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)