Tag Archives: faith

Baby Birds

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bird's nest

bird’s nest

three eggs

three eggs

two babies

two babies

Misinformed robins built a nest on the railing of our deck. In early spring the skeleton vines had the potential to offer shelter. However, they were annuals I hadn’t cleared away yet. I’m sure the couple regretted their location once my children began occupying the backyard. Still three eggs appeared in the nest. We watched diligently waiting for them to hatch. One Saturday morning two babies appeared in the nest. That weekend three extra children were with me. They all came into foster care before the age of 3. Two are now 13, the other 9. They’ve been well cared for.

Panic spread through my troop of children when they spotted the baby birds. One of the 13yr olds was sure the robins couldn’t care for the babies. She quickly convinced the five other children. Having been disappointed by their own birth mothers, they believed the lie that these birds would abandon the babies. Despite my reassurance, they spent the entire day placing worms in the nest. A resounding cheer went up whenever the mother robin returned to the babies.

Mother issues? Turns out years of care doesn’t cure that. These kids have been raised in foster homes where the parents have biological children. That example hasn’t penetrated the lie that biological parents abandon their children. Maybe this is how foster care ends up being a generational pattern.

Praying the cycle stops with these girls. Praying their testimony will be:

We have escaped like a bird
    from the fowler’s snare;
the snare has been broken,
    and we have escaped.
 Our help is in the name of the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

Psalm 124:7-8

Living with Limits

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I work for a private fostering agency providing care for special/high needs children. Usually by the time kids enter our agency they’re older and quite damaged. My greatest frustration is that most of their “special needs” are preventable conditions. A great number have diminished mental capacity from being exposed to alcohol while in the womb. This is usually coupled with extreme neglect, trauma, abuse in their early years. Add to that moving around in and out of a broken Children’s Aid system and the end result is anything but pretty.

In five years, I’ve gotten used to a lot of things but the term “acquired brain injury” still makes me cringe. (Meaning someone did something serious enough to cause a permanent brain injury.) Often the kids themselves are cognitive enough to resent the state they’re in. Mostly they try to hold it together, navigating a world beyond their understanding. As a caregiver there are times the limitations trip me up and I fall short. Like the other day when Sabrina* was putting the canopy on our gazebo. She had it all turned around – the long end of the canopy going along the short end of the frame. My clear, simple explanation of the problem when she asked for help left her completely confused. At a loss, I walked away. Twenty minutes later Sabrina joyously informed me that she figured out the problem – the canopy was on the wrong way. “I told you that,” was my response after congratulating her. “Well, I didn’t know what you were talking about.” This is the daily grind we’re accustomed to.

Last weekend my friend’s 13yr old foster child was with me. Since the last time Natalie* visited – about three weeks ago – she’s fallen in love with India. A streetwise little spitfire her passions have been dominated, thus far, by pop stars. In the three years I’ve known her, Natalie has never expressed such sincere affection for anything or anyone. Eating dinner in a Greek restaurant, she wishes to hear some Indian music. At home I put on an animated film from India that comes up in my search of Netflix. Watching her watch it my heart breaks. I’m mourning who she could have been. Without the limitations inflicted upon her by alcohol and abuse who could she have been? If things were different, would India have played a key role in Natalie’s life?

I know God is able to bring redemption to any situation. I’m still believing for these kids to be healed mentally, physically, and emotionally. In the meantime I’m grieving the loss of what God really planned for them. This pain and frustration certainly wasn’t His intention. Most of the time my thoughts fail to extend beyond, “How can I get through this day without anyone breaking down?” I don’t think about what God really wanted when He created these kids. Today I’m painfully aware of the deposit of divine design. How do I help my kids bypass their limitations in order to unearth what God’s deposited? How can I connect Natalie to India so she can catch even a portion of God’s plan for her?

*name changed

My Legs Are Tired!

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After a play date at the park, we headed over to the pharmacy. Sloane*, normally a bundle of energy, wanted to go in her sister Elise*’s stroller. Instead

of asking she just shouts in a menacing way, “MY LEGS ARE TIRED!” Sloane says this several times before I can jump in with, “There’s a proper way to ask for things.  Screaming at me does not get you what you want.” My words fall on deaf ears. Sloane has her own way of doing things. She continues screaming with a frightening amount of rage, “MY LEGS ARE TIRED!” Respectable retirees are out tending their gardens. I’m sure none of their children ever behaved this way. With Sloane’s voice reverberating through the quiet neighbourhood, I struggle to keep my composure. Finally, I bend down to face her and say, “That is enough. If you want to go in the stroller stop screaming and say, ‘mom, could I please go in the stroller.’” She doesn’t. The screaming continues. Tears stream down her face. A friend calls to see if we’re still going out for lunch. I stop walking and encourage Sloane to sit down on the sidewalk to rest her legs. She won’t. The screaming gets louder now that my attention is divided. Off the phone, after declining lunch, I give her a stern talking to. The point being we’re far from home and need to get her medication from the pharmacy. The behaviour meds (see Happy Birthday to Me) help her focus but her rage and frustration have been strong lately. It could be the medication or just Sloane processing more of her struggle. Recently we had a small adoption party and private dedication ceremony. Her birth grandparents came to bless the girls and got to meet my parents. It was challenging for Sloane to have her two worlds collide. So the recent rage could be about that or it could be depression caused by the medication. I don’t know.

Nearing the pharmacy, I tell Sloane she can sit down while I’m getting the medication. This doesn’t appease her. I’m ready to forgo the request that she ask properly to sit in the stroller. “If you’re quiet in the pharmacy you can have a turn in the stroller when we leave.” I’d like to promise her the whole way home, but I know Elise’s little legs won’t make it that far. She lacks Sloane’s stamina.

The screaming doesn’t diminish in the pharmacy. “MY LEGS ARE TIRED!” she shouts as I grab a few things we need before heading back to the

Sloane practicing her growl in the mirror.

Sloane practicing her growl in the mirror.

prescription pick up area. “You should sit down and rest your legs,” I say, indicating the row of chairs. An elderly woman occupies one. “My legs are tired so I’m sitting down,” she says kindly. Sloane growls at her then me because that’s what she does. She has a habit of growling – not in a cute cuddly way but barring her teeth and releasing an absolutely frightening sound. “No,” I say, picking her up and putting her on a chair. She immediately slides off still screaming, “MY LEGS ARE TIRED!” I try the chair again with the same result. I pick her up. But need to put her down a few minutes later to steer the stroller out of the store. The screaming continues.

Next to the pharmacy is a local bakery which Elise loves. I’d promised she could get a cookie when we first left the park. I’d like to skip it and hurry home, but then she’s missing out because of Sloane’s behaviour. Before going in I make the same offer, “If you’re quiet in the bakery you can have a turn in the stroller when we leave.” This time it works. Elise has discovered they give out free cookies at the bakery so she asks the lady working there for one. The only sound out of Sloane’s mouth is her asking me if she can have a cookie as well. I say yes. I buy buns, two cream horns, and a small rhubarb pie for myself.  This is why I’ve gained so much weight since I started fostering, after being assaulted by screaming I encourage myself with the likes of pie. Out of the bakery, I tell Elise to get out of the stroller. Sloane gets in. To entice her to walk, Elise gets a cream horn. Sloane is furious that she doesn’t get one. I try to explain screaming doesn’t warrant special treats but she can’t hear me because she’s screaming again.

Sloane in a happier moment

Sloane in a happier moment

My message that screaming doesn’t get you what you want isn’t being absorbed. Sloane still prefers to employ this approach. What she doesn’t get is that I’m just as determined as she is. It may take me a cream horn and some pie to get through, but I’m not going to give into these tactics. You’d think this lesson would have been learned after 2yrs together. I fairness to her, she does get it most of the time. But there are times Sloane’s emotions overwhelm her. Once she starts the screaming it’s hard for her to stop. Praying for a deeper level of healing and a complete harvest of self-control in my little girl (and myself!)

*name changed

Adoption

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When I was 10yr old I was reading through the book of Isaiah. That in itself is unusual. But that year I’d decided to read the entire Bible. When I came across Isaiah 54, the Lord spoke to me.

Isaiah 54:1-5

“Sing, barren woman, you who never bore a child;
burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor;
because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband,” says the Lord.
“Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide,
do not hold back; lengthen your cords,strengthen your stakes.
For you will spread out to the right and to the left;
your descendants will dispossess nations and settle in their desolate cities.

“Do not be afraid; you will not be put to shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated.
You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood.  For your Maker is your husband— the Lord Almighty is his name—
the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; he is called the God of all the earth.

 

“That will be you,” the Lord said. “You’ll adopt two children before getting married.”

My response was, “Ok!” As a child it seemed so plausible. The seed of God’s promise went deep. Since then I’ve prepared for motherhood mostly by praying. Through my teen and young adult years there were seasons of intense intercession for the woman who would carry my children into the world.

When I turned 32, the Lord said, “This year your child will be born.” Being a foster parent at that point, I anticipated a call for a new born baby. Working for a private agency specializing in care for older special needs children this was unlikely. At the beginning of September, with my foster kids back to school and no baby in sight, I sat down in the living room to cry.

“You said this year. The year’s almost over.” After venting my frustrations, I began to pray for everything to come into alignment. What I know now is that my youngest daughter would be born September 19. For reasons unknown, her birth mother suddenly came to Canada from the US a few weeks before Elise’s* birth. After being born addicted to drugs, Elise came into foster care. Sadly, it wasn’t my home she came to. And it would be 18 more months before I knew anything about her.

A chance encounter with someone I knew casually, prompted me to begin the adoption process with my local Children’s Aid. “You have to be ready,” she insisted. “Do it now.” There was such an urgency I took it as a word from the Lord.

My initial meeting with the adoption worker was dismal. She said it would be a year before I could even take the initial training. And she made it clear, since single, I wouldn’t be considered for a child under the age of six. Even knowing all about the foster care and adoption system, I’d held onto the hope of adopting young children – which for me was under the age of five. The Lord had given me several dreams and visions about my kids. They were always toddlers or babies when I saw them.

Her words didn’t line up with what I felt God saying – especially the part about doing it now. At that point I was working part-time at my church. I asked the staff to pray about the adoption process. Two days later I got a call to start training the next week. Everything was fast tracked.

While working towards approval to adopt, the Lord miraculously enabled me to buy a house. Though He’d never said it, I always imaged owning a home when I adopted. Looking for houses, I was leaning towards small. I ended up with a large four bedroom, two story home. In every way it’s so much more than I expected.

Just before moving, my adoption homestudy was completed. Three months after moving into my house, I got a call to take a 3yr old foster child. She reportedly had severe brain damage. March 30, 2011 Sloan* arrived. She walked boldly into my home and sat down at the dinning room table. She was the spitting image of me as a child. She talked a mile a minute, clearly without any brain injury. I was in love – the guarded sort of love that comes with fostering.

Her younger sister, Elise, remained in the foster home they’d come into in December. Around 6mths of age, Elise had gone back to her birth family. Nine months later she and her sister came into care. Once Sloan came to me, Elise would visit on occasion. The first time the social worker heard Elise laugh was at my home. That’s likely what prompted the woman to reunite the children despite doctor’s warnings that Sloan was a danger to Elise.

June 28, 2011 Elise moved to my home. Her transformation has been amazing (more on that in a later post).

Several friends were optimistic I’d be able to adopt the girls. I was not. It seemed impossible. There were many attempts to reunite them with birth parents. To the social worker’s great surprise nothing worked. Since Elise had been in foster care before, the pressure was on to come up with a permanency plan for these kids. Adoption became the only option. After thinking and praying about it, I told the worker I would like to adopt them. She was thrilled. “I can’t imagine a better outcome for them,” she exclaimed.

Her words sustained me as the newly assigned adoption worker asserted her authority – making it clear to the kids and I, she’d be deciding where they ended up. In July 2012, I found out another family had been selected to adopt Sloane and Elise. In the midst of absolute sorrow, something rose up in me to fight for my kids. Sloane had been pleading with the adoption worker to let her stay with me. I knew it would devastate both of them to go.

I appealed the decision. The adoption worker’s primary objection was the fact that I’m single. In August 2012, I presented my case to a panel of three seasoned women from the Ministry of Youth and Child Welfare. I won!
September 6, 2012 Sloan and Elise were “placed” with me for adoption, though they’d already been there for over a year. January 30, 2013 I received the court documents finalizing the adoption. April 28, 2013 we’re finally celebrating! It’s been a transition for all of us from foster mom & foster kids to forever mom & kids. I just turned 36 and true to His word, my daughter was born when I was 32. I got to meet her when I was 34. Everyday life continues to be challenging. Taking a moment to reflect, I’m so glad for the promise God planted in my 10yr old heart. Now that I have the promise, I can see how far from ordinary it is. That’s ok. I’ve never been all that ordinary.