Our Daily Bread

                Most Friday nights I am in a warm, cozy place, entertained by the hustle and busyness of my home or excitedly playing on the ball field.  Last night was a very different night for me. The air was very damp and the cold snuck in rapidly through your shoes, biting your toes until they were literally numb.  Talking and breathing made the night air look as though billows of smoke were rising out of chimneys.  I was only in these conditions 2 short hours, bundled in a manner that seemed very appropriate for the weather conditions, yet I was still a cold mess in the end.

As the Union Gospel Mission van pulled into each stop I witnessed worlds I had never fully known before. Sure, I knew there were people who were homeless, I knew that some were simply circumstantial or situational poverty, others were struggling with addictions and/or mental illness, and some were teens who simply thought couch surfing was a better way to go than to be within the walls of their own home; but I had never known the communal feeling amongst those who were homeless.  I had never spoken with them, gotten to know their story, or even placed myself within their world.  I will be completely honest, I had never done these things because I didn’t know how to and there was fear of that unknown world. 

Our first stop was to a local church that allowed people to sleep in their cars on their property. The drivers referred to this spot as the “car campers”. It was a very quick stop as there was only one man there that evening, “Lance” (name changed for privacy).  It was touching to get to know Lance; even in the short 5 minutes we were there, I felt as though I knew the story of this man’s life.  After handing him a couple of sandwiches, hot cocoa, and a candy cane he shared with me all about his job, his 4 kids, even about the painful loss of one of his daughters when she was 7 ½ months old.  The love for his family just beamed through his eyes and you could see joy enter every part of him as he spoke of his kids.  In a lot of ways I didn’t want to leave that spot.  Five minutes with this man just didn’t seem long enough, I wanted to learn more about him and watch him come alive as he reminisced.  I don’t know if he sees his children still or what type of relationship he has with them and his grandkids, but I look forward to seeing him again and learning more.  I am excited to pray with and for him.

                We only had one more stop that night and it was to a section in Kent near the food bank.  As the van backed into the parking lot, it was like a swarming of people in need began approaching from out of nowhere.  You had individuals that looked as though there was no way they could be homeless, very well kept, clean, nice clothing, etc.  Others you could see the years of hard addiction had taken a toll on their health, aged beyond their years, without a shower for days, possibly even weeks.   Some had their pets, whom they actually fed before themselves.  In this midst of the diversity of homelessness, these people came together, as family, sharing their left overs, offering their blanket to someone else, protecting each other.

                Back in a darker corner of the building was a young girl, 20 years old, homeless.  She sat there with nothing more than a thin, long-sleeved shirt (no shirt under it), and jeans.  I had given her a blanket for the night earlier in the evening and noticed she had offered it to someone else, another gal who had even more to wear than herself.  She was so meek in her appearance, withdrawn, and so broken inside.  As I sat beside her, I used her adorable little dog as an ice breaker.  I sat with her for some time, learning a great deal about what lead her to this place in life at such a young age.  As we spoke, I watched how tentatively and lovingly she cared for her dog.  More than once she mentioned how her dog, Grace Kelly, has kept her alive. Each day she thinks about ending her life, but the love for her dog and the inability to “abandon” her dog as she had been abandoned by so many in her life is what keeps her strong.  We spoke for about 20 minutes before she had to leave and find a place to sleep for the night. I naively believed that going into this position I would be able to somehow connect with and hopefully help out someone in need.  God used that 20 minutes to touch my life and speak clearly to me.  This young lady shared with me that she had been a foster child; moved from home to home, never adopted, and eventually aged out of the system.  Through tears she shared with me her experience of pushing families away because she knew they didn’t really want her for forever, she couldn’t trust any of them to just simply love her and have her as their own.  Her words spoke of the brokenness of our system, the brokenness of foster parents, the brokenness of the kids placed in foster care.  Her words, “These kids just need to be loved through their pain, not given up on. They just need to be loved.” Played over and over in my head throughout the rest of the evening, into my dreams, and even more so today.  We have been struggling with our son David.  Parenting a child who has been abused, neglected, and abandoned is a challenge that I can’t describe.  I had been in prayer so much yesterday asking God for His guidance, for an answer of what to do and in her words I could hear him saying so clearly what I needed to do.  My prayer now is that someone in this young lady’s life will step up and not give up on her, that they will love her through her pain, pull her in as she pushes them away; before her dog is no longer able to save her life.

Fighting for “Forever”

 

                We recently had a meeting regarding my oldest and her permanency.  This was a meeting that we had waited for, prepared for, and anticipated a feeling of hope when it closed.  Our preparation was in vain, her very well-articulated and thought out letter was in vain; no voice to be heard.  Tears of frustration and a cycle of feeling defeated surfaced instead.   It wasn’t an all-out horrific meeting, but one that informed us of the time delays and obstacles that could drastically change what forever would look like for our daughter.

                In taking a step back, Thad and I are for the most part used to how things may or may not go with the state. We understand the brokenness of a system that just doesn’t have the resources or support it needs to run efficiently, we understand the human error that can overshadow and prolong an anticipated outcome, we expect for the rescheduling of hearings because we know our court system is over booked and severely behind.  We understand these issues and we prepare for them, but today was different.  This was HER day, a day she hoped to share her voice, to be heard for the child she is and what she has experienced, a day where they would have the opportunity to understand her and where she felt like her journey to forever would finally begin.

                As we sat in that stale, blank conference room with representatives surrounding the elongated table I could almost hear the anxiousness of our heart beats.  I was such a proud mom in that room.  My girl held her head high, she kept her emotions at bay; even when I shed the tears on her behalf.  I knew what she was feeling; the intense pain of not knowing her fate.  She heard things in that room that she had never before been made aware of, talk of the worst case scenarios and potential cultural obstacles; words that shattered her hope.  In strength she sat there calm, maturely and respectfully challenging what they were saying, questioning what her forever would look like.

                Indeed I am so proud of my kiddo, proud of her strength and who she is in spite of her circumstances.  I am very proud, but I am also completely sad and burdened. She is one of the strongest kids I know, yet at the same time so powerless.  As they spoke I could see her spirit deflate within as the realization that she has no control in her forever brutally sank in.  She is a teen….that means she can access birth control without my consent, she can choose an abortion without me ever knowing, yet her voice is mute within the walls of this system.

                Two and a half years of waiting to know whose child you will forever be is difficult for anyone, but even more difficult for a child who wants nothing more than to finalize their forever with a family they love and whom in return love them to the moon and back. 

Check Mate

 

               God seriously has the best sense of humor. I truly mean that, even with the slightest hint of sarcasm inserted! Every time I have mad e up my mind, set a firm and planted path or decision, He challenges me as if to say, “Check mate, what’s your next move?”  Of course my desire is often to just stick the path I feel is right for me, for our family; but Thad and I are diligent in praying and earnestly seeking God’s will…no matter how much we like our plans better.

                Five months ago we were a very noisy, busy, chaotic, and loving household of 6.  That magic number that can fill up two rows of seats on an airplane, fits perfectly at a large dining table in a restaurant (without adding a whole other table, which means waiting an extra 20 minutes to be seated), comfortably can sit on 2 sofas in the family room, ….you get the picture. A family of 6 felt like a large family but was still very comfortable.  Yup, our life was COMFORTABLE; which by definition means, being in a state of physical or mental comfort; contented and undisturbed; at ease.  Ahhhh…such a nice feeling.

                In early June God challenged us once again.  We had decided that we were a perfectly content family of 6 and that our adoption and possibly even our fostering days were coming to an end.  Life was settling into a routine, kids were adjusting, and we were feeling as though things were manageable even in the midst of the struggles you face when you have children who have experienced trauma, neglect, abuse and attachment disorders. Comfort settled in and then came the text, “Nicole, I know it’s late but call me once you get up, I have something exciting to tell you.”  For whatever reason I was still awake and seeing a text like that got me very curious and rather than responding in the morning, I responded then.  I was thinking that perhaps this friend I admired so much was just going to tell me that she was desiring to come work for YFC with me or something else very cool.  However, to my surprise and shock her response was nothing I could have anticipated.  The following words resonated fear in my heart, “I have a 13 year old girl that I think you should adopt.  Your family will be blessed by her and I feel like God is telling me you are the family”.  As my mind swirled around the thoughts of “What the heck? Are you crazy?  Funny joke, not!  Why us?  Are you sure you heard  God right?”  I respond with, “Wow, I don’t know about this. It will really have to be God’s will, we were really just discussing being done.”   

A week of prayer and conversation ensued as we battled the fears and uncomfortable angst of adding another child, especially a teen to our home.  Diligently we prayed, struggling with the questions of how will we afford a 5^th child; huge grocery bills, college funds, driving in 3 years, etc?  How will Elena do no longer being the oldest?  How will the rest of the kids react, adjust?  How will we fit the whole family at our dining table that seats 6?  How will we afford nice vacations, let alone fit on a plane?? Our fears were a matter of this world, not a matter of the heart, not a matter of what God can and will provide when we accept His challenge. 

 

As we looked at her photograph, her dark brown, beautiful and longing eyes called out to us and it was evident that she was to be our daughter. Rendering all control to God we stepped out in faith, saying “yes” to this gorgeous teen who is filled with so much humor, spunk, and love.  After all, there is always room for one more, as my mother in law loves to remind us.  .

We were certain five months ago that our family was complete, that we had the most ridiculously beautiful family there could be. Saying yes was scary. It was hard and uncomfortable.  When Jesus chose to die for our sins, he did not die a convenient and comfortable death; he endured the most torturous death one could ever experience.  As a believer we are not called to lead comfortable lives, He desires us to grow, and to bear our crosses daily.  Luke 9:23  ²³ And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. ²⁴ For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.”  Bringing our daughter home has blessed us in ways we could never have foreseen.  She has made our family even more beautiful and complete.  I have one more best friend in my home that I get to call my daughter.  How empty our hearts (and hers) would be had we settled for comfort.

When Love Isn’t Enough

 

                (For those of you who have been reading my blogs, the majority of them come from a place of strength or while in a place of learning and growth.  This blog is a little different. Today I write from a very vulnerable place and from a position of heart ache.  I am raw with grief and frustration.  Our fostering and adopting journey is real and some may disagree with what I am writing, but this is my journey and this is where I am at.)

                I have come to realize that although well intended in my beliefs about this world, I can be very naive.  Over the last couple of months so many things have unraveled before my eyes.  Chaos has crept into every part of my being and has left me really questioning if love is enough.  Don’t take this the wrong way, I still firmly believe that love is what allows healing, love conquers all, love is desired by everyone – even those who are incapable of accepting it or giving it.  Love is the essential “fatty acid” of our existence and our souls.  But in my naïve nature of believing I can “save the world” with enough love, I have landed smack on my face.  Sometimes the reality is that love isn’t enough…

                In our years of being foster parents and caring for those who are in the care of someone other than their biological parents, we have used love to help kids overcome and heal from the effects of trauma. Trauma is ugly…. Trauma is defined as “the condition that produces psychological injury.” It is the inflictor of scars on a person’s soul. Scars that cannot be masked, cannot be removed, cannot be forgotten.  Trauma can be big and it can be small but no matter the size, the details, the length of time it was inflicted or occurred, trauma changes a person.  At some point in our lives each and every one of us experiences something traumatic. It can present itself in the loss of a loved one, abandonment, war, neglect, abuse, etc. These moments are used to define who we are and who we become.  Some will use their experience to try and better themselves, help others, and grow. Others become captives of their trauma – not always by choice. Their trauma takes hold of them and imprisons them; keeping them from being able to move forward, starving them of affection, meaningful relationships, security……LOVE….and so much more. 

                Thad and I have welcomed many trauma “victims” into our lives; not only the children we have brought into our home but those we have been blessed to know through our friends that are also foster parents.  Over the years we have learned that no two children respond the same to the trauma they experience.    Some of the children have this amazing strength and resilience about them and they respond to the nurturing, love, and services of their social workers, foster parents, and even the changes that their birth parents are making.  Other children struggle for years attaching and bonding with the family they are adopted into, some need intensive therapies and never fully overcome the scars marring their soul and causing them to struggle for the rest of their lives.

                The intense scars of trauma are alive and breathing within the walls of my home.  This scarring is none like I have ever experienced before. I have heard of trauma like this, you know those ‘rare’ cases. I believed that the love we could give and pour upon children would make a drastic difference in aiding children as they fight their trauma.  I believed that loving someone enough, pushing them to be their best, pouring out myself to the point of exhaustion would somehow help that child overcome their trauma, help them to learn how to receive and accept love, help them to learn how to reciprocate love, I believed it would help them start to heal.  My heart breaks as I write this because I have hit the wall of reality, full speed ahead.  This collision of reality and hope has created a chaos within me that I can’t seem to get control of.  My love for a child cannot undo the years upon years of hurt, neglect, etc.  Loving a child who does not know how to accept love, who does not know what true love looks like, who fears love, and who has no idea how to love in return cannot overcome their trauma with love alone.  Oh how I wish love was enough. I would give anything for love to be enough right now.

                Trauma is the ugliest thing I have seen.  It rips the innocence from children and replaces the years of carefree bliss with fear, loss, pain, sorrow, and such deep-seeded grief that can truly rob a child of all hope and happiness.  Trauma cannot be simply overcome by love. We have tried that, we have put forth every ounce of love we have and it isn’t enough.  I want to scream and shake those birth parents who cause this trauma for these kids, I want to plead with them to refrain from damaging the spirit of their child. I want to beg them to rethink their actions, the situations in which they place their innocent children. I want to show them the end result of what their actions will do.  My heart shatters for those who have been broken by trauma.  At this moment I feel like I have failed because I am incapable of gluing those pieces of brokenness back together. Logically I know I did not inflict this upon this child, but I desperately hoped our love would be enough. I believed that love had the power to heal all wounds; but love is only a part of that healing. Sometimes the wounds of trauma are so deep that intensive therapies are needed even more than love. Sometimes the wounds are too deep to ever reach….

Dear Heavenly Father,

 You know these children, you know their pain. I know full well that my love will never be enough but Lord your love is.  Your loved exceeds all other love and your love can heal all things.  I ask Lord that your healing takes place in the souls and spirits of these victims. I pray for the strength to continue loving without avail and for that love to have a positive impact on those it is poured out upon. I pray for the future of these children, for their protection.

In Jesus Name,

Amen

Making My Heart More Like His

              A couple of days ago we received a sweet, little, 8 week old princess. Some call me crazy, and yes at times, with five children ages 9, 7 ,3, 3, and 8 weeks I tend to reflect and say, “yes I am….it is just a good crazy”. Feeling as sleep deprived as is typical for a mother with a newborn; I would have normally taken this down time to nap alongside my littlest ones. However, I feel the need to write instead as my heart is aching.

                This afternoon I had the privilege of meeting our foster baby’s birth parents.  Walking into the visit room, their pain radiated from their entire being. I cannot imagine the pain they feel each day that they are not the ones performing the daily care for their children. As mom cried while we hugged, I could feel my own tears falling.  My heart breaks for her….No matter the situation or the circumstances that placed her children into care, this mother and father LOVE, genuinely love their children.  They have zero control in their lives, their child’s life, or the timing in which reunification can occur. They are breaking from the inside out, trying to gain control of the situation however they can, attempting to trust the families that have their children, strangers completely unknown to them, making it through the emotional turmoil and trauma of separation.

 For those who have not walked this journey, who don’t fully understand foster care, my role would seem simple…..care for the children in my home.  Sure, I could let that be my only role, but when I meet the birth parents, when I see them in pain and desperate, my heart is transformed.  God uses these instances to make my heart more like His.  These parents are His children and no matter the wrongs they have done, He loves them and His heart is breaking for them. God molds and changes my heart with every encounter and my role becomes much clearer and much bigger than the simplicity of caring for children. My heart has changed over the last four years.  I have a love that I never expected for these birth parents and I genuinely love them as God does.  Loving them isn’t always easy, but I make the choice to love them.   I choose to love them in all that they are, in all that they are experiencing. My heart breaks for their daily loss just as I know it breaks God’s heart. As I love them, I pray that God uses me during this time to show these parents the love of Christ; a love that can give them a new hope and a new life.

Our Home is Your Home….Forever

 

                I feel like I need to give a brief update as our life has changed a lot over the last 5 months. Back in August we had to disrupt our placement of B. If you have read any of the previous blogs or even noticed the gap of time that passed in between blogs, you will know that the decision and act of disrupting that placement was extremely heart breaking.  The grief I felt as a mother for the risk that was posed to our other children, in addition to the grief that I have for him.  I was not fully prepared for the grief I would experience.  There was a tremendous amount of mixed emotions, but mostly pain that I felt and still feel for him as I begin to realize and accept  how B’s life is more than likely going to turn out.  However, in the midst of this I see God’s hand completely at work. God used the timing of his departure and the struggles we faced to ultimately glorify Him. We couldn’t see it then, but we definitely are seeing some of it now.  I know the bigger picture has yet to be painted, but the masterpiece has begun to take shape.

                When B left our house, Thad and I felt like we needed to take a break from foster care, just for a short time. We knew that our hearts needed to heal and that our children needed to grieve and process as well. Yet, as it typically happens, that isn’t what God had in mind for us. In fact, the timing of B’s departure from our home was in God’s eyes, the perfect time to bring David back into our home…..forever. Within just two weeks of B returning to his previous foster home, David returned to us.  David had lived with us previously for about 7-8 months and even at that time we had prepared to adopt him. When he came into our hearts the first time, he had already had multiple placements and it was at that time we made a vow that we would always be there for him. When he left our home the first time we did not say good-bye. We remained a part of David’s life; we celebrated birthdays and holidays with him. Little did we know that maintaining this relationship with David would play an enormous part in his future.

                In September we started the process of making him our son, forever.  After a year and a half of him living apart from us we felt our family becoming complete. On December 27^th we finalized our adoption of David.  Even though David has been in our life for the past 2 ½ years, both in our home and out, he has some grieving to do. He was not living with us for the last year and a half. He had a life, a routine, a different bedroom, a different home and it was what he had known. He had a bond with us, but his life was not completely with us. The past four months we have been building security, being a safety net as he grieves his previous home, we have been strengthening our bond and attachment, together we are growing as a completed family.

                Each day we have been blessed to see how his attachment to us has strengthened. Last night he brought tears of joy and sorrow to my eyes. As I laid down with him, snuggled him, and prepared him  for bed we discussed the next  day’s events. David loves his grammy so much and I was telling him about the fun plans she had for him in the morning.  David looked at me with his beautiful blue eyes and said, “Mommy, I am going to miss you”. That moment his love for us shined through in such a strong and deep way. It may not seem huge to those who do not understand the attachment and trauma issues of children who have experienced so much in a short amount of time, but those words are huge!!!! After I told him how much I would miss him as well, he again looked at me and his next words broke my heart…”Mommy, do I get to come back home?”  My sweet, 3 year old baby boy, whom I love with all of my heart still feels that fear of possibly being disrupted and moved again. My heart cries for him, I know that his fear is based off of the reality of his life. I  hurt for him because I know it is going to take time before he fully understands and feels the security and safety that he is home for good. As I tried to hold back my tears for him, I snuggled him and whispered to him, “Baby boy, you will always come back home, this is your home forever and you will never have to live anywhere else again.”

                God brought David home forever and his healing is taking place at this moment.

What is Adoption Really Like?

 

                I am beyond blessed by the family that God has chosen for me.  People look at our family and at times call us amazing and inspiring…..sweet, kind words that make my heart smile as I know  it is His light that they are seeing and calling amazing.  But adoption is more than blessings, more than an amazing act, adoption has sadness and grief, it has pain and sorrow.

                Thad and I have experienced a few different types of adoption – private, foster to adopt, and another very unique type.  Each adoption is different, yet the same in other ways.  For us, God chose ¾ of our children to be born from another’s tummy, but all to be born from our hearts.  Each of our 3 adopted children had come to us in different ways, but all have come from places of hurt.  When I think about how blessed I am to be the mother of these children and how crazy in love I am with each of them, I also think about the loss that had to happen in order for these children to be my babies.  Private adoption or foster to adopt, another person had to feel pain and/or sacrifice when they chose an adoption plan for their baby or when their child was taken away from them by the state because they were not in a position where they could safely raise him/her.  My children will always have a sense of wonder about their biological families and my children that had a life with their biological parents will grieve that loss. 

                Adopting is the most incredible journey; it is an experience of unconditional love, courage, growth, and for us a complete walk in faith.  Adopting has been the magical key that has grown and completed our family. I look at my children and even though they are all different shades of beauty, I forget that they were not born of my body.  Each day I am so thankful for my “God Chosen” family and my heart is overwhelmed with joy and love, and as I look into their faces I am reminded of the pain and sorrow that had to occur in order for us to gain these blessings.  For the mother that specifically chose us to be the adoptive parents of her daughter, I have an unexplainable love for her.  I see her in my daughter’s face and my gratitude cannot be expressed with words, then in the same breath my heart hurts for her because I know her decision was not easy.  I will live each day acknowledging the sacrificial choice she made and I love her deeply for it.  When I look into the face of one of my sons, I am reminded of the trauma that had to occur for him to be with us.  Even though the circumstances of his birth mother’s life were the cause of him being with us, I grieve for her as the loss was not her choice – even though he would not be safe with her, she still loved him the best she could.  For the family member who loves the child so much that they chose for him to be in a family with a mom and a dad, they grieve and hurt too because of the sacrifice they have made.   Adoption is my heart, caring for the orphan is my passion; it has brought so much happiness and joy into our lives, and it has completed our family.... I just wish it didn't come at the price of pain for someone else.

                I am so thankful for the ability to adopt and for our beautiful family, but I will always struggle knowing  the pain others had to feel in order for our children to be brought into our lives.