one less

Raw and reeling.

It's something we've always dreaded, but we have never had happen. Until now.

B's gone.  They took her, just like that.  It wasn't what we wanted, anything we had asked for and nothing we were prepared for, but it happened.  Our heads are still spinning and our hearts are aching.  

Some incident on behalf of B and J's family of origin prompted a phone call that changed the course of this journey completely.  Rather than return home to their mom in just a week, all 6 of the children (we had 2 of the siblings) were now going into the foster care system; the very thing that we were trying to prevent by taking them in and giving them a safe place while health was restored back in their home.  But health was not restored, and the call stated that B and J would need to be moved into foster care, THAT VERY DAY.

I was sure that the CPS worker only needed some information to understand, so I informed her that we were, in fact, also a foster family and would be willing to keep the children with us for a time being while court proceedings commenced and a course of action was determined.  The children were safe, protected, healthy, loved and quite secure in our home and there was no reason to interrupt that immediately.  However she did not agree because, she stated, "that is not how the system works".  She insisted that, for legal compliance, they needed to be placed in a long term foster home before the day was done.

All our explaining, arguing, reasoning, begging and pleading could do nothing to change the course for these little ones who had been a part of our family for 9 weeks.  We had no power or authority.  But we had tears, we had feelings, we had emotions, we had objections, we had opinions.  In the 9 weeks we had been family, a deep love for them formed and grew.  And love protects.

But our hands were tied and we couldn't protect, though fight it we did.

When we got the next phone call to confirm the plan I was told, "We found a home for B, but not J, so we're keeping him with you long term.  I'll be there in a half hour."  I was so upset I handed the phone to Jim while choking back tears and muttering, "Taking B, half hour..."

In that time, I carried 4 yr. old B around on my hip like a baby, speaking all the truths into her little ears that I wanted to her to remember as we packed her bags.

"We love you so much, B, I am so sorry this is happening.  This is not what we want.  Though we can't go with you, God will be with you wherever you go and He loves you even more than we do.. He made you in a wonderful way, with incredible purpose, B... He made you smart and happy and energetic and helpful and silly and fun... you have so much to give to this world... Remember you can always talk to God and tell Him if you're scared or sad... He cares so much for you and He listens when you talk to Him..."  She was silent with her head resting on my shoulder.  I couldn't even bear the thought of what was swirling around in that little head of hers.  I desperately wanted her to understand this crude plan was NOT our choice.  We would never choose to have her yanked suddenly from her place of security, safety and love.  That is not what love does.

But, it was obvious when the social worker arrived, that love was not a part of the equation.  There was a job to get done and a weekend to begin.  She was not interested in all the wonderful things we had to share about this little girl she was transplanting, and did not seem affected by all the intense emotions that surrounded her; she wanted papers signed and bags transferred to her vehicle.  "I'm sorry, it's just the way it has to be," she kept saying.

Chaos abounded in those moments.  The other kids were falling apart.  Tender hearted Ky was sobbing inconsolably, but had the sense about her to wake up the sleeping brother to say good bye to his sister.  We loved, we hugged, we prayed.  We were desperate and felt so helpless, so weak.  This was so senseless, so cruel.

I had played the role of "mommy" in her life for 9 weeks and couldn't tell her where she was going or explain why she had to go.  I couldn't promise she would be OK, because I didn't know, and certainly this was hurting our confused little girl deep within.  After telling her repeatedly that we loved her and would protect her from harm, I now had no power to protect her any longer.  Instead, I was forced to witness this little one I loved experience a heart breaking, gut wrenching act.

"Can you come with me?"  She asked when I buckled her in, covering her in hugs and kisses.  

"I go home too?"  J was asking from within the protection of Jim's arms.  He had to be equally confused about all that was transpiring.  Why was she leaving?  Why was he not going with?

"Be strong for her, Tee," Jim prompted with tears streaming down his cheeks, "she needs you to be strong."  I felt anything but.

We all said good bye and wrapped her in love and hugs before she was taken away into the great unknown.  She wasn't being placed with siblings, as had been promised.  She was all alone.

Our hearts just couldn't bear it.  We felt broken, sickened, confused, angered; our hearts were raw, sore and painfully exposed.  We gathered the remaining 6 children and held onto each other tightly.  We cried and we hurt together as a family, with one less.

If we didn't hurt so bad,

then we didn't do it right.

- Jennie Allen

(thanks for the quote, Joy!)

birthday bliss

This year marked the big 3-5.  It felt like quite a milestone, one I wasn't ready for yet.  My mother in law has always told me that 35 is the age of a woman's prime - the favorite year of her life.  She also had told me (several years back) that the 30's were something to look forward to because the kids would be doing such fun things and she has been right!  Though we are still dealing with some toddlers, diapers and tantrums, we are also loving the opportunities we have to watch the big kids in their school productions, band concerts, soccer, basketball and baseball games, and swim meets.  So, I'm going to believe her that 35 will be a great year! :)

Jim got the year off to a great start with a BIG surprise.  After he and the kids served me a yummy breakfast and showered me with beautiful cards, he told me I needed to get upstairs and get ready for my day because friends were taking the kids and he was taking the day off to spend with me!!  After I had a freak-out-just-a-bit-moment about the details of where the kids would be, whether or not bus notes had been written and sports practice schedules had all been worked out, I relaxed and enjoyed getting ready while Jim ran the big kids to school and the 4 little ones to the homes of a couple different friends.  I am blessed with some of the most amazing friends!!

First stop was at the bike trails!  Oh we had so much fun struggling up and whizzing down hills, coasting through the flat plains and enjoying the beautiful nature that surrounded us.  

Next stop, after a quick and refreshing lunch out, was the spa.  Jim had set up a facial, massage and hair appointment.  I'm kinda a simple girl who doesn't really get into pampering and such, so it was a nice, special treat.  It had also been over a year and a half since my hair had been done, so it felt good to have a fresh cut.  

Lastly, he had planned to take me to a nice restaurant for dinner.  Because the restaurant was close to some nature trails, we enjoyed a beautiful walk in the forest by the river on our way to and from dinner.  Never have I enjoyed so much uninterrupted leisure time since I became a mom 10 years ago.  It was lovely.  The best part of all was being with my sweetie.  I am so blessed beyond what I deserve and I am incredibly grateful for this man, this life and this family God has given me.

His eye is on the sparrow

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies?

Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.

Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered.

Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

Luke 12:6-7

Only 2 weeks remain with our little B and J and we are feeling it.

At times, I do long for moments again with my little family and look forward to quieter, simpler days, less competition for attention and fewer squabbles with the little ones. There will be less diapers to change, fewer meals to prepare, diminished need for constant supervision, shorter bedtime routines, half the number of buckles to buckle as we jump into and out of the van, and a little less busyness to keep up with.

But mostly, I ache.  

I ache because I know where they are going, the pain they have experienced and the fears that they have.  They have come to love and adore having a "daddy" and they will be without, once again.  They have come to love structure, thrive within boundaries, speak lovingly and use words rather than their hands; they've developed a love to help, a passion for our traditions and routines, an affection for our imperfect family and the way we function with security, stability, mistakes, grace, forgiveness and love.  "Home" will be so different for them, but it is their home.

And I ache because I will miss them.  We have come to know and love one another deeply, in a way that can only develop with time.  We have seen each other at our worst and our best; we've cried, prayed, laughed, argued, tickled, disciplined, and chased.  We've experienced every variety of emotion imaginable together and yet, we tell each other often, "I love you!"  And we do.  

I talk with them often about the upcoming transition and many tears have been shed.  Preparing big hearts is hard; preparing little hearts is harder.  There is confusion, frustration, fears, bed wetting, guilt and longing.  There is bargaining taking place - perfection being attempted to try and "earn" a right to stay, followed often by acting out - hoping to frustrate us and test our love for them, "earning" the right to leave.

It is hard not to worry about the future of these little ones God has allowed me to mother for this time.   I want the best for them.  And, yet, He reminds me that they are not forgotten, they are dearly loved and known by their Maker.  They are His, and HE is so much better at loving and caring for them than I.

So as we prepare for our little ones to go and we battle together through a plethora of emotions, I trust Him.  And I remember that His eye is on the sparrow...

a better mother's day

It was a different kind of Mother's Day than what I had envisioned or had been planned for, but I believe it was the very kind we were intended to have.

I had a beautiful morning of breakfast, cards and homemade gifts; older children were trying to be helpful and good; little ones were crying, demanding, climbing on my lap and stealing my eggs. :)  It is our life and I love it.

I had been fighting for awhile for B and J to have time with their mom, as we feel strongly it is in their best interest to maintain a relationship with her, regardless of her desires.  I was a little frustrated that Mother's Day was chosen as the day, when 7 weeks had passed with no contact, but I recognized my selfishness and moved forward in helping B and J make Mother's Day special for their mama.

However, there is nothing comfortable about trying to pry a 2 1/2 year old off your leg and forcing him to give a hug to his mom.  Nothing.  "It will just take time, he hasn't seen you in awhile," I tried to comfort her, as she was concerned with his detachment to her.  Thankfully, in an environment like Chuck-E-Cheese, there are many things to distract a young child with, especially a little boy who loves pizza and soda!  Within time, J was more adjusted and B was running around wildly with her older siblings and I was able to slip out to rejoin the family back at home.

Though I received a phone call in less than an hour stating that the kids were ready to come back, Jim was adamant about the agreed upon 4 hours and stated we'd pick them up later.  They will be going home soon... they needed to spend time with their mama.

We had a glorious several hours hiking in the woods and I loved it!!  I'm a nature girl at heart and the sites, smells and sounds of the forest were just divine!

Soon our time was up and we were on our way to the address we'd been given to pick up the kiddos. As we pulled up to the apartment complex on a busy road, kids were running to and fro.  We saw the familiar face of our little B on a patio with several other young kids who were fighting ferociously with one another, throwing punches and kicking shins with everything they had.  When we approached, they stared at us wide eyed, except for B who threw her arms around us for a quick hug before running off again and disappearing into one of the many apartments.

Though it was quite a while before we saw the kids we'd come for or their mama, there was no time wasted!  In a moment, Jim and the boys were throwing a football with 15 other eager young boys and Kylee and I had children clambering all over us, wanting to be held and talked to.  We heard story upon story about their young little lives.  While Ky lavished attention on a half dozen little girls full of longing, a 6 year old boy yanked on my hand and asked, "will you hold me?"  Nearby, my littlest girls were running around being chased by enthusiastic preschoolers. 

As we talked and played we saw and we felt it - the desire, the craving, the young independence, the hard and tough little spirits wanting to be loved, affirmed, given attention. Not a parent in sight.  We knew this was where we were meant to be and what we were meant to be doing, even on this Mother's Day that I had selfishly wanted to be "mine".  So we loved, we played, we talked, held and chased. We were doing it together as a family and there was no better way for us to be spending our time.

When it was time to go, we were getting the 7 kids buckled into the van and found ourselves surrounded by kids trying to jump in and wanting to come along.  "Can I please come too?  I be real good, real good, I promise!"  It was hard to tell them no, but we were sure there was someone somewhere who would want them home eventually.

As we drove off, we waved to tearful little faces, which was cause for many tearful faces within our van.  "Mom, this is so hard, I don't want to leave!  Can we come back tomorrow and play again?  Can we come back everyday?" Ky asked as she waved and wiped away tears.  Hearts had been pierced.  Love, compassion and understanding were flowing.  How grateful we were to spend the time in B and J's neighborhood.  We were all the more desperate to lavish love upon them in the weeks we had left.

It was the perfect way to spend our Mother's Day and one I will remember always.

Mama

You gave me life.

You poured yourself out for my sake,

time and time again.

Your love for me was never ending,

and helped me to become who I am today.

Thank you.

You gave him life,

the man that I love and adore.

You taught, comforted, encouraged and cheered.

You gave selflessly, sacrificially, endlessly.

You raised him to be an amazing man and Daddy.

Thank you.

You were the ones who gave them life,

these precious little girls I call my daughters.

I saw your love for them.

I witnessed your tears and pain and struggle.

You wanted to give them what you could not.

They will always be told of your love for them.

Thank you.

You have trusted me to mother your children,

for weeks, months or years.

For some it was a choice, most times it was not.

I cannot imagine the pain of your circumstances,

in your lives and theirs.

Through the frustration and desperation,

you let me into your family and allowed me to love your babies.

Thank you.

You have called me "Mom".

Some grew within my womb, some within my heart.

Some will call me mom forever, some for just a time.

Though my mistakes are plentiful, 

you let me love you, care for you, know you.

You trust me completely.

Through you, I have witnessed

the most indescribable beauty;

and am able to better understand the heart of God.

You have given me such purpose.

You fill my life with joy, love and laughter,

while I grow and learn.

Thank you. 

Daddies Needed

I just can't wrap my mind around it.

I am constantly blown away by the infatuation the newest little ones have with "Daddy".

They love and adore him, because he has loved and adored them.  Though they are "supposed" to call him by his name, they just can't help themselves.  To them, it is the first time they've been able to use the name "Daddy" and they love it.

They race with the other kids to be the first to greet him at the door upon his arrival from work, screaming "Daddy!!!!" with so much excitement I think they're going to burst.  It is quite the sight to see the man I love completely overtaken by 7 squealing children.  It is a beautiful, colorful, tender and lively scene.  I am flooded with affection and fondness for the man every time.

Twice Jim has traveled for work while B and J have been with us.  Each time, B struggles.  "He's supposed to come home every night to his family, and I'm a part of his family!"  Bedtime isn't as special  to her when "Daddy's" tickles and bedtime stories are absent, and every night he's been away there have been tears.

These precious little ones are reminding me time and time again how invaluable faithful, committed daddies are.  They provide such stability, security and safety to life.  Their strong, gentle and affirming love is like no other on earth.

With their return home on the horizon, we've been trying to talk more and more about it.  Little B articulated one of my worst fears one afternoon as we talked, "But, Ms. Terra, I don't got no Daddy at home."

Oh, how my heart broke.  With a quivering chin I scrambled for words to say, but they felt empty, "I'm sorry, sweetie.  I know that will be hard...."

"But," she interrupted,  "I got a Daddy in God."

I embraced her and cried.  A Father to the fatherless is God in His holy dwelling. 


Daddies are needed.  There are children everywhere living without the security and safety and comfort they provide.  It has been so wonderful to see these children thrive with the love of a father, and amazing to see Jim exemplifying for them the way their Heavenly Father loves them - exceedingly, abundantly, completely.  It is no small task.  But it is life changing.

grace

"She peed her pants!!" One of my children screamed loudly about another child who was well beyond the stage of having accidents.  Though we dealt with many a nighttime wettings during the trauma of her huge transition into our home, a middle of the day accident was a brand-new occurrence for this child.

All the other younger children heard the grand announcement and went running to see the evidence of the accident, while I reprimanded the older child for making public what should have remained private.  

Hurrying then to the bathroom, I scurried the children out who were standing there staring.  I closed the door and turned to see her.  Her clothes and shoes were drenched and she stood in a pool of urine. Embarrassment covered her downcast face and shame showed in her slumped shoulders.  "It's OK, sometimes that happens.  Let me help you get cleaned up, OK?"

Slowly and silently she helped me pull off wet clothes, clean up sticky skin and mop the floor.  As she stood naked, vulnerable and embarrassed, my heart just ached for her. In that moment, I didn't care about the smell of urine or about the fact that my fingers had become wet as well. I wrapped her in a towel, held her tight and tried to comfort her.  

It was a mistake.  She felt horrible.  It was so easy to see the obvious in a child I loved and cared about.  I wanted to replace the ridicule with love and the shame with comfort.  In a moment of pride, I thought, "this must be how God sees us in the midst of our mistakes."  And I believe that He does - He desires to remove our shame and comfort us with His incredible love.  He gave His life to do just that.

But then reality hit, who was I kidding?  More often than I succeed in showing compassionate love, I fail.  Yes, for a child I've been given to love and care for I can do the "right thing", but how many times do I neglect to do the same for others?  How often does judgement seep into my thoughts rather than grace; frustration rather than encouragement?  How many times am I tempted to stare, rather than stoop and help?

I desperately want to remember that moment and the way my heart felt for "my child"; the way I want my heart to feel for each of God's beloved children in the midst of mistakes and shame.  May I not hesitate to show compassion and grace; may I not be bothered by stench and dirt; may my heart break for that which breaks the heart of God, knowing full well how many, many times I have broken His.  

May I not forget, I am often that child in much need of love, comfort and grace. 

to have a child's heart

As we were driving the other day, B shouted out from the back of the van, "There's Daddy!"  I followed her pointing finger to a beautiful, shiny Lexus.  The only thing slightly similar to the 1997 Toyota Camry that Daddy drives (a car I purchased as a new college grad) was the color.  I giggled and told her that wasn't Daddy's car, but by then, all the kids were excited and shouting "Daddy! Daddy!" in unison.

I just love children and the way they think!  They don't care whatsoever what kind of car or van we drive, they just know that the man they thought was driving that car loved them, noticed them, and affirmed them.  He spent time with them, made them feel valuable and purposeful in the world.

There is no point in trying to impress kids with nice things or to fake a good impression.  They know genuine love; they know when they are cherished.  How do we lose part of this as adults?  How desperately I want to remember the heart of a child, for when I am loved and cherished by the most high King, I have all that I need.