Figures...

So eleven days, three bites, two scratches that drew blood, and countless tears in, with two hours to go Charlie & J decide to get along.  They are actually purposely playing together in the backyard.  Kids are amazing.

"Behold, I am the Lord, the God of all flesh.

Is anything too hard for me?"

(Jeremiah 32:27)

A difference...

If nothing else, the last 9 months or so of foster care has taught me that 39 years of living has done nothing to give me realistic expectations.  Virtually nothing turns out like I think it will...sometimes it's harder, but often it's much better.

That said, I had a startling realization around 5:00 this morning.  Poor Charlie is now trudging through L's stomach bug of Tuesday (so much for that iron stomach I touted). Since his bout struck right at bedtime, we settled him on an air mattress in our room, unsure of how often he would be sick or his ability to handle it in his sleep, not to mention that his bedroom is carpeted and ours isn't.

Throughout the night my poor boy was up every 45 minutes to two hours...and when I say "up", I mean getting sick, a few times I'm pretty sure he was actually still mostly asleep and just rolling over to his bowl.  Having him in our room made it very easy to hear, help, comfort and clean him, but as any mom knows, waking up five times in the night to vomit is not pleasant.

What I realized in the wee hours this morning though was that I truly didn't mind.  I hate that my boy is sick and miserable and going to miss a couple of playdates, but jumping out of bed, holding his head, wiping his brow and cleaning his bowl were exactly what I wanted to be doing.

The thing is, if I'm honest with myself, I wouldn't have felt the same way if L's illness had struck in the night.  I don't know if it's because I've only known him a few weeks, because I didn't carry him in my belly, because he doesn't share my DNA or what...but I honestly believe that for anyone other than Charlie I would have resented every bit of last night.  I would be frustrated and grumpy and playing up my tiredness and the intermittent "sympathetic" nausea I felt.

I didn't think it would be that way.  My childhood love of orphan novels and my pride led me to believe that opening our home to foster children would turn me into an altruistic angel of some sort, but I'm not.  For now at least, I am still Charlie's mom trying to help other people's kids... I do wonder (hope?  fear?) if that will change, though.

Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.

(Colossians 3:23)

"I'll give you a dollar if you can get him to stay in your room with you."

I guess that's what a puking baby, a sneaky 7 year old and major confusion between DSS and Bair did to me today.

It was supposed to be an easy day.  DSS was supposed to pick up J at 9:15 to take her to a forensic interview to follow up on the altercation at her previous home and then on to camp until Friday afternoon.  Charlie and I were going to take L to daycare and then have a quiet day.  Well, J woke up nervous and manipulative -- not surprising with the meeting and camp today, but still very trying.  Then at breakfast L vomited about 8 ounces of milk and half a bowl of oatmeal into the highchair.

Around 9:30 I tried to get a hold of the DSS caseworker, but his phone went straight to voicemail and it was full.  I texted, but received no response.  At this point I was getting nervous that J was going to miss her 10:00 meeting and not get to go to camp at all, so I called Bair.  Apparently the meeting was always at 1:00, so we had almost three hours to kill and a still vomiting baby.

By 12:15 all four of us were restless and ready to get out of the house.  Just as J was gathering up her new pink, heart duffle bag and I was brushing my teeth, L vomited all over our bedroom floor.  Thankfully, I had intended to leave early, so I thought we were still on track....right up until we were en route and I realized we'd left J's medication on the kitchen counter.

So we turned around, texted everyone involved at a red light and were soon headed back in the right direction, medication in hand and only a few minutes behind.  Then we followed a car with Minnesota plates who chose not to go anywhere near the speed limit, take up both lanes on Spring Street and stop at every single light.  We were late.

Just as the GPS told me we were at our location (nowhere to be seen), L again vomited, this time missing the towel I had draped over him, coating himself and pooling in the deep dark crevices of the carseat.

Apparently the Lowcountry Childrens Center is unmarked.  We eventually did find it, the DSS worker met us in the street to whisk J in for her meeting, and Charlie and I kept L awake almost all the way home in hopes of getting a good nap.

Thankfully, following a massive clean up, L did nap, and Charlie and I got to watch a mini marathon of Tiny House Big Living  before he woke up.  Unfortunately, L's greatest comfort in life is food, and with today's events I am limiting him to very small helpings of very bland food, so he is not very happy -- and apparently his greatest stress reliever is screaming.

That is where my "offer" to Charlie came in.  It appeared that the two might play together for a few minutes and I could sneak in a couple chapters of I John to just reset, but L wasn't going for it.   I will admit, at first it was just a snide remark, and I immediately felt guilty, but then when I saw Charlie's eyes light up, I realized it could be considered babysitting, so off they went.  Charlie definitely gave it his best effort, but when I could tell he was using his body to try to keep the door closed, I called it off assuring him that he could still have the dollar for his effort.

I really don't remember how quiet or loud life was when Charlie was 21 months old.  I do know that he was blessed with an iron stomach, though, so I have cleaned up more vomit in the past 8 hours than I have in my entire life.  I also know that while his natural selfishness drives me insane, it is a lot easier to parent a horrible liar than an excellent one.  (Charlie even remarked last night how amazing it is that J can lie without even smiling a little bit).

Parenting is hard.  Parenting children that you have not raised is hard.  Parenting a sick child is hard.  Parenting three children is hard....  and I have not yet come up with any hopeful or self-edifying conclusion to this day.

We are good, though.  No one is crying at the moment.  There is no fresh vomit.  And that will have to do.  I have a very persistent 7 year old waiting for his dollar.

It is better that you should not vow

than that you should vow and not pay.

(Ecclesiastes 5:5)

How soon we forget...

A quiet baby is a dangerous baby.

Jason was watching the kids this morning while I got ready for church.  He and Charlie were watching Mountain Men while J played on her tablet, and L wandered around babbling and singing.  Everyone was happy.

Eventually, I heard L out in our bedroom chattering away and banging some blocks, but thought nothing of it -- our house is safely baby proofed.  Then, when I stepped out to find a shirt, the dangers of babyhood came flooding back to me - L is not baby proofed.  He was sitting in the doorway with his diaper was off, and his hands, arms, the floor and the block were all covered in poop.  Ugghhh....

I stared for a minute.  We already knew that he wasn't accustomed to a diet so high in fruit and vegetables, but this was his second doozy in 2 hours!  Then I asked a 21 month old why he took off his diaper.  I believe my exact words were, "Haven't we talked about this?!"  And yes, he just laughed... Ugghhh...

Anyway, trapped in our room, I hollered for Jason to help.  He asked how and I just blankly stared at him down the hallway.  Clearly this is not an "on-call" worthy incident, but seriously.  We never had this happen with Charlie.  Then, just as we were about to bring ourselves around to sensible adult action, L licked his hand!  Ugghhh....

So, I ordered Jason to grab the wipes, I took the block, and we got to business.  Next, I ordered Jason to grab the baby and take him to the bath (after all, I was trapped in our room behind the mess and we only have a shower -- yay!), and I got to work.  Ugghhh...

As I scrubbed with wipes then clorox, I listened to Jason repeatedly ask, "Why did you do this?" of a 21 month old in the bath down the hall.  Clearly, we were made for each other.

Anyway, the baby is clean, the floor is immaculate, Jason is in the shower and all is well.  Plus, through this incident I did discover many things to be thankful for.  Among them:

• Charlie is potty trained
• Our bedroom floor is not carpet
• We have no bathtub in the master bedroom
• George had somehow become locked in the garage and wasn't discovered until after the incident
• There is no one in the world I would rather walk through crazy with than Jason

Scarcely had I passed them

when I found him whom my soul loves.

I held him and would not let go.

(Song of Solomon 3:4)

Help

I have always been a fiercely independent person.  For years I took pride in this, considering it a strength, but slowly I have begun to realize that like most other social strengths, it is rooted in my pride, not in God's sufficiency.

And in the past couple of days, my ongoing effort to loosen my grip on control and self-righteousness have born fruit.

Having the humility and grace to say yes to an offer of dinner from a sweet friend (and amazing chef!) for this evening has given me something to look forward to all day along, as well as the freedom of not having to even think about making dinner (yay!).

Accepting a $20 refund on the purchase of a used twin bed from a lady from church has given me the opportunity to share our journey and learn from her wisdom and experience.

And asking a close friend to see if she may have a hand-me-down swimsuit for J to take with her to camp may get me out of a shopping trip!

Yes, I am asking these three kind women to sacrifice time, energy and resources for me, all of which I could find within myself if I had to, and my pride struggles with that.  My selfish desire for control struggles with that.  But I truly believe we will all be better for it. The children's needs are being met, I am feeling less overwhelmed and very loved, and these wonderful women are doing God's work.

And whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water

because he is a disciple,

truly, I say to you,

he will by no means lose his reward.

(Matthew 10:42)

Details...

As we have learned with each placement, there is always more to the story.  Yesterday afternoon I had decided that the villain of this story was the bio mom, determined to ruin a safe and stable home for J and L.  It's a story you hear a lot, so it was easy to jump to that conclusion.

Come to find out, the fight was not between J and a neighbor though, but between J and the adopted daughter of the foster parents.  Now for millions of reasons I cannot even begin to relate to the bio mom, but if Charlie were staying with a family and ended up in an altercation with a child 2 years older than him and walked away with serious scratches on his face and arms, I would want him removed -- no questions asked.

It's not necessarily fair, and I truly don't believe it was in the best interest of the children in this case, but she can't know that.  And despite the fact that her actions and choices led to L's and J's placement in this home, I think that I can understand how the combined guilt, powerlessness, fear and anger would blind me to explanations.  So as much as I am second guessing this situation on many levels, I can empathize with a mother's love that got us all here.

A few weeks back Charlie was observing some family friends who have 11 children and he stated, "Mom, you're not that kind of mom."  Slightly offended at first, I had to agree he was right.  One child seems to be my sweet spot, two is fun from time to time, but three is...something. 

We will definitely survive this and possibly even thrive, but less than 24 hours in, Jason and I are wondering if we're completely nuts.

For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing,

but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

(I Corinthians 1:18)

Two!

I'm not going to lie, I'm nervous.  One of our parameters was to avoid fostering a sibling group, because we don't want Charlie to feel like the odd man out in his own family, but I got a call today that our sweet 20 month old L from a couple weeks ago and his six year old sister, J, have to move homes at least temporarily.  I'm hoping that with Charlie already loving L, and J being so much closer to his age, maybe it will work for a while.

The situation is really tough.  Their foster parents are wonderful, but from what we understand, J was at a playdate and got in a fight with another child in which she was scratched.  Her biological mom saw the scratches during a scheduled visit and is accusing the foster parents of something.  The entire incident is documented, and apparently the bio mom has a history of trying to disrupt J's placements, but at this point Bair's hands are tied.  The goal is to return both children to their current foster home as soon as everything is cleared up, but I don't think anyone has any idea when that may be.

So here we are.  Sometime this evening our family of three will grow to a family of five for an unknown duration -- possibly until we go to Seattle in a couple weeks...and maybe even when we come back (but Jason and I haven't even discussed that yet...)

J will be away for sleepaway camp next Monday through Friday, and L will be able to go to daycare tomorrow while we take Charlie to the orthopedic doctor (broke his arm Monday night in Branson), then again next Tuesday and Wednesday mornings when I go in to school.  At this point, I haven't really figured out what other days I'll be taking L to daycare...or what we'll do with 3 kids this weekend!

I do need to email church and see if they can split Jason's and my Sundays to serve, so one of us can be with them, and I really should have bought milk on our way home from Splash Zone.  I opened a new carton this morning, but L went through a whole gallon the weekend he was here.  Ummm...yep...nervous...

The craziest part is that we were already on standby for a 15 year old girl whose foster family is going to North Carolina this weekend.  DSS hasn't been able to reach her bio mom to get permission for her to go along.  We were kind of nervous, because she is deaf and none of us knows sign language (other than Jesus Loves Me and the alphabet), but now that seems so easy.  There is just such a tremendous need for safe, loving homes for children, how could we say no?  But on the other hand, will this be as big of a mistake as taking in a long-term child Charlie's own age was (our other key parameter)?

By this we know love, that He laid down his life for us,

and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers.

But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need,

yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him?

Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.

(I John 3:16-18)

A little bit in love...

We have our first baby! (or as Charlie reminds me, our second...).  L will be with us until Monday while his foster parents are out of town.

He is 1 year old (not sure how many months) and absolutely precious -- delightfully cuddly, just like Charlie was, and perfectly "energetic" as his daycare teacher described his day.  Plus, I get to carry him, which I have missed so much since Charlie has gotten big!

My text to Jason from the daycare parking lot pretty well sums it up...Monday could be rough.


"He is just as sweet as he looks. And when I asked him if he could come home with us he ran into my heart (was supposed to say arms....but possibly the best typo ever) and gave me a hug :-) and he can say Charlie :-) we're good."

Every good and every perfect gift is from above,

coming down from the Father of lights

with whom there is no variation or shadow

due to change.

(James 1:17)

Such Need

As of  Thursday afternoon, our expectation was that M would not meet with her foster mom until sometime Monday or Tuesday, and while we were all a bit frustrated with the delays, we started making weekend plans and M actually treated us all to a delicious, home made meatloaf dinner!

Then Friday morning around 8:20 I received an apologetic call from DSS.  She "should" have called me Thursday afternoon, but didn't.  M had an appointment at 10:00 in North Charleston at the DSS office to sit down with her foster mom!  Ummm... at this point M was still asleep, and Charlie and I were supposed to be heading off to swim lessons in less than an hour!  Thankfully, mom was more than happy to take Charlie to swim lessons, so M and I were able to make it up to North Charleston with time to spare.

As we drove, we discussed her concerns and questions...all of which boiled down to wondering why her foster mom would have left her in the hospital a week longer than necessary and still not been there at discharge.  I couldn't come up with any possible reasons, but encouraged M to keep asking questions in the meeting until she was comfortable that she understood.

M was definitely ready to forgive her foster mom and move back home, but over the course of the past few weeks it seems many of her counselors, advisers and handlers had been throwing around the word "abandoned".  After M brought it up, I asked her if she had felt abandoned, and she said no, but that everyone else seemed to think that that was what this was.  While I can definitely understand why those of us on the outside would feel that way, it struck me that while well-meaning, all of these adults throwing around that term was in fact hindering M and her foster mom's reconciliation, not helping it.  We are so quick to label situations from an observer's perspective, that we often forget the impact those labels can have.

I do not now, nor do I think I will ever understand exactly what happened over the last few weeks, but I do know that having a foster child for a few weeks is hard -- I can't imagine what it's like to have more than one for years.  I also know that disobedience in your child is frustrating -- I can only imagine what serious, negligent, trust-breaking disobedience in a 17 year old is like.  And finally, I know that when a difficult foster child is removed from your home following a shocking situation, there is a lot of guilt and loss, but there is also a hidden relief -- I can't imagine how hard it would be to swallow your own pride and fears and jump through the DSS hoops in an effort to get that same child back into your home.

None of us had a right to judge M's foster mom or M in this situation, and rather than accusing, labeling and assigning blame, our job was and is to love, support and pray for them both -- along with all the other broken, overwhelmed and lost families I watched  queue in and out of the DSS office while I waited in the lobby for their meeting to end.

The meeting went very well.  M is content with her foster mom's explanation and was excited to move home, which she did only two hours later -- surprisingly, DSS can move quickly at times!

Our little family is a mix of emotions this morning.  We miss M and hope to see her soon and often, but we also feel relieved to be back to our little routine and have the uncertainty and expectation of reconciliation behind us.

Watching and listening to the realities of so many Charleston families yesterday morning impacted me, though.  There are many days when I would love to just put foster care behind us.  It doesn't look like it's going to grow our family like we'd hoped, every call is certain to bring upheaval, and it's honestly, just really hard.  But there are so many families in need -- not just the broken ones who lose their children, but the brave ones who are trying to stand in that gap, but are only human, themselves.

Therefore, do not pronounce judgment before the time,
before the Lord comes, who will bring to light
the things now hidden in darkness
and will disclose the purposes of the heart.
Then each one will receive his commendation from God.

(I Corinthians 4:5)

Uncertainty

I am a planner to a fault, and honestly I tend to look at this personality quirk as a strength.  Most of the time I'm prepared for whatever happens to happen...and if I'm not specifically prepared, I usually have other supplies that can make do or buffer time in the schedule to make up for the unplanned.

In truth, thus far in the life the biggest drawbacks to my planning obsession have been annoying Jason (which surely is character-building for him) and getting annoyed myself when things don't go according to plan -- both fairly minor.

Foster care has turned all of that upside down!  From day one we've known that we could get a call to welcome a child at any moment, but slowly we've realized that more likely than not they come on Thursdays (no idea why).  And of course, each child's identity has been completely unknown, but leading up to M we've had five boys, four of whom were within a year of Charlie's age.  And what about the indeterminate durations?  Oh, we've had arrival and departure dates for everyone but C, because they have been respite.

So this world of unknowns has actually been fairly predictable or at least manageable until M.  Yes, the call was still on Thursday (so odd!), but first of all she is not only a "she," but also 17 years old -- very different.  Next, we've had three appointments at MUSC (one a computer mistake), five trips to the pharmacy and two unplanned visits by DSS, all the while expecting any day to be "the day" M gets to go home.

The little we do know is that there was a meeting of all her various caseworkers at 9:30 this morning, and another meeting (players unknown) at noon.  The next step should be for M to meet with her foster mom to discuss any unresolved concerns, anger, fear, etc, in preparation for reconciliation.  Theoretically all of these meetings were supposed to occur on Monday, so while we are hanging out around home in case we get the call, I don't think M is any more optimistic than I am -- and with tomorrow being Friday, I have to wonder if she's going to have to wait until next week...

If that's the case, Jason will get to make an unplanned trip to Best Buy with M and help her buy a computer, printer, tablet, etc (whatever package they pick), with the $1500 provided her by DSS.  I love that they provide these resources for kids in foster care, but don't envy the pressure on Jason in helping a girl he's known less than a week make such a specific and long-term decision.

I honestly thought I was rolling with all these uncertainties fairly well until yesterday afternoon.  Finally allowed to walk around a bit without my boot (and coordinating 3" flip flop), I have spent the past 24 hours realizing how horrifically dirty my floors are. Obviously, floor cleanliness falls at the bottom of "important" concerns, but when while trying to see the grit I felt on travertine tile I noticed the pink ook on the shower tile, and realized that two weeks in a boot means two weeks of sludge and sand and mess on every surface in the house (two weeks of being at home at least twice as much as normal), I finally felt the weight of all the unknown and unforeseen and uncontrollable.

I plan to strap my boot back on and get the house vacuumed as soon as I successfully coerce Jason into bathing the sandy dog and scrubbing the grungy bathrooms, so we will once again take control of the little bits that we can.  And I guess I'll just have to let go of the rest.  It's truly humbling to realize how much work God is doing on me through all of this.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,

and do not lean on your own understanding.

In all your ways acknowledge Him,

and He will make your paths straight.

(Proverbs 3:5-6)

Busy Week

M is an absolute delight.  She is kind, respectful, quiet, and seems to truly enjoy playing with Charlie.  It has obviously been an adjustment to have a 17 year old around for the past few days, but we truly couldn't have imagined a sweeter guest -- while negotiating the different freedoms and rules for an almost-adult vs. our standard 7 year old boy is different, it's really not bad at all.

She probably thinks we're nuts though, as life would have it, since she arrived we've been to the beach, a Reggae festival, the water park, church, Grandma's, out on the boat, the library...and more.  It's been an insanely busy few days, and I think we're all starting to feel it.  Thankfully, we have nowhere to be until noon today, though.

Added into all of our family events, M has daily doctor's appointments down at MUSC to follow up on her time in the hospital and start working towards reconciliation with her foster mom.  Both M and her mom want to reconcile (she's the only foster home M has ever been in -- 3 years!), but it is a process and will be emotional for both.

M's wonderful relationship with Charlie is serving as double blessing for handling her appointments, because he loves her so much he is happy to hang out in waiting rooms and sit in downtown traffic for her.  I can't imagine how tough it would be on all of us otherwise.

We are very hopeful for M's reconciliation sessions and that she'll be home to her foster mom sooner than later, but we are really going to miss her when it happens.  Of course, she and Charlie are already making future plans, so I think we may have a long term friendship germinating.

"But be sure to fear the Lord and serve Him faithfully with all your heart;

consider what great things He has done for you."

(I Samuel 12:24)

It's a Girl!

We're getting our first female guest today!  Part of me is really excited, but part of me is terrified.  It's not just a girl, but a teenage girl.  I have honestly been intimidated by teenage girls since I was one, so it's a little daunting.

Charlie, however, is elated.  He's hoping that she'll like playing tag, figuring that she might not like basketball and baseball as much as a boy would (which his PE teacher will be amused to hear!).

Anyway, M should be here sometime this afternoon.  She is between foster homes due to breaking the trust of her foster mother of three years.  They had a huge falling out, M ended up in the MUSC psychiatric ward for harming herself (not seriously-- mainly for space), and now the foster mom won't answer Bair's calls.  I can't imagine what either M or the foster mom is going through.

We have no real idea how long she'll be here -- it's until they find her a permanent foster home...which could be a day or could be a couple weeks.  The uncertainty is frightening, but overshadowed by the fears of what to do if she has a cell phone, how to handle the fact she has a boyfriend, how to respond if she's as surly as I was at 17...

Jason left this one entirely up to me, and I have no doubt we were supposed to say "yes".... I just hope I feel the same way in a couple days.

Interestingly, due to my sprained ankle, I have done nine of my catch-up lesson from the Biblical Counseling Center over the past week, including Counseling Self-Injury and three sessions on Crisis Counseling. Not that I feel confident to "counsel" her, but I feel sure God used this time to prepare me to better love M.  Amazing!

Casting all your anxieties upon Him, 

because He cares for you.

I Peter 5:7

Peaceful

As we wait for Z's ride to school this morning and I realize that he'll be leaving tomorrow, it's bittersweet.  We are all pretty worn out from going and doing so much these past couple weeks, but Z has been far easier and sweeter than we could have dreamed.

In fact, the boys have played better than Charlie does with anyone.  They have spent every spare moment riding bikes and climbing and swinging and sitting in the broken toy car -- all deep in the midst of some fantastic escapade or another.  While Z is much quieter than Charlie in conversation, we've found ourselves quite grateful for empty houses on either side, the sweet boy screams like no other on the tire swing.  They have had one or two arguments and a smattering of tattling, but honestly far less than a typical playdate.  In fact, I'm hoping that Mrs. Dot will be interested in Z coming for a sleepover a couple times over the summer -- these boys are going to miss each other terribly come tomorrow afternoon.

The house is in one piece and moderately tidy, George has had more love over the past two weeks than his 5 years in total, I feel confident that both boys will ace their spelling tests today, and we've only forgotten Z's medication once all visit, so altogether it's been a very successful, very peaceful and very humbling visit.  

May God be gracious to us and bless us

and make His face shine upon us,

that Your way may be known on earth,

Your saving power among all nations.

Let the people praise you, O God; 

let all the peoples praise you!

(Psalm 67:1-3)

Bored...

So...I was going to say it's not a complaint, but when is saying you're bored ever not a complaint?  So I guess it is a little bit...but not really.  I just cannot remember the last time I was bored, even on a long trip or in a meeting.  It's been years.

I guess it's just that I have nothing to do for the first time in forever.  Baseball was cancelled due to lightning and the boys have been playing upstairs since we walked in the door -- an hour and a half ago!  What mom ever has an hour and a half of free time at home with a child awake in the house???  I didn't know this was possible!

I hadn't planned to accomplish anything tonight since we were supposed to be at baseball.  And since I don't have anything defrosted, I made the boys' evening by promising mac and cheese, so I have nothing to do...

I know, I could start laundry or read a book or something, but I don't really need to, so...  I did empty the dishwasher.

I guess I just assumed that if Charlie were occupied in the afternoons I would be, too -- like there was some hidden list of things that I had been putting off doing while I was mothering/entertaining/chaufering/cooking, but nope.

Maybe I'll have a cup of tea...that sounds like something I would wish I could do if I were too busy.

Interestingly, I couldn't find a Bible verse about boredom (at least not a positive one), which got me to thinking that maybe boredom is just self-centeredness in a time of peace and rest.  Maybe the people that don't get bored aren't necessarily busier than the rest of us, just less self-focussed.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden,

and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,

for I am gentle and lowly in heart,

and you will find rest for your souls.

For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Matthew 11:28-30

Through the storm...

I really had no idea we were still going through it... the storm of guilt, fear, anger and self-doubt that resulted from C's stay back in January and February.

You see, while the decision for him to go was out of our hands, I had desperately wanted him to leave from the day he came.  It was more than I could handle.  I tried.  I tried so hard to be a temporary mother to him and I checked all the boxes, doing the very best I could for him with school and reading and doctors and diet and exercise and everything, but it was so much more than I could handle.

Jason and I have discussed it briefly since and if not for the violence that last day and Lydia arriving just moments later, before I could convince myself that it wasn't a dangerous situation (after all, we'd had "minor" violent situations in the days before), we would never have sent C away.  And I don't think that I could have kept trying for three more months.

I had judged his previous family so harshly for sending C away with just a few months to go before he should get to go home -- after they had cared for him for over a year.  I felt better than them, like my love was stronger, my obedience was more true.  The only thing superior about me was my pride.

Why is all of this so fresh and real now?  Because I just realized we didn't actually come through the storm until this very morning when Jason kissed and hugged me goodbye and we agreed that having Z with us is good.  We are calm.  We are confident.  We can do this.  Opening up our home again was the right thing to do.

Part of me wanted nothing more than to quit foster care forever.  The guilt at failing C and the fear of what future placements might bring threatened to overwhelm me.  Jason is the one who knew we needed to press on, that we couldn't bow out in the depths.  His faith and love and obedience were God's tools to finally pull us out of the storm.

I don't need to be strong enough or wise enough or loving enough for this.  Jesus is perfect strength and perfect wisdom and perfect love.  I just need to follow Him through the storm.  Thank God He has given me a husband who refuses to let me sink.

My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus blood and righteousness.

I dare not trust the sweetest frame

But wholly trust in Jesus name.

Christ alone; Cornerstone.

Weak made strong; in the Savior's love.

Through the storm, He is Lord,

Lord of all.

When Darkness seems to hide is face,

I rest on His unchanging grace.

In every high and stormy gale

My anchor holds within the veil,

My anchor holds within the veil.

Christ alone, Cornerstone

Weak made strong; in the Savior's love.

Through the storm, He is Lord,

Lord of all.

When He shall come with trumpet sound

Oh, may I then in Him be found;

Dressed in His righteousness alone,

Faultless to stand before the throne.

Christ alone, Cornerstone

Weak made strong; in the Savior's love.

Through the storm, He is Lord,

Lord of all.

(Cornerstone; Hillsong United)

Back at it

Unofficially, our home has been closed since C left back in February.  At first it was intentional, to regroup and figure out if our family is equipped for this particular good work.
After a while though it was less intentional and more comfortable.  We were back to our team of 3 -- full of ups and downs, but something we understand.

Finally Jason and I decided that we owed it to each other, Charlie and all of the time and energy put into the licensing process to give it all one more try.

Interestingly enough, within a couple of days of deciding we needed to let Bair know that we are "open" -- but before we actually got around to doing so -- we received a call for a long term placement.  It was for twin brothers, six years old.  This will sound harsh, but it was an easy "no."  We are committed to our decision not to put Charlie in a position of being the odd man out in his own family.

Within a few days we received another call for long term placement.  This time for one boy, but 14 years old.  They thought that after our wonderful experience with T during the flood last year, we might be a good fit.  This was another easy "no".  Following the power struggles and emotional upheaval of having two boys the same age, we recommitted ourselves to our initial requirement that any child be younger than Charlie -- for his safety and for the sake of peace.

Then about a week ago we received a call for an 11 day respite for another 6 year old boy.  Jason and I had decided we would be open to various ages for respite, so I was open to it, and it turns out it's Z, the little boy who stayed with us just three days after T left -- our second respite ever.

It's honestly been so long and we've had so many 5-6 year old boys, that my memories of that weekend are limited to the first evening when he arrived and a general positive feeling that it all went well.

Feeling like this is God's way of either easing us back into respite or possibly showing us that our season of foster care is coming to an end, we agreed.

Charlie and I will pick up Z tomorrow evening after piano and we will all dive back in.  I would like to say that I am excited, and I am looking forward to seeing Z again and how he's grown, but I'm really nervous.  Rather than painting our last placement in a rosy glow, time has served to emphasize the unrest and struggle -- to the degree that I have almost forgotten the joy of our earlier respites.

I know that we are equipped for this good work.  I believe we are doing the right thing.  I hope that we will all have the right attitude to bless Z and accept the blessings he will bring.

All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching,

rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness,

so that the servant of God may be 

thoroughly equipped

for every good work.

(II Timothy 3:16-17)

All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness,

Unexpected

Tuesday evening our expected meeting with C's caseworker ended in a very unexpected way.  She was coming to finalize the documentation for C's placement in our home, but we never got to that.

As we discussed C's behavior and his escalating pattern of violence and lying, she determined that he needed to be moved to a home without other children for Charlie's and his own safety.  As much as Jason and I understand and agree with the decision, it has been a very traumatic few days.

We trust that the caseworker has C's and our best interest at heart -- and that God is ultimately in charge, but the feelings of guilt and failure and fear for his future are undeniable. We are so confused about why God would bring C into our home then pull him out after such a short time.  Is it possible that the love and effort our family and the school poured into him over the past few weeks can overcome the traumatic effect of the move on him? My mind says no, but my faith tells me yes.

Our little family has so much love and support surrounding us, and I just have to continue to pray that C's next home will be the best next step towards reunification with his father -- that his next home will be better equipped to deal with his behaviors and needs than we were.

He heals the brokenhearted

    and binds up their wounds.

(Psalm 147:3)

In Charge

Would it really have mattered if Moses put the jewels on the priests' ephod in a different order?  Or added an extra light to the lampstand?  Or made the altar a half cubit shorter?  

Would it have changed who God is?  Or made Him unable to come down to the mercy seat?  Or nullified His plan of salvation through Jesus? Of course not! God has been God: almighty, sovereign, omnipotent, perfect, unchanging, just, etc, etc since before time began, so Moses' execution of the rules in Exodus 28 and 29 didn't alter God's plan.

Did Moses following the rules save the Israelites?  Did it make them obedient? Clearly not! They wandered around in the wilderness for forty years and still needed Jesus when they finally made it into the promise land.

So why did God give Moses so many rules?  Why was He so specific and exacting?

I am not a theologian, so I am sure that I missing a huge part of this, but as I read these chapters this morning I noticed a few simple words, "And they shall know that I am the Lord their God."  God did this because He is in charge --  to show the Israelites who in the relationship was the almighty, sovereign, omnipotent One.

Bottom line: He had created them, so whether they preferred red cord over blue or whether or not beryl was convenient to find had nothing to do with it.  He is God and He is in charge.

What does this have to do with fostering (or parenting in general)?

One of our biggest struggles with C (and with Charlie, too, for that matter) is conveying to him the fact that we are in charge -- that he has to follow our rules.  We can come up with all sorts of reasons -- for their safety, comfort, "own good", etc, but when it comes down to it, both boys have to obey our rules because we are their parents (legally or biologically, still their parents), and God put us in charge of them (Ephesians 6:1), and since He created all of us, He makes the rules.  

Amazingly, this is much easier for them to understand than our explanations of safety and growth and maturity and priority and all the rest.  God made them and put us in charge.  Done. 

But, easy to understand doesn't mean easy to remember -- or easy to follow, so Jason and I find ourselves repeating this truth often, when C bites or steals or lies or whines (all against the rules in our house) or when Charlie hits or tattles or screams hateful words or taunts (also all against the rules in our house).  And interestingly enough, reminding them so often has been reminding me.

So regardless of my political feelings, God has personally put every governmental authority in place (back to that sovereignty/omnipotent thing - Romans 13:1), so even if I can see two miles down 17 Highway from the left turn lane, I still have no right to turn left on red.  Yes, if I think the law is wrong, I can start a petition and contact the powers that be and try to get a different type of light installed, but unless I do all that I have to sit there and wait. Done.

What if I don't want to fess up to forgetting something or making a dumb mistake, can I disguise the truth to make myself (or even someone else) feel better? Nope (Exodus 20:9).   

What about when I want to ask background questions of the DSS workers that Jason has told me not to ask for my own good, can I ask?  No - because Jason is in charge of our home -- God says so (Colossians 3:18).

But can I start a campaign to change God's laws and allow "white lies" or put me in charge of our household when I disagree with Jason?  Nope (that whole unchanging thing -- Hebrews 13:8).  

It is so much easier to know something is true, even believe it and implement it with your children than to actually live it.

So, the next time I am just sitting there at a red light in the left turn lane on 17 Hwy at West Oak, and the person behind me is yelling and making rude gestures, I guess I can just say, "God told me to."

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth."

(Genesis 1:1)

Co-MVPs

This may have been my tensest Super Bowl Sunday ever.  I really didn't care much which team won and I was surrounded by friends who know and love me, so what could have possibly been so stressful?  I took the boys to a Super Bowl party solo.

Jason had to fly to DC for work this evening, and we'd been invited to go watch the Super Bowl at the Lakemacher's with the Townsends and a couple other school/church families.  We'd RSVPd before we knew Jason would be gone, and I don't know whether it was bravado or foolishness, but I decided to stick to our plans.  Of course, everyone there knows both boys and all about the situation, so there were plenty of fill in "dads" to help out.

But the boys didn't need them.  They were both really good.  I actually got to sit and snack and watch some of the game and a few commercials!  They both ate.  Neither of them hurt themselves or anyone else.  They didn't fight.  They played relatively nice with the other kids.  In fact, C was an angel.  He sat doing puzzles in the living room and a couple times went over and very sweetly played with a baby who was there.

Then when it was time for us to leave long before everyone else (I was not about to sacrifice our bedtime routine on a Sunday night when Jason is gone), they got their shoes, gave about 95 high fives to the one middle school boy who was there and skipped to the car.

I am astounded and so very grateful.  Grateful to the the friends who invited us over and assured me they'd have my back if all hell had broken out.  Grateful to the boys who rose to the occasion.  Grateful to Jason who must have been praying harder this evening than ever before in his life.  And grateful to God for growing my faith bit by bit these past few weeks.

"I believe; help my unbelief!"

(Mark 9:24b)

Confusing

Jason and I had no idea what to expect today when we met C's dad and grandparents...and we're honestly still not sure what to think -- not about them, but just about everything.  It's all so confusing.

We dropped Charlie off at Grandma's for some much anticipated one-on-one time and took C to a local burger place.  We honestly weren't sure who all would be coming other than Grandma.

C didn't have much to say about the meeting even when we asked specific questions and seemed to get a bit antsy when we arrived early.  Grandma showed up right on time, but alone.  Grandpa arrived a few minutes later and explained that they had met there because she had come straight from a class.

C was happy to see them but still a bit quiet.  Before long Grandma pulled me over to the side to find out how he was really doing, and C seemed more comfortable bouncing back and forth between the boys' table and girls' table than he had been when we were all together.

Just as C was finishing his lunch, a man walked in with eyes only for C and a huge grin on his face.  He quickly came over and scooped him up, and I just caught a glance of perhaps the biggest real smile I've ever seen on C's face, before he was buried in dad's arms.

It was clear that they were thrilled to see each other, and we all sat for well over an hour talking and laughing and catching up.  Dad was very honest about how he ended up in this situation, had brought a couple pair of shoes he thought might finally fit, quizzed us about whether we'd found a barber and informed us of C's hair type peculiarities, then offered more than once to pay for the haircut and also anything else we might need for C. We assured him that C had arrived well-equipped, but Dad still seemed to feel a need to provide that he couldn't resolve.  He talked of the sports he looked forward to putting C in, and how they had worked together on school and other things when he was home.

As the visit was winding down C clamped himself around Dad's leg, refusing to let go. Everyone laughed, but there was sorrow in it, too.

C was better behaved and more engaged than we've ever seen him.  Replaying the whole thing in my mind, it seems like a straight-forward family reunion, but nothing is straight-forward in foster care.

We have been told by the "experts" that C doesn't want to reunite with his biological family.  We've been told by some experts that Dad will definitely complete his treatment and be ready for April, while others subtly convey the opposite.

Dad, himself, said that he has finished the anger management portion, and we should hear from DSS soon to coordinate unsupervised visits.  Then he stated that he expects to complete the rest of his treatment in four to six weeks, but when I asked Grandma point blank if she thinks we should be preparing C for reunification in April she was hesitant, eventually suggesting that we just speak as little about it as possible, "just in case."

While C didn't want to let go of Dad when it was time to go, as soon as he was in the car he was perfectly content to leave with us and chatted about what he would play the whole ride home.

Jason and I really don't know what to think or feel about any of it.  We know that it was much less awkward than we'd expected and we saw that there is as much love as we could hope, but as we go about our weekend chores there is a sense of confusion and quiet about us.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart,

and do not lean on your own understanding.

In all your ways acknowledge Him,

and He will make your paths straight."

(Proverbs 3:5-6)

Training Day

I am fairly sure that no foster parent has ever said that Foster Parent Training is their favorite part of fostering.  Most of the time it's on an inconvenient evening when you're already sleepy and covers depressing, upsetting, complicated or boring topics.

Today's training was from 11 to 1, so I had to take off work, and the topic was how to fill out the new Medicaid logs.  It sounded horrible -- but it was required, and actually turned out to be kind of great.

First thing's first, Jason was able to come at the same time, despite the schedule, so it was almost a date.  In fact, we preceded the training with a late breakfast at Early Bird and followed it up with a child and list free wander through Costco, where yes, we bought things we didn't need, but no one begged for anything or cried and we didn't forget anything (only because we didn't go for anything specific).

Surprisingly, though, the training was good, too.  Since the Medicaid processes just changed, it was packed full of other foster parents -- other people experiencing what we are (and much worse), other people who are frustrated and exhausted, other people who also needed to be reminded why they started doing this in the first place.

And amazingly, Medicaid Log training reminded us all.  "Standard" foster children don't require extensive documentation, but Bair specializes in Therapeutic Foster Care, so we are required to document the behaviors and interventions that occur each day as part of their treatment in our homes.  It's not a fun process, but it gets to the point.

These children need more from us.  They behave worse, understand less, control less and hurt more than most other children we've ever met.  That is why we're doing this.

Plus, to be in a government mandated training class that opens in prayer, echoes with laughter and brings fellowship and support, where the State Director knows everyone's name and genuinely cares about the children in each home, was not what we expected. Plus to experience all this while literally leaning on my partner in crime in the process was perfect.

The boys were even well-behaved in aftercare (as we leisurely wandered Costco!  Hah!). Of course, they're now each spending 10 minutes in their rooms for fighting on the way home from school -- but that's just enough time for me to type an update while Jason pours me a glass of wine.  Cheers!

"For where two or three are gathered in my name,

there am I among them."

(Matthew 18:20)

So...when Jason when to set the captives free, Charlie had been bathing in sanitizer and Cedric had exploded an ink pen all over himself!  It's amazing how much easier that all is to take with Jason home...

Really Big Deal

The boys just scooted by my desk to aftercare and we had no warnings...for either boy...all day!  This is a unheard of in our house -- for Charlie it's amazing, but for C it's a miracle.  It essentially means they didn't speak out of turn or disrupt the class or misbehave in the hall all day long!

So, to be honest, I didn't believe them, but when Mrs Babb came by a few minutes later, she confirmed.  In her words, "it's like we've turned a page and he's doing what he's told."

Amazing!

Last night was a tough night -- during the day yesterday C found a push pin and poked two other students with it in Spanish class.  Then at home he refused to tell Jason the truth about what had happened (despite the fact that I saw the whole thing), so it was a long evening of discussing truth and trust and responsibility with lots of whining and denying and long silences.

Finally, C fessed up though, and Jason thought he'd really gotten through to him.  Maybe he did?  Maybe all of our structure and rules and expectations and love are making an inroad?

Now, lest I get ahead of myself, the boys were throwing elbows on their way down the hall to be the first ones to aftercare...so they are still the same boys we know and love with the same struggles and pride.  But they're learning and growing in the right direction...just like Jason and me.

"But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. 

To Him be the glory both now and to the day of eternity.  Amen."

(II Peter 3:18)

Some Good

Jason was recently asked by perhaps our most faithful reader if there was "any good" in our current adventure -- making me realize that in my efforts to be honest and true to the experience I have been leaving out some of the better aspects.

A few snippets:

• C is learning to read and has taken very well to his resource teacher at school
• Charlie has stayed on green three days in a row in school, caught up on all his back work and appears to feel a heightened responsibility to his teacher
• Both boys have a playmate who shares their love of remote control cars, nerf guns and tire swings
• Our family is praying more honestly and often than ever before, listening more openly and submissively than ever before and trusting more wholely and faithfully than ever before

We are truly blessed.  And while the verse below is taken completely out of context, as we are not currently preparing to flee Egypt, it struck me as so perfectly applicable to our current life...

"We do not know with what we must serve the Lord until we arrive there."

(Exodus 10:26b)

Faithless

It is amazing to me how much effort and patience and repetition it takes to get two little boys out of bed, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, beds made and out the door.  Amazing!

And the sheer work and frustration involved has shown me something very surprising about myself -- two things actually.  I am a chronical over-achiever but one who focuses on very low achievements.  I expect myself to excel at whatever it is I undertake, but I don't undertake things that I don't think I can do.

In school, literature and languages came easily to me, but math and science were hard -- so I majored in Spanish Literature and took my last math and science classes my first and second semesters of college.  I am very awkward socially, but organization and tasks come easily to me, so avoid any social situation where I don't have a defined role and responsibility.  

As a mom I've never expected myself to "do it all", content with a dusty house, but frantic about clutter; teaching my son to read and know his Bible before kindergarten, but never playing catch with him.

Lest this sound like a pity party for all of my "unrealized" potential, let me state that I am exceptionally grateful for exactly where God has brought me, but I'm also perfectly aware that it has much more to do with His work in me and the man who picked me, and some reason believed that I wanted to be more than I was and challenged me socially, spiritually and emotionally.  And then of course the little freckle-nosed boy who thinks I can do anything he needs me to do, because I'm "mom".

Inside it's not that I'm a quitter, but a non-starter who sets exceptionally low goals for herself, exceeds them minimally then retreats to the couch with a book and cup of tea or Dateline and a glass of wine. The part that I don't understand is that that is still me. That is still what I want to be, but I've undertaken something so much bigger and I'm not excelling or even liking it very much -- but somehow still getting it done without crying myself to sleep or resenting the choice or the child.

If I were to answer someone honestly, I don't really like long term foster care -- it's not fun or particularly rewarding or most importantly to my selfish heart, easy.  It's actually very difficult to think about clicking the "Publish" button (and I'm not sure I will without some severe editing of the truth), because I don't really want anyone who reads this to know the truth: I don't really want to be more than I am.  I don't want to just keep my eyes above the waves doing something important; I want to walk on water doing something easy.  That's what I've always done.  That gets me snuggled into my couch cushions by 8:15 every evening and lets me sleep peacefully until 6:00, without a care or concern.  

Thankfully (I think),  at least for this season, that is not God's plan for me.  He has used me as I am, but He created me for more.

Though I am the one who pushed and planned for foster care, thinking it would be all sunshine and rainbows and patting myself on the back for a job well done, God has put a man in my life that sees more in me, expects more of me and encourages me to exceed my goals -- whether I like it or not, and two boys who need me to serve them, raise them and find joy in the work.

I am not the god of my life.  It's not up to me.  If I listen, obey and trust, I will end up better than I ever wanted to be, but it won't be easy or comfortable or exceptional.  And I won't really be doing any of it myself -- my strength can apparently keep me high and dry in a puddle, but only God's will keep my eyes above the waves in His work.

"Fear not, for I am with you;

be not dismayed, for I am your God;

I will strengthen you, I will help you,

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

(Isaiah 41:10)

Moment of Grace

Whether it was the one-on-one time with either Jason or me last night, good night rests, the shared responsibility of cleaning the playroom, the shared torture of now being responsible for cleaning the toilets (I refuse to do that for two six year olds who have no aim!) or maybe just tremendous grace from God since I am flying solo this morning and have a birthday party to take them to this afternoon, I don't know but the boys are getting along!

They've made their beds, each cleaned a toilet and are slowly wading through the playroom category by category (costumes, tools, nerf darts, duplos, vehicles, weapons...).

I'm not feeling confident enough to actually go take a shower...but I have been shopping for campers on craigslist which is my favorite hobby (no, we have no intention of upgrading, but they're so fun to look at!).  And I've been alone in the study with my cup of tea!  For over twenty minutes!  And  my toilets are all clean!

I needed today.  They needed today.  And Jason needed for us to have had today when he gets home later.

"The Lord bless you and keep you;

the Lord make His face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;

the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace."

(Numbers 6:24-26)

So...ten minutes ago when I started looking for a Bible verse relations took a decided turn for the worse.  Since then I have confiscated three nerf guns and a halloween pumpkin full of nerf darts, a play canteen full of real water and a crayon on a string.  The boys are still cleaning the playroom, but until it is complete they are not allowed to speak to one another.  Sigh... at least it's still quiet.

Bright Spots

Charlie has stayed on "Green" at school for two days in a row now -- which hasn't happened since long before C came to stay.

I don't know if it's due to a generous dose of mercy on the part of Mrs Babb or if he's starting to put it all together and recognize the impact of disruptive behavior on the people around him, but it was exactly the news I needed.

In other positive news, both Mrs Babb and I got the Vanderbuilt forms faxed over to MUSC to start C's IEP process.  He, however, had another very rough day -- but she didn't seem quite as overwhelmed by it, which is a blessing.

"I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."

(Philippians 3:14)

Truth?

We're really not sure what to believe in all this.  It's not that it seems that anyone is lying per se, but we are finding that all of the different agencies and services and organizations that have input into C's life have differing opinions and at times agendas -- ranging from the character of his Dad, what happened before foster care, the environment of his last foster home, why his meds were increased monthly last fall, his intelligence, his routine, his potential...everything.

We find ourselves in the position of making decisions for a little boy whom we barely know, who ranges from sweet and silly to defensive and whiny to manic and frantic.  As expected, time of day plays a huge role in this, but not conclusively.  After an extremely frustrating day for his teacher and my mom (she had to watch the boys so Jason and I could attend our annual mandatory medication & behavior training last night), I find myself wondering if the good day on Wednesday even happened.

And of course, last night's training reminded us that from a "behavior intervention" perspective, we are doing absolutely everything wrong...  In truth, it was a good reminder of methods and strategies to use, but it was disheartening to feel like we've likely only been making things worse for both boys the past two weeks.

I am holding out hope that today will be a better day.  Charlie stayed on green all day yesterday, and while Mrs Babb is concerned that he has recently started daydreaming and fallen very behind in his work, we had a good talk about it and I am optimistic that he'll use the time she's set aside for him today to catch up.  C had a good day Wednesday, so I just have to hope that it will happen again...plus after yesterday Mr Philpot pulled him aside and explained to him his responsibility for his own actions and words, and that despite the fact that everyone is on his side and wants him to succeed, he ultimately has to choose to do so.

I have to hold onto these hopes or the walk into the office at 10:00 will feel more like walking the plank.

This evening I'm going to drop C off with Jason for a boy's night dinner and Charlie and I are going to a pre-scheduled playdate.  They are each jealous of the other's plans, but that seems normal.  I am hoping that the bit of a break this evening will help me power through tomorrow while Jason is fishing...that and the prospect of a birthday party for a school friend -- that will be filled with supportive, loving adults who know us, know C and want us all to succeed.

It's funny...we are clearly surrounded - on one side by "experts" who advise and instruct and on the other by friends who love and protect. Interesting that only one side seems to truly be on C's (and therefore, Jason's, Charlie's and my) side.

"Two are better than one, because they have good reward for their toil.  

For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow.  

But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!"

(Ecclesiastes 4:9-10)

Plain & Simple

By yesterday evening, I wondered if all of our efforts at the school were for naught.  C refused to participate in any of the lessons Mrs Babb tried with him as part of the group or individually and failed to follow classroom rules.  Then in Spanish, he did the same for me.  Plus, he and Charlie both got in trouble for talking during class and kicking each other during lunch.

Amazingly while Charlie managed to passed his piano song C had a great reading lesson, and  -- even sounding out a few short words.  All three of us were thrilled with these accomplishments, leaving me wondering if our efforts were better concentrated at home -- maybe having C at JICS was going to be too much for everyone involved.

After a few tears (mostly mine) I explained it to C as clearly as I could -- if he doesn't follow directions and participate in class, he can't stay there.  He doesn't have to know the answers, but he has to try or ask for help.  And I instructed him to replace his default, "I don't know" which he repeats over and over in increasing volume and shrillness with a simple, "Please help me."

I also explained to Charlie that even though he has been at JICS for a year and a half, he, too, could find himself kicked out if his conduct doesn't improve -- getting written up every single day means that his behavior is unacceptable and not going unnoticed!

As I dropped them both off at school this morning, my hopes weren't very high.  We had reiterated the simple truth time and again through the evening and morning and found every possible chance to compliment C for trying and Charlie for behaving, but my expectations were still pretty low.

So I am thrilled to report that while both got warnings for talking in line before lunch, neither lost any minutes and according to Mrs Babb, "C had a much better day."  She didn't say whether or not he actually did any work...but I'm going to just take it at face value.

Our goal right now is for an equally good Thursday (Team 1 is leading chapel in the morning, so their classroom time should be shorter than usual), and while I may be getting ahead of myself, I am really hoping that with enough preparation C can get a couple right on his Spelling Test on Friday.

Of course, those are our goals.  We have our first meeting with DSS in an hour...no telling what her goals for us may be...

"Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast,immovable, 

always abounding in the work of the Lord,

knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain."

(I Corinthians 15:58)

Once a Lion...

...always a Lion!

C gets to stay at JICS!  I had such mixed feelings before it was final, that I am surprised at the peace I feel now.

If I'm honest with myself, I never truly doubted that JICS was the best place for C, but I wasn't sure that his special needs wouldn't be too much for the class.  Part of me was feeling a need to protect Charlie and try to get him "a break" from our new life (after all, Jason and I get a break while we're at work), and as an astute friend pointed out, part of me was trying to protect his teacher.

It's so much more complicated than just the school our foster child will attend.  It's the class our biological child (who is struggling with this) is in, and the teacher is a friend of mine.   We love C, but he is hard.

Thankfully, God has had it all worked out all along.  C's records finally came through from his three previous schools!  Mrs Babb was back to do his assessment.  And most importantly, C feels a bit more at ease in his new world.

Based on everything Mrs Babb and Mr Schwartz decided to "foster" C.  His records clearly showed a bright but troubled boy who should never have been promoted from K5 last spring, so first grade has been much more than he could handle.  Over the next three months, they, along with Coach Townsend are going to pour into C -- not with the expectation of bringing him all the way up to grade level, but with the desire to close the gap as much as possible in the time we have.

Mrs Babb will identify his areas of particular need, and Coach Townsend will pull him out to give him one on one attention for those areas -- freeing up Mrs Babb to continue her routine with the rest of the class.  We all believe that C's struggles are due more to lack of trust and defiance than to inability, so as long as he can learn to trust us, and more importantly, learn to control his defiant heart, he can stay.

Jason and I were quietly at odds over this until the decision came down yesterday. Jason believed all along that JICS is the best place for C, but I was allowing selfishness to put my own desires and friendships ahead of C's best interest.  I am so incredibly grateful to work for a school that sees C's need and is committed to using the resources we have to help him.  Seeing the truth of that makes me realize that I underestimated everyone and gives me great peace in the decision.

Now that that is decided, I just need to find a dentist that accepts Medicaid, arrange for counseling, coordinate visitations and keep Charlie from drowning in all of this.  Or rather, I need to take a deep breath and let God do it...

"For it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure."

Philippians 2:13

Real

This is an email I just sent to mom to fill her in and give my opinion to her wondering what exactly Jesus meant when He told us to care for the widows and orphans.

It's pretty raw, but honest.  The honeymoon period may be ending already... it is definitely easier to believe in giving our lives to Christ than actually doing it.

I believe that Jesus meant that widows and orphans need homes -- safe, clean, Christ-filled homes.  Part of me would love to believe that he meant for us to send checks or walk to raise money or support institutions...but I think the bottom line is that to truly care for them, we have to love them -- love them as much as ourselves.  

It is terribly hard, and C had an especially frantic morning today.  I feel guilty sending him to school.  I'm hopeful that his medicine will kick in and he'll be able to maintain.  

Jason reached his breaking point yesterday afternoon, and God graciously pulled me back from the edge to be the calm one.    As hard as it is, I also think that Charlie seeing C at his worst, shows him there is a great need and a great difference.  I am hoping that it will help him step into a compassionate, caretaker role of "older" brother -- even though they are almost exactly the same age.  I think that would be good for him -- and possibly the only way we'll all keep our sanity.

It is very hard to believe in something so strongly and at the same time want to go back to our easy life.  I can honestly say, though, this whole experience has transformed our family's prayer life, dependence on God and awareness of our weakness.  It's truly life-changing.  I guess it's what James was talking about -- in those verses that sound so good until you live them.

"Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.  And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing."

(James 1:2-4)

Why?

God is faithful.  I know that, but I am always so very grateful when He blatantly reminds me.

This morning before church we read to Charlie and C the story of the Last Supper from our Jesus Storybook Bible, and C volunteered a couple of questions about why Jesus would choose to die and what tearing the bread had to do with that.

Later this morning at church a teenage boy was baptized, and C offered up many, many more questions, referencing "the God who made us" and "the devil" and more -- so many that Jason was concerned that the people around us might be annoyed.  I just plowed ahead though, trusting that pouring out the truth of Jesus' death and resurrection as represented by a believer's baptism was reason enough to ruffle a few feathers.

Finally, during communion, C wondered "is that really bread" and "is Jesus still dead," opening the door for me to tie back to our morning story and the baptism.

Now, we have certainly not seen a fruitful harvest this afternoon (in either of the boys), but this week has given us the opportunity to plant seed after seed after seed after seed (in both boys).  It has been grueling, back-breaking and emotional work, but we believe that there will one day be a harvest, whether in our time with C or even in our lifetime, we do not know.

At the start of church (as we were trying to quiet and settle and referee two strong-willed, disgruntled, six-year old boys) Jason mentioned that he has had many people ask why we would do this -- why would mess up the perfect little family the three of us had -- and my first reaction was to wonder the same.  God was faithful (and swift) to show me exactly why He told us to do this -- to plant seeds.  He will take care of the rest.

"And let us not grow weary of doing good, 

for in due season we will reap, 

if we do not give up."

(Galatians 6:9)

"I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.  

So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, 

but only God who gives the growth."

(I Corinthians 3:6)

Worst Case Scenario

At foster parent training we watched a bunch of horrible videos to prepare us for what foster children have been and continue to go through -- why they need the love and consistency and prayers that they do...even if it's only until they go back home to where it all started.

Then during our respite stints we never received many details about the boys' pasts.  We would get answers to our specific questions, but information seems to be on a "need to know" basis, and as we only had the boys from two to seven days each, we really didn't need to know much.

But now that we have C and he should be here at least 3 months, there is a lot we need to know.  To start with, we just found out yesterday that the name on his Medicaid card, prescriptions, etc, isn't the same as the name on his birth certificate, and neither matches the name the previous foster parents wrote on his logs...but that's just the beginning.

Until today, the only thing we knew about his parents was that his mom is out of the picture and his dad has anger issues.  We knew nothing about his life up until a year ago.  We didn't know what his current relationship is with his father or whether or not his father is following the court's plan to get him back.  I learned a lot today, though, and it's worse than I would have imagined -- forcing me to look at C and be absolutely amazed at his abilities and socialization -- and survival.

Back to the beginning, C is really missing his previous foster mom, the only mother he's ever known, so she agreed to meet us for lunch for a visit.  Since he and Charlie are definitely struggling to get along, I took C up to Chuck E Cheese and Jason took Charlie to run errands and go to the Middle School basketball games -- we're counting on absence making the hearts grow fonder.

Before C's previous mom arrived at Chuck E Cheese, our DSS caseworker finally called.  I got some information from her about C's dad's current involvement and their visits -- all of which sounded positive.  I also learned that he was approved for extra resources at his previous school right before Christmas, which would have been good to know before we introduced him to JICS.  Not to say that the school absolutely doesn't have the resources, but as small as we are, I'm not sure how it would work.

When C's previous foster mom did arrive, I peppered her with questions while C was off feeding tokens into machines.  According to her, he has only seen his dad twice in the past year, but he seems like a "nice" man.  And if that wasn't tragic enough, I also heard C's whole, long foster care story.

To keep this vague is difficult, but the general sense is that mom and dad met under undesirable circumstances, dad didn't find out about C until he was three years old, two years after C had been found wandering a parking lot and removed from mom's care.  During his three to four years in dad's care, C has been removed three times, including the last time a year ago yesterday.

In his almost seven years, this poor child has never known stability or consistency or safety or peace.

Charlie's struggle with this whole situation is real and intense right now, so much so that I've had many moments of wondering if the whole thing is causing too much stress and turmoil for him for us to proceed.  At the same time, one of our primary purposes in fostering is that we don't believe growing up as an only child is the best thing for him.  We believe he needs to share, compromise, get along, etc.

But what has become shamefully clear to me this week is that I got into foster care for me, my son, my household, my purposes.  While I thought about the children and their needs and God's commands, it was always in the sense of our family overcoming their tragedy and heroically serving God and everyone living happily ever after.

Now I see that this isn't about us, not about the changes and sacrifices we have to make over the next three months or lifetime (who's to say?), not about the maturing and learning and growing we'll do through the "experience," not even about the check on our list of ways we have obeyed God.

This is about a little boy who has never had one day of the security that Jason, Charlie and I have had our entire lives.  About him and the thousands of other children out there who have similar histories and uncertain futures in which they will likely be back and forth, in and out of biological parents', grandparents', friends' and foster families' homes until they age out at 18, surviving unthinkable abuse, uncertainty and loss.

I want to be able to write that this opening of my eyes has left me motivated and prepared to dedicate my life to C and countless future children to love and protect as God sees fit, but honestly, I'm daunted at the prospect of 11 more weeks and terrified by the real possibility that it could stretch far beyond.

While I believe in foster car with all my heart, but I am not yet the strong, maternal, loving, solid foster mom that I imagined being, and I don't know if I ever will be.  At this point, I really want to want to be...

"It is the Lord who goes before you.  

He will be with you; 

He will not leave you or forsake you.  

Do not fear or be dismayed."

(Deuteronomy 31:8)