Tag Archives: prayer

From 2 to 4

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I jump through hoops. That’s what I’ll tell people when asked what I do. This season without any foster children has given me time to think (see Progress Report). Deciding to homeschool Sloane* (see Back to School) revived my dream to foster babies. Since I have one child at home during the week, I might as well have more.

So I made the switch to babies with the local Children’s Aid I’m working with. Let me tell you, this was no small feat. The cribs I recently bought from IKEA were, apparently, not up to code. Nor was the gate I just got from Canadian Tire. The curtains covering my patio doors were not permitted to touch the ground. I tried safety pinning them shorter (my social worker suggested duct tape) but it looked ridiculous with the glass showing at the bottom. Really, who puts up curtains that don’t cover a window? Not me. So I had to take the curtains down. Now, at night, I try to convince myself there isn’t anyone beyond the black cavern of exposed glass. There were many more seemingly small things which amounted to a great deal of stress for me. This was exasperated because just after my social worker left my home with a failing grade for baby prep, she called me with a possible placement. Ideally, I’d wanted to have one little baby (preferably right from the hospital) and two older foster children – say 10 & 12. But that wasn’t possible. Teens and babies can’t be together. So my age range became 0-8yrs. And I nervously wondered how I’d manage so many young ones. Now I get to see.

The placement was a 4yr old and 14mth old. “Oh, these are boys,” my social worker said, somewhat surprised. “You’re only down for girls.” I don’t know why she even thought of me – since I am only down for girls. After two months of waiting for foster children, I decided not to let the opportunity pass me by.

I got everything done on my list – new crib, new gates, etc, etc, etc. My social worker came out early Thursday morning to inspect the place again. This is what I get to do – jump through hoops so I can bend over backwards caring for someone else’s child. The child comes with issues and challenges you would not believe. My entire life revolves around caring for a child that doesn’t even belong to me. Working through the list of things I needed to do, I kept wondering, “Why am I doing this?” Misty Edward’s song answers me. “It’s gonna be worth it,” I can hear her sing. “It’s gonna be worth it all in the end.” The end will be when I get to heaven and meet my maker. I know He’ll say, “This is what I created you for – to love Me by loving these kids.” I must admit I don’t always do it flawlessly or with an abundance of grace. But I’m still here. I’m still trying.

I now have a 5yr old, two 4yr olds, and a 14mth old. And I’m on my own. A baby and two older kids is what I was planning in addition to my own 5 & 4yr old. But this is the door the Lord opened. I’ve chosen to walk through it. Expecting to encounter Him in this new place.

*name changed

at Superstore looking for hair products and shoes for a very large 14mth old

at Superstore looking for hair products and shoes for a very large 14mth old (with a random shopper in the shot)

 

My Baby is 4!

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Today Elise* turns 4. She arrived three months before turning 2, so this is the 3rd time we’ve celebrated her birthday together. I had about 1wk to prepare for her arrival, which is unusual in fostering. I carefully decorated the nursery in birds, praying Psalm 124:7-8.

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.

Her older sister, Sloane*, had been with me three months when the social worker decided to move Elise to my home – against doctor and supervisor’s recommendations. I do believe everyone has been pleasantly surprised by the success of that decision – me most of all. I’ve seen my little one transform from frightened and fragile (for more info see Only Prayer) into a confident ray of sunshine.

I must admit she still sleeps in a crib – by her own choice. Up until a few months ago she still needed a bottle to fall asleep. Going without she struggles to lull herself to sleep. And she still needs a diaper for bed. Those are the biggest challenges. The fact that she continually wants to be picked up and carried is something I’m willing to indulge. As I put her to bed on the eve of her birthday, despite being nearly 4 and attending school, Elise still insisted I call her a baby. “I’ll always be a baby!” she’s decided. Not so. But I’m happy to pretend – holding her close and kissing her a million times.

As a single mom, I’ve told my girls Jesus is their dad. He’s the one who birthed them in my heart long ago. He also moved heaven and earth so I could keep them (see Adoption). He’s the one who provides for us in so many unexpected ways. When Sloane started wondering about a dad (she remembers her birth father), I casually informed her she had Jesus. It wasn’t something I went out of my way to tell Elise because she didn’t ask. But she’s got it. Recently when Sloane commented, “I don’t have a dad.” Elise piped up in sincere conviction, “Yes! We have Jesus!!!” Praying she always knows His love and protection as she grows.

*name changed

Elise at 2

Elise at 2

Elise at 3

Elise at 3

Elise at 4

Elise at 4

One Week

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In order to foster with the local Children’s Aid I needed a landline. The idea is so archaic, I decided to kick it completely old school – a corded phone and answering machine. Thursday, August 15 my handy pad of phonepaper was finally filled with details of a child. At first she was 11 – then suddenly almost 14 (the social worker’s math is clearly as bad as mine since she was determining age based on year of birth). A one week respite placement. The child came into care a week ago. Her foster parents had already booked this week off. Nearly 14 with some history of drug use and a tendency to sneak out. Maybe not a problem at my house since she’d be far from friends. It was my first call. I took the risk.

Carlin* arrived Sunday afternoon. Her foster mom was guardedly positive when we spoke on the phone the day before. “I have two 16yr old foster girls and they love her – want her to stay.” The other girls were off to camp. Carlin ended up with me because it was too late to register her for camp.

Sloane* and Elise* welcomed her with exuberance. After lunch we made play dough. Carlin was quietly helpful. Copying my actions, she kneaded the dough. For a while she played – cutting out pink hearts. She remained eerily quiet. This, no doubt, was exaggerated by the fact that I’m unaccustomed to quiet people. Her foster mom said she was quiet and just wanted to text all the time. That evening I left Carlin on her own.

The next day, with Sloane & Elise at daycare, we went to Starbucks. Somehow this always ends up being the first place I take kids. I didn’t get any pictures of Carlin, but do have one of Sloane. I bought Carlin a Caramel Macchiato. She’d never been to Starbucks and was overwhelmed by the adjoining Chapters. “There’s so much stuff,” she whispered.

1st outing with Sloane

1st outing with Sloane

Later that evening, with the little ones in bed, I suggested we watch a movie together. Carlin agreed, informing me “I don’t really watch movies.” I wanted to make an effort. It’s not like we could sit around talking. Conversation didn’t go anywhere. She was quiet and guarded. I’m no good at small talk. My questioning pulled out a disjointed family history. Carlin’s mom had only been 14yrs old when she had her. Later she married, someone other than Carlin’s father, and had the two little ones. Their paternal grandparents rescued them from foster care that day. But no one came forward for Carlin. She had to be sad. Normally people share with me quite freely. “I’ve never told this to anyone” is a phrase I commonly hear followed by a number of revelations from childhood abuse to secret dreams and desires. I was getting nothing from Carlin. She answered my questions with facts, no feelings.

It was a week of first for Carlin. After her mom didn’t show up for a visit we went to Fabricland (memories of my sister demanding candy for accompanying me fabric shopping flooded my mind). Then we went out for Vietnamese. “Thank you,” Carlin said as we left the restaurant. “That was really good.” Her manners were impeccable. She seemed sincerely grateful for my meager offerings.

Later in the week, it was Ikea. “It’s big,” was all she had to say at the end of it. The silence is something I never got used to.

On our final evening, I introduced her to Wes Anderson – whom I love. We watched Moonrise Kingdom. “It’s weird. But I like it,” she said. “When you’re older, you must watch the other films,” I implored.

By the end of the week she was humming along to Jon Thurlow as we drove around.  IHOP Kansas City was playing continually in the background at home. I resisted the urge to launch into prayer counselling. But I did bless her spirit using Arthur Burk’s book at night while she slept.(If you’d like a copy, let me know. I just got a shipment in.) Sloane tried to convince Carlin to stay with us. Even when her foster mom came to get her, Sloane pleaded her case.

Shortly after she left, Carlin text me. “Thank u for having me!!!”

“It was my pleasure. Feel free to stay in touch if you want. Praying all goes well for you!” was my response.

“okay I will and thanks 😀  u cook really good food too I never ate like that before”

I can’t recall most of what I made – teriyaki chicken with rice, apple cinnamon bread for breakfast one day, peach pie that turned out below par.

“I’m sure she means it,” a fellow foster parent assured me. “She didn’t have to text you. She’d already said goodbye.”

Goodbye –that’s the hard part. Some kids you’re happy to see go. Others burrow deep into your heart. I doubt Carlin will ever return to my home. But, for now, she remains on my heart. I’m still praying for God to break in on her situation. I’m blessing her, via Arthur Burk’s exceptional prayers, to move past the pain and into the Father’s love. But, sadly, this is where the story ends.

*name changed

Ready? Set? Go!

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June 27, 2008 I began my career as a foster parent. Over the past 5yrs, with a private agency, I’ve had a total of 8 children come to me. The first, Sabrina*, has been with me since day one. For the past two years I’ve had the same 4 children in my care – two, Sloane* and Elise*, I managed to adopt. With Sabrina turning 18 and moving forward in life, now seemed like the time to change directions. I’m still fostering, but with the local Children’s Aid instead of the private agency.

Megan* never did recover from her trip across the border . Things continued to deteriorate, which made my decision somewhat easier. June 28, 2013 Megan moved to another foster home within the private agency. Since then Sabrina’s been a bundle of nerves, knowing her turn is coming. Years before I knew her, Sabrina was diagnosed with Attachment Disorder – which means heartfelt relationships are generally beyond her capacity. The amount of stress and tears she’s shedding is a testimony that I did somehow land in her guarded heart. However the hours Sabrina spends screaming that she hates me and wishes we’d never met doesn’t leave me warm and fuzzy. This is how she copes with the impending loss – trying to quench her emotions with hate.

So, in the midst of all this emotional upheaval, I’ve painted two bathrooms and two bedrooms (one somewhat voluntarily, the other because a weekend visitor trashed it….maybe more on that in a future post). I’ve rearranged my living room. I’ve built a wooden walkway in my front garden. I’ve bought two cribs (hopefully to be used in about 6mths time). Furniture and pictures have shifted from one floor to another. This is how I deal with loss. I decorate. I try to make it all beautiful. I change my surroundings so the absence of an individual isn’t as predominant because everything around me is different. That chair you used to sit in is no longer there, so maybe I won’t notice that you’re not here. Grief, loss, trauma. These are the hallmarks of my career.

And now, today, I start anew with another agency and a fresh batch of kids. I’m listed as being available for up to 3 girls between the ages of 6 and 12. In working directly with Children’s Aid there’s more uncertainty about how long the kids will stay (the private agency tended to have long term/permanent situations). So I may get to redecorate soon – but, depending on the turn over rate, might need to find a new coping strategy.

Here are the rooms as of this morning, my first official day with Children’s Aid…..praying for the little ones soon filling them!

ready for two

room for two

 

 

room for one

room for one

 

 

*name changed

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