Just Like That

Some 21 months ago a young boy was removed from his home.
Roughly three months ago my husband and I became involved in his case as foster parents.
And many of the moments in the course of those three months have been filled with conversation, anticipation, skepticism, and angst regarding the ambiguous future. The wondering when he would ever get to be with his parents again.
Hearts broke over the separation. The wait. The unknown.
Explanations didn't statisfy.
Reasoning wasn't adequate.
And prayers often felt empty for this little boy.
Then the day came.
We had crossed boxes off the calendar counting down to court day. The hearing was held, the judge made a ruling, support services were secured, and the caseworker gave the go-ahead.
And within an hour a little boy's life turned upside down again. (This time, with a lot of Yaba-daba-doooooooo expressions.) He bid farewell to the friends he had on XBox Live. He gave hugs and said good-bye to our family. He grabbed his bags, and just like that - he walked out of our world.
To go home. Where his heart longed to be.
********************************************************************

Yeah. That experience was so prolonged, and then it happened so fast.
And in many ways, the future is still uncertain.
What will our relationship with Foster's family be like? Will there be one at all???
When will we have our next foster child? What will that relationship look like?
How will my heart handle the coming and going of these children?
What else is going to change in my life?
Ahhhh, so many questions. And I do not have the answers at this moment.
But I do have faith.
I know that God knows. Just as HE knew Foster would go home yesterday.
And I am choosing to trust HIM with every bit of the unknown.
Just like that.

Like the Lily

I walked out to get the mail yesterday and saw this:

I leaned in closer, and saw this:

And I seriously almost started crying.
Not because I was angry at the deer or rabbit or other critter which so greedily ate my lilies to the ground. (Though I was.)
Not because I was upset that the pest repellant I purchased seemed to have failed.
(Though I was.)
Not because I am still bitter about the critter who ate my flowers last year.
(Though I am.)
Rather, I almost started crying because my heart felt just like that obliterated lily.

That is, prior to going out to check the mail I spent much of the morning feeling defeated.
I wrestled with concerns for a little boy whose future is uncertain. I battled with the desire to express compassion in the face of angry outbursts. Because, honestly, when animosity is coming at me - kindness isn't my first thought. I contended with choices between what to allow and what to limit. *read that: how much screen time is too much screen time* And I fought with urges to find a way to become all-powerful and just make everything all-right.
I felt like I was failing at every turn, and looking at those lilies with a sense of I'll-always-lose-to-those-nasty-critters-so-I-should-just-give-up had me feeling the same way about the struggles I'm trying to work through with Foster.
So I looked at the would-be flowers, and I wanted to cry.
Thankfully, God led me into the living room moments later (Which has become my husband's work-from-home base.) and coaxed me to be honest about my heart condition.
Brian suggested I take time and go for a bike ride.
So I did.
And as I pedaled I prayed. I poured out my heart to God and begged Him for wisdom. I told Him everything I was feeling and I asked Him to be my Help. It was so good to expel physical energy while simultaneously putting voice to the needs of my heart. I went a longer route than originally planned, but I think that may have been God's leading - HIM knowing I was gonna need more than "a few minutes".
By the time I parked the bike back in the garage I felt peacefully certain that God is good and is still in perfect control of the world.
Then I remembered that a couple of days ago Matthew came to me with deep apologies for getting too close to my flowers with the weed wacker. I realized it wasn't a critter who destroyed that little patch of lilies after all. The pest repellant may, in fact, be working. And the rest of my flowers are probably not in danger of being wiped out. Because my son was solemnly sorry for his mistake, and I am sure he'll be more careful in the future.
*wink*

From the Heart of a 10-year-old

So, I learned something last week.
I learned that even though grown-ups have good intentions, sometimes their words may be empty, meaningless, and even hurtful.
The fuller story is this: Foster was having a really rough day. He is missing his parents, he is frustrated with a broken system, and the delays and shut-downs caused by the Corona virus are making it worse. So, on this particular day he was angry. And he was being very vocal about it.
At first I was just listening. Trying simply to be attentive and to let him express his feelings. But then he said something which made a light bulb go off within me, and I was taken aback by the profundity of what he communicated.

Foster complained, "DHHS tells me to be a happy kid. Just enjoy being a kid. Don't worry about things. Just be happy. How am I supposed to be happy when I'm the only kid who isn't with their parents?????"

This young boy, though he was unaware of what he said, nailed every well-meaning adult who has ever told him not to worry about all the adult-things which need to take place in order for him to be reunited with his parents. It is so easy for us as adults - who have tons more maturity and life experience than a 10-year-old foster child - to encourage said child to leave the concerns to the adults; to keep living as a care-free child, doing only the things a child needs to do.
I mean, it makes sense!
Leave the details to the adults. They'll handle everything.
Just be happy, and enjoy being a kid.
We, as adults, probably all wish we would have followed that advice as children.
The problem is, a child who isn't with his parents - who can't even visit them face-to-face because of a stupid virus (his words) - isn't happy. He isn't carefree. Even though he is surrounded by many adults who love him and are trying to care for him, he is not content.
And I realized as I listened to Foster repeat this refrain several times, when we tell a child like him not to worry - rather just be happy, we are completely invalidating their feelings. We're basically telling them, "There is no need for you to be sad about your situation. Stop feeling that way. Instead, pretend that your life is good. Live as though we have worked through the issues and you're back where your heart wants to be. Just act like everything is OK, even though it isn't."
Oh, I know, we would never think of saying those words outright.
How insensitive is that???
But it's what we imply when we tell a child to assume our level of experience and maturity, and to look at the circumstance through our eyes.
It may be true that a foster-child cannot affect his situation by worrying about it. That the adults are truly the ones with the responsibility, ability, and obligation to fulfill the duties. But a child doesn't have that understanding, and asking him to operate as though he does is simply not fair.

Yeah. So that's what I learned through my foster son's expression of anger and frustration. People (adults and children, alike) need to have their feelings validated, because they're real. Not saying we should live based on our feelings, mind you, but we need to be allowed to feel and express them - and we need to know somebody cares. I pray God will give me the grace to remember this reality whenever I am about to tell Foster (and all future children He brings into my home) not to worry.
Ahhhh, LORD, please make my heart sensitive to the hurts and needs and feelings of these precious children who You love so much. Please make me an instrument of love and peace for them!

In Make-Believe

I took a walk yesterday. Sort of.
That is, I suggested to Foster that we go for a walk to get some fresh air and I put on my shoes and coat and hat and gloves. But seconds after we were out of the house, it wasn't really "me" who was going on the walk. Foster quickly asked me to become "her."
That is, Queen Elizabeth.
I'm pretty sure Foster likes me well enough, but every time we go for a walk he asks me to bring her out. And every time, he becomes somebody else, too. I have, I mean, Queen Elizabeth has walked with Batman, Spiderman, Super Foster, and even the Joker.
But yesterday I, I mean, she met somebody new.
Deadpool!
It was quite an interesting experience, as the queen learned about the life of an anti-hero (and the definition of such). And as she listened to his adventures which included escaping from televisions to enter new dimensions, as well as his angst with being put into silly children's movies when someone gave him a bad rating in his own movies. Deadpool spoke of "them" making him play roles he didn't want to play, and wear costumes of which he was not fond. Sometimes he even looked up - to make contact with the "them" on the other side - and complained about the nonesense they were asking him to do.
Fortunately, by the time the walk ended "they" had returned Deadpool's chip and agreed to let him act in the movies with which he was pleased. And all was good in the (make-believe) world.

That's pretty much the way our walks go.
I, as the queen, am surprised by the appearance of one hero or another (or villan, or anti-hero...) and proceed to spend the next 20 minutes or so listening to his story and seeking to solve whatever problem he is facing on that day.
If I was a licensed professional psychologist I might be able to analyze and treat the real behind the pretend. Maybe.
But I am not.
And I cannot.
I'm just a foster mom seeking to love a foster son, and to point him to Hope in the process.
And I think that's enough.
For real.

How's your story today? Do you need Someone to help you with your real?

The Day I Became a Queen

Last Friday I came home from work and - after I changed out of my uniform - I asked Foster (that's what I'm going to call our foster son in my blog posts) if he wanted to go on a walk with me. It was a nice day and I thought he would enjoy getting outside. So we put on our shoes and coats and started out on an adventure.
I thought it would be fun to walk over to the elementary school where my boys used to attend, and spend some time on the playground. And as we walked we talked about all sorts of things. (Mostly Batman, though, if I recall correctly. Because Foster loves Batman. And somehow every conversation seems to come back to the Dark Knight.)

When we arrived at the playground we went to the swings. We needed to sit and rest a minute because of the running we'd just done. Then we tried out the balance beam and monkey bars. And I totally impressed Foster with my ability to climb up a tall pole. (I was kinda impressed, myself. Because I wasn't sure I'd be able to do it!) Finally, we made our way over to a structure with slides and ladders and bridges and stuff.
It was on this structure that I became a queen.
Foster introduced the idea of pretending the structure was a castle and I, its queen. And he took on the roles of knight, squire, and king. I enjoyed watching him quickly transform from one character to another, and particularly delighted in the moment when he - as king - took me to a ball. We waltzed around the grass and I showed him how to spin me under his arm. He was quite pleased with his ability to dance. (Not sure kings and queens perform the Mexican Hat Dance at royal balls, but I showed him how to do that, too!)
With the final *clap* *clap*, however, things in the kingdom took a turn for the worse.
Somebody invaded the castle and we had to flee.
Fortunately, there was another structure on the playground which was able to serve as an alternate castle. So we ran to it.
UNfortunately, the villans attacking the first castle saw us running and chased us.
Double-fortunately, the playground had a third structure which could act as our castle.
So we ran to that one.
Double-UNfortunately, the villans chased us as we fled to that one, too.
In a last-ditch effort to escape the villans, we ran to the first castle.
And super-duper-fortunately, when we got back to the first castle Foster turned into SpiderMan!!!
At that point, I thought all our problems had ended. But I was wrong. Something very strange happened to SpiderMan and he began to turn on the queen. He accused me of doing nothing but wearing fancy dresses and going to balls. *gasp!*
So I reminded him (in the slightly annoying, quasi-British-a-little-bit-Scottish accent of the queen) that's what queens do. It went something like this: Pardon me, sir, but all you do is run around fighting villans. Because you're a super-hero, and that's what super-heros do. Well, I am a queen. And we wear fancy dresses and go to balls!
The next thing I knew, Spidey made his famous hand gesture and shot a web right at my face.
He webbed my mouth shut!
I continued protesting his behavior, but this time it went a little more like this: Mmmmm, mmmm. Mmm! MMMMM! And for the next several minutes we went back and forth between the queen getting webbed in place so SpiderMan could paint the castle blue and red, and Spidey cutting off the mouth web so she could speak - only to web it again when he wanted her to be quiet.
It was quite a hilarious scene.
But then it was time to go home so I could begin making dinner.
As we walked, Foster and I continued our role-play - and my enjoyment carried on with us. It was so much fun to see his imagination at work as he added to the story. I fully delighted in playing along. When we were almost home, Spidey pulled out his (imaginary) cell phone and started texting someone. I (the queen) asked for the indentity of the person with whom he was speaking and got super, SUPER excited when he told me it was Elsa! He texted a message to convey how much I admired her singing and how pleased I was to have a personal interaction with her. I then learned that SpiderMan and Elsa are in love, and are probably going to get married. It was such an exciting discovery.
But I was sworn to secrecy.
No one must know of this love affair.
At first I was disappointed that I couldn't tell anyone. Then I remembered it was all make-believe. SpiderMan and Elsa don't even know each other.
But later that evening I came across this picture - and I wondered if Foster's story just might be true!