the visit Raine was relatively calm. Even her grandmother noticed a big difference. Afterwards I was ready for the onslaught of anger. Instead we sat together looking at the gifts she’d gotten. When bedtime came around we made the list of what she was grateful for. “That you love me every day,” Raine exclaimed. The distance that normally crept between us after visits with birth family wasn’t there.

There haven’t been any outbursts or meltdowns. Raine’s continued to be content and emotionally stable.

So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.

Hebrews 10:35-36

Raising my girls can be challenging. There are times my confidence fails me. But in this area I’m glad to have persevered so that Raine, Athena, and I can receive the benefits of their grandparents love for us.

 

Not What I Expected

Tonight I asked 6yr old Sloane* to sweep the kitchen. It’s a chore she’s been dreaming of since she arrived three years ago. But actually doing it

spunky Sloane

spunky Sloane

didn’t hold her interest for long. After running upstairs to deal with another situation, I came down to find only half the room done. Sloane had moved on to something else.

I called her back and said, “You only swept half the kitchen.”

“Yeah,” she answered, “I didn’t know what you were expecting.”

“I was expecting it all to be done.”

“Well, that’s not what I was planning on.”

This exchange sums up my life in ways I can’t begin to explain. As mentioned in my last post (March Madness), we had a 3yr old foster boy with us for the past ten days. The social worker and his foster mom described him as very shy and withdrawn. I worried how he’d fare in my boisterous household. Turns out he was anything but quiet. He dominated the atmosphere of our home. In a negative way he changed everything. For the first time I was at a loss. I had no idea how to curb all the behaviours. Most importantly – for me – I had no idea how to get him to sleep. He simply wouldn’t most nights. His foster mom said bedtime was easy. It was not so for me.

We muddled through then something shifted on Thursday. After another difficult visit with a foster mom friend, things got better. A comment she made changed my perspective. “He’s too young to have that scary look.” There were moments the look in his eyes struck terror in both of us. It was frightening.

I must admit I’m not always objective. Once I had a 13yr old pregnant foster child staying with me. Doing her laundry I was at first appalled by the lacy lingerie. Then I remembered, someone had bought this for her. Probably it was her mother who obviously wasn’t doing a very good job watching over her.

With everything thrown at foster parents sometimes you, or at least I, forget the kids are the victims. They didn’t choose this. Eric*, the visiting 3yr old, didn’t invite that level of anger into his heart. Someone else put it there. So I started praying it off. His temper tantrums became less prevalent. Joy began overtaking him. There were still trials – especially when we went to visit another friend of mine. Like Sloane, social settings seem to be a challenge for Eric.

In our final days together, he followed me around saying, “What are you doing mom?” I’d tell him and he’d chatter away. Apparently he doesn’t talk much at his regular foster home. “Every once in a while he’ll sing and I love hearing it because he’s happy,” the foster mom said when dropping him off. He sang, laughed, and smiled lots. In the end he was very happy.

Nothing about him was what I expected. But, in my case, life rarely is what I expected.

those eyes

those eyes

He left a few hours ago. I kind of miss him. Maybe we could have made more progress had we been together longer. I don’t know. But at least, in the midst of all the anger and chaos, I found his heart. Praying as he’s loved and cared for at his regular foster home, Eric continues to move past the inherited anger fighting to keep him. Praying he finds the courage to love.

*name changed

 

Open Adoption (Part 1)

Openness is a growing trend in foster care adoptions. It can be scary. A typical private adoption consists of a young mom realizing her own limitations and choosing another family to parent her child. This is agreed to be a selfless act of love. Openness sounds like a great idea in these fairy tale situations.

Events leading to a child being in foster care are dark and sorrowful – nothing like the turn of events described above. Parents rarely choose adoption for their children in foster care. Generally it’s something forced by the court when all efforts at reunification have been exhausted. Birth parents do have to sign legal documents, but it’s not really a voluntary surrendering of their child or children. These kids were forcibly taken – almost without fail for good reason.

Understandably adoptive parents would be leery of openness in these type of situations. However, it is a growing expectation in the case of foster care adoptions. Sometimes it’s not the birth parents but other members of the birth family you’re expected to keep in contact with.

My daughters’ story is somewhat unique. Their birth parents are mostly far away in the US. Since the girls came to me as foster children, I got to know their birth grandmother and her new husband. They live about 1hr away and would visit the kids when they were in foster care. After some supervision, the social worker decided the grandparents could take the children out in the community instead of always meeting at the Children’s Aid Office. That led to them picking the kids up from my home.

Their grandmother and step-grandfather are an amazing Christian couple. They were overjoyed when I adopted their granddaughters. The adoption came with the agreement that I would maintain contact with the grandparents as I saw fit. That meant anything from a yearly update and pictures mailed to the agency or their home to ongoing visits. There was not a regimented visit schedule put in place like when the girls were in foster care – though in some adoption cases there may be. Defining openness was left up to me.

It took awhile for Sloane* to come to terms with our new definition of family. For months she argued that my parents couldn’t be her grandparents because she already had grandparents and “kids only get one like only one mom and one dad – except for me I have two moms. The mom I grew in, and the mom who adopted me.” My explanation that most kids have two sets of grandparents didn’t convince Sloane. Finally I went with her logic, “Because you’re adopted and now have two moms, you also get two grandmas and two grandpas.” She agreed to that.

Adopting as a single person, I’m acutely aware of what my kids miss out on. Being unmarried, there are things I miss out on too. Having an open adoption has given my daughters two sets of grandparents instead of just one. It’s given me in-laws of sorts – in the best way. At our first meeting after the adoption took place, Sloane asked her grandmother to pour her some more juice. “We’ll have to ask your mom about that,” Sandra* answered. It was a small thing, but meant the world. She recognizes my position as the girls’ mother. This is not an easy transition considering she’s known them since birth as belonging to her own daughter.

We get together when we can – to celebrate holidays, birthdays, and just catch up. Sandra calls from time to time. Our relationship goes beyond the children. We’ve become a sort of family.

Usually when I mention this connection, people’s first question is, “Why didn’t the grandmother get custody?” Kinship care – where biological family or close friends/community members care for children instead of having them in foster care and/or adopted – is considered to be preferable. In this case, for reasons you needn’t know, the grandmother didn’t feel she could manage raising her granddaughters. We all rejoice that I get that privilege.

*name changed

in families

Wonderfully Unusual

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.

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*name changed