Tag Archives: foster care

Time Does Not Heal All Wounds

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Raine age 3

Raine age 3

This month marks 4 years since Raine came into my care. It’s something she’s been looking forward to for a very long time. The child, with a depth forced upon her by tragic circumstances, found significance in being with me longer than her birth mother.

But as the specific date draws near, emotions have derailed any positive feelings Raine might have expected. This past Saturday, I witnessed the life we used to live. When Raine’s eyes opened, she started screaming at everyone and about everything imaginable. This went on for nearly an hour in the morning then started again in the afternoon. Come evening she decided her room was unsuitable for sleeping in and that she would “absolutely never be sleeping anywhere near anyone named Athena ever again.”

I wanted to be calm. I wanted to be something other than what I was inside which was just plain fed up. It’s been a long time since life looked like this. How did I make it through that year and a half? “It nearly broke you,” a friend recently informed me. “I don’t think you have any idea how stressed you were.” In truth, I did. But I didn’t realize how evident it was to everyone else. I scraped by – pushing myself to love and embrace my daughter even when I didn’t want to. Occasionally, I shouted back in response to her irrational ranting. Later saying, “I wasn’t shouting just speaking really loud so you could hear me over all the noise you were making.” Raising my voice is something I was incapable of until I became Raine’s mother.

In the midst of the turmoil following the adoption, there was nothing I could do but ride out the storm – keeping my eye on who Raine really was. Under all the anger she heaped on me was a little girl who’d just lost her family forever. It didn’t matter to her that she now had a new one.

Since her room was unsuitable, I somewhat calmly told Raine to get her pillow and blanket. When she did, I marched her down to the basement. With visiting foster children, there were no other rooms available. Despite her pleas for help because “the basement is really creepy” don’t feel the need to pity her. We live in a newer home. The space is mostly finished and nicely put together. Raine was settled on a lovely futon in the warmest area of our home. She was hardly being mistreated, though an hour of screaming would give you an all together different impression.

My latest goal is to stop rewarding bad behaviour with increased attention. But after I got the other kids to bed, I did go down to see her because the screaming was getting on my last nerve.

“I wish someone else had adopted me,” Raine said when she’d calmed down a bit. This was something new. Nearly always in these moments of rage, she wishes to be back with her birth mother. I can understand that. It makes sense and I can stand being compared to an actual person. However, an imaginary perfect family that is happy to hang out with Raine while she screams at them and barks demands is someone I will loose to every time.

A lengthy discussion ensued. Early on, Raine admitted, “Whenever I act like this it’s because I’m thinking about my birth mom.” I acknowledged the pain and fear she’s carrying then assured her there is a way to be free. It will take time. But time alone won’t heal her heart. We’ve walked together for four years. Raine is not the brazen, defiant 3yr old who walked into my house. Most of the time, she’s quick to obey. She’s learned to love and think of others. She’s learned to share – even the tastiest of treats. When she first arrived, if anyone came near her while she was eating Raine would snap. Driven by the memory of lack, she was like a dog with a bone. My friend and I rejoiced the first time the little girl walked home from Tim Horton’s with her timbits. Normally, she’d devour them before they were even paid for. It’s been a gradual transformation caused by Raine’s choice to trust, a great deal of prayer, and my flawed determination. Time alone hasn’t brought her to this point. Time alone will not move Raine to complete healing.

In our conversation, Raine began describing her apprehension. This was the first time she’d ever spoken of it. Never sharing the details I knew, I assumed Raine had forgotten or blocked the memory. Dr. Phil’s warning not to ask children to deal with adult situations ran through my mind as Raine asked me to fill in the details of the vague framework she described. I suppose it’s too late. When apprehended just before age 3, Raine had already experienced more than most adults. She’s overheard social workers discussing details of her life that have left her confused and angry.

WP_000156For instance, she heard her birth family was living somewhere in a hotel. The terms around that word told me it wasn’t a good situation but all Raine heard was hotel. For quite some time she was furious to be stuck with my rules and limitations while she imagined her her family enjoying a Jacuzzi tub, swimming pool, hot tub, sauna, and all you can eat breakfast. She’s been to hotels in Niagara Falls. My friend and I regularly go with all our kids. It’s fun and the rules are lax. Raine really resented being in our dull home while her birth family was living it up in a hotel. Finally I had to paint a clearer picture of where they were.

Saturday evening, I answered the questions and painted some more pictures all the while wondering if it’s right. Honesty feels right. But Raine is 7. I tried, as always, to give her the truth while honouring the parents who brought her into the world. “Your birth mother’s heart is hurt. That stopped her from taking care of you.”

“Why doesn’t she just go to church?” Raine wanted to know. “Does she even know about Jesus? He can help her.”

“She knows about Him. And He’s trying really hard to help her,” I answered. “People have to choose to work with Jesus to heal their hearts. You’re choosing to work with Him. That’s why your heart is so much better than it used to be.”

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Strengths in Weakness

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5yr old Athena is spectacularly good at peeling wallpaper. I know this because she’s done it many times in a variety of spots. Occasionally it’s done out of anger. Most times I can’t figure out why she’s picked and plucked at my beautiful walls. I was quick to blame myself – I must be missing something she’s trying to communicate.

Then one evening, I was painting the upstairs hallway. Athena had been home from school that day, as she often is. I’d made a point of spending lots of time with her. At bed, I read her books and stayed to talk for ages. Raine, having a separate room, had gotten her own alone time with me as I tucked her in. I closed the doors feeling as though I’d done everything possible to nurture my daughters that day. Opening the can of paint, I realized I’d forgotten the paintbrush. To the basement I went. When I returned, paint was smeared all over the floor.

I entered Athena’s room and told her about the situation, asking her to go wash her hands properly so she wouldn’t get paint all over the bedding.

“I don’t have paint on my hands,” she sweetly informed me.

Earlier in her life, that little voice got me every time. For a while Raine ended up in time out for the messes Athena made because both swore it wasn’t them. And Athena’s gentle demeanor seemed much more believable. Then I caught her in the act of clogging the bathroom sink with chunks of hand soap.

There are times when Athena will march into the bathroom and slice the walls with a stick her sister forgot on the ground because she’s just been sent to her room for some infraction. Then there are times when she peels all the paint of a door jam while she’s supposed to be watching a movie with friends. After saying it wasn’t her, Athena shrugs and says she doesn’t know why she does it.

I don’t know why. As a person who like to know, this really irritates me. Since there’s not much rhyme or reason, I’m trying to be more diligent in keeping tabs on her. And I’m choosing not to blame myself because even on my best day as a mom I ended up with paint all over the floor.

But today, Athena got to make the most of her experience in peeling wallpaper. She helped me strip 007away the coverings in the dinning area to make room for the new paper she helped pick out.

She was absolutely delighted – ripping of the top layer, spraying, and pulling off the 2nd layer.

Another 5yr old, who is visiting while his foster family are on vacation, loves cleaning. When I announced we needed to get the torn wallpaper off the floor because a friend was coming for lunch, he set to work. There were a few questions about my friend and her two boys. It was clear his anxiety was mounting. Turns out sweeping warded off a breakdown. He focused on getting the wallpaper tidied and swept all the floors – only stopping when I promised he could do it again after our guests left.

It would be lovely to have a solution to Athena’s destruction and our visitor’s anxiety driven cleanliness. Without that, I’m enjoying my daughter’s skill at tearing down wallpaper at this welcomed time and the other little one’s delight in cleaning it all up.

Proclaiming Liberty

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This year, my church is declaring a Jubilee. The announcement came while I held my friend’s foster baby. The words spoken by Jesus,

 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me,
Because He has anointed Me
To preach the gospel to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To set at liberty those who are oppressed;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.”

Luke 4:18-19 (NKJV)

took on a new meaning for me. Suddenly I saw the captivity this baby had been born in to. The child welfare system is, unfortunately, necessary. I won’t dispute that reality. It’s a sad truth. There are situations children need to be protected from. Before he drew breath, this little one was caught up in the system.

As necessary as it is, the system is just that – a system. It’s not an ideal situation for children. Social workers, for the most part, do their best to make the right decisions. Foster parents, hopefully, pour love and nurture into these precious lives. But the system is cumbersome and often difficult to navigate. Decisions and directions don’t always appear to be in the children or family’s best interest.

2yr old Athena - November 2011

2yr old Athena – November 2011

When Athena came to me, she had been diagnosed with an unusual genetic mutation. The specialist insisted upon reconstructive surgery. But the system decided against it. Athena’s head was noticeably misshapen. Her one eye was recessed and it was unclear if she would be able to see properly as time went on. The decision didn’t appear to be in her best interest. As the foster parent, there was nothing I could do but pray and love her. In the end God has reshaped her head. Her eyes are aligned, though one remains slightly smaller. Had I been her legal mother, I would have decided on surgery when the world renowned geneticist insisted it was the best course of action. But Athena was subject to the decision of a system. Among other things, that system was bound by the challenge of legal custody. At that point, they were still trying to connect with the birth family – who were living in another country. The system didn’t have the authority to take medical action in a situation that was hardly routine. I am eternally grateful for Athena’s healing.

It was a miracle. Followed by an even greater miracle – that she was released from the system. Now that Athena’s adopted she has a parent – me – who has legal authority to make decisions for her life. And those choices are based on love and a desire to do what’s best for Athena. The system is unable to operate under that mandate. There are rules, regulations, and budget realities that make it impossible.

Athena & mommy - October 2014

Athena & mommy – October 2014

It’s a necessary system. But it’s a system. This year, as my church focuses on Jubilee, I’m praying for the release of captives. Foster children are captive to a system. Even operating at it’s absolute best, a system is no substitute for healthy, loving parents. So I’m praying this year, children will be released from the system into healthy, life-giving families. First and foremost, I’m praying for birth parents to come to a place of health. If at all possible, this is where kids should be. Should that not be possible, I’m praying for adoptions to occur at an exponential pace.

It was 9mths from the time my daughters became available for adoption until they were officially “placed” with me for adoption. (In our case, since the girls were already living with me, the placement was just a visit from the adoption worker that involved paperwork making the adoption official.)

9mths in the life of a child is a very long time. There are families waiting to adopt. There are children needing to be adopted. Let’s pray that comes together miraculously fast. Let’s pray that this year, many children are released from the captivity of the system into healthy families who can care for them to a degree the system can’t. Because even operating at it’s absolute best, a system is no place for a child to grow up.

Caught Up in Drama

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I tend to get caught up in the drama dished out by the media. This, may be, my greatest strength and resizeweakness. I’m not talking about the drama of reality tv or what celebrities’ children wear while walking down the street. I’m talking about things like a report on racism in Winnipeg. The article describes a portion of the city that it is “the poorest and most violent neighbourhood in urban Canada.” Where “one in six children are apprehended by Manitoba’s Child and Family Services.”

Before moving to Kingston this past summer, my sister and brother-in-law lived in Winnipeg. Having visited several times, I feel connected to the city.

Reading about the challenges facing aboriginals, my first response was, “I’m going to move there and foster.” Many children are coming into care. I’m sure my experience would be welcomed. My heart was full. Thoughts slipped out as I read the article over dinner.

“We’re not living there,” Athena told me. “It’s too cold. And winter is forever.”

I’d almost forgotten that as I got caught up in the dramatic story of despair. This is the drama that grips me, motivates me, and moves me. But in the end, there’s often nothing I can do.

I can’t pack up and move to Winnipeg at the moment. I really want to. I’ve started looking at real estate listings. It’s affordable. But I’m in the midst of several things here in Ontario – like adopting again. Realistically, I know it’s not possible or advisable. Uprooting our life isn’t going to be best for Raine and Athena right now. So….maybe when my kids are grown I will move myself into this tragedy. Because how can I not respond to the vast need?

Winnipeg has become my retirement plan. In the meantime, I can pray. I can tell you. Maybe there’s something you can do. Maybe you can reach out to the vast number of aboriginal children coming into foster care. Maybe you can get caught up in this drama, too.

Or maybe you can build benches. At bedtime, I asked 5yr old Athena, “What can we do to make the world a better place?”

“We can build benches. Paint them rainbow colours. And put them everywhere,” she answered. “Then when people’s legs are tired, they can sit down.”

Her little legs often get tired trying to keep up with her energetic sister when we’re out for walks.

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Maybe you can build a bench. Though I would love to see everyone I know jump into the world of fostering and adopting, I realize it’s an unusual path. If it’s not for you, maybe you can be a bench – somewhere for those walking this path to rest. Because the vast need can be tiring.

If you can jump into the drama, do it! If not, build a bench.

Fulfillment

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This time last year, in a moment of reflection, the word that landed in my heart for 2014 was fulfillment. Today 2014 draws to a close, I’m pausing to reflect. It has indeed been a year of fulfillment.

For me, adopting is something God put in my heart as a child. It came to pass in a rather difficult manner that left me feeling doubtful. Having already been with me a year and a half, the finality of adoption sent Raine into a tailwind of grief. As she came to grips with the reality of loosing her birth family and the last name she was born with, I became the target for all her anger. There were times Raine actually accused me of stealing her from her birth mother. We reviewed the reality of how she came to me many times. It’s a sad story to accept – parents unable to care for you properly. Her grief was real and complex.
I never regretted my choice to adopt her, but questioned my ability to parent her. Maybe the couple the adoption worker had wanted to place her with could do this better – with more grace, more patience, more joy. Maybe. Maybe not. It’s useless to ponder because I challenged the adoption worker’s decision and won. On dark days, I would reread the final verdict from the review panel. They were sure I was the right parent for Raine and Athena. So often I needed an infusion of certainty.
This past year Raine has settled in – accepting her fate with joy. She’s now at peace most of the time. Overall, our encounters are positive. Homeschooling is often fun instead of a daily struggle.
“Your girls are so peaceful,” a friend recently remarked. She knows it wasn’t always that way. After being away most of 2014, my friend is experiencing the final product after seeing us at our worst in the midst of 2013.
This is the reality of adoption. Change is possible. Healing can happen. But coming together as a family is a process – especially when we’re starting from a place of brokenness.
Growing up with the dream of adopting, the Lord often called me to a place of prayer. As a teen and young adult I would spend hours praying into the children who would one day be mine. Often I read the story of John the Baptist’s birth in Luke 1. I’ve always loved John’s determination. He went against the flow – a direction I often find myself going in.

And the child grew and became strong in spirit….(Luke 1:80) I often prayed over the children who would come. That seemed to be the key – being strong in spirit. I knew then and know now that in myself, I can’t fix the many issues. I can’t take away the real pain of loss. I can’t wipe away rejection. There are things I can do to help. I can be a place of comfort, encouragement, and stability. There are things I can do and try to do consistently to ease the discomfort. But in the end, it’s the God of all creation who can bring healing. Knowing that, I prayed fervently for the day that I live in now.
As a teen and young adult, I could pray for hours at a time. I could delve into the Scriptures and discover His plans. Now as a single mom, I don’t have that kind of time. But I’m reaping the benefits of those prayers.
Not long ago, I was reading the Christmas story from the gospel of Luke. Raine kept trying to interrupt. I wouldn’t let her speak until we’d completed the section on John the Baptist’s birth – ending with the verse about growing and becoming strong in spirit.
“When I turn 10 we’re going to celebrate by taking a break from eating for three days. We’ll just pray all day and maybe all night. You and me, and Athena if she wants to do it,” Raine announced what was burning in her heart while I read to hear about John the Baptist. Her idea came from her spirit and she didn’t even have the word for it – fasting. That discipline has not been part of my life since Raine and Athena entered it. Nor is it something I’ve explained. All of a sudden, I remembered the years of prayer.
In those times of prayer, the Lord showed me my children following Him passionately in every stage of life. Raine embraces the things of God with fervency. She longs to understand more and more. Her spirit is strong and growing everyday.
DSC_8033This past year has been one of fulfillment. The daily battles, the discouragement, and the exertion of effort has given way to peace and joy. The dream I had of being a mom was technically fulfilled in 2012. But only in this past year have I reaped the joy of that relationship. There have been highs and lows, but in 2014 I’ve been able to enjoy my calling as a mom more often than not.
The theme for my church has been the year of the harvest. I am now seeing the harvest of the prayers I planted so very long ago. And I am reaping the rewards of the investment I made in Raine from the beginning. Even in the darkest times (after regrouping), I chose to return to her with love.
“It took so long because God knew Athena and I needed to be with you. He made sure you waited for us,” Raine said when I explained how long I’d waited to become a mom.
He knew. He knew how difficult it would be. He knew the joy on the other side. He knew I would be too tired and discouraged in the midst of our family’s formation to really pull on heaven. He knew. Existing outside of time, He held those prayers – releasing their fulfillment at the appointed times.
 
…You know with all your heart and soul that not one of all the good promises the Lord your God gave you has failed. Every promise has been fulfilled; not one has failed.
Joshuah 23:14
The Lord promised me a family full of love and joy. This year I saw the fulfillment of that promise. It’s been hard but He’s been faithful. Though many times I fall short as a parent, He has not failed.
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photos courtesy of Shannon Guiler