Making Beds and Welcoming Girls

Today I made up a bed in my home for a child I've never met.

I tried to pick sheets I think she'll like, based on absolutely nothing, since I have no information about her other than her name and age. While I put the lime green and blue striped sheets on the bed I prayed for this little girl who will be staying with us for a few days. I prayed that she would feel safe in our home. I prayed for her mom, that she would be able to be with her daughter again soon. I prayed for her siblings.

I hope those of you who know us noticed that I wrote "little girl" and did a double take. The Crazy House, full of boys, is welcoming a girl into our house. It's not even the first time this month we've welcomed a girl into the crazy.

I've said a lot of things to God in my life. I've told Him I can't (or won't) do a lot of things. I said I wouldn't get married. I said I wouldn't move back to Michigan. I said I wouldn't have babies or girls in my house. After all that, and more, I really believe God has a sense of humor, and I laugh at myself a lot these days. Especially when I'm in the store buying baby food and little girls' clothes.

It's one thing to say you can't welcome a child into your home when it's a hypothetical question, when the need isn't right in front of you. It's an entirely different feeling when that child has a name and needs a place to go. I've found that now, when the crazies are doing so great, and if there are no great safety concerns, I am compelled to say yes a lot more.

Please understand, I don't say yes because I'm full of energy or feel I am super prepared to parent all. the. children. I say yes because I believe God has called me to this, to care for His little image-bearers, and they aren't all boys between the ages of four and 12.

I share this because I want you to know that I struggle with where God is calling me sometimes, but I know He equips us to do His work. So many people have told me they just couldn't foster, because they couldn't love a child and then let go. But that is all parenting, right? We love them while they are in our home and let them go when they leave. In foster care, the timeline is just accelerated.

It's so easy to say no to a hypothetical, but these kids aren't hypothetical and, chances are, they are in your city. They need people to care for them and make their beds and pray for their parents. Can you do that?

The Crazy Move and More Foster Care

The crazy house relocated two months ago. To be perfectly honest, I have had an incredibly difficult time with the transition to this place that should feel familiar to me. I do my best to daily list all the wonderful things about this new place that I call home, but doesn't quite feel that way.

The top three items on this list are as follows:
Proximity to family and lifelong friends.
New (instant), neighborhood friends for the Crazies.
All. The. Lakes. (God bless you, Michigan)

These always make the list. I love these things even when it feels like my home is actually somewhere else.

Today I was reminded of another thing that should land on this daily list:
Foster care.

Foster care moved to a back burner in my home life for a little while because we had the privilege of adopting our crazies. And now we're trying to get settled before we get our license here. But foster care is taking a new place in my life in this season, and occupying some of my professional time.

Today I organized an event for families involved in foster care, as a part of my new job. I spent a few hours with people who are eyeball-deep in other people's messy lives. Kids, foster parents, relative caregivers, bio parents. They had fun spending time together and I got to sit there and witness it and take pictures. It was easily one of my favorite moments in this new place.

Then, this evening, I had a text conversation with a fellow foster-mama-friend about all the feels of letting go of a child who has lived as a part of your family, in your home. It's worth celebrating when a child returns to their first home, or goes to their forever home. It's also heart-wrenching to say goodbye to a child you gave your everything to for a time. A child who called you mom, whether you encouraged him to or not. A child who played alongside your other children like a brother. A child who grew up a little in your home. It's such a strange mix of emotions.

I love being a foster parent. I love walking alongside those involved in foster care. Not because those things are easy or fun all the time, but because it is good work. It is the work of reconciliation and redemption. It is the work of the Gospel. And now I get to spend my working hours being a part of foster care too.

And for that, I love this new place.

Résumé, Please

What if when you were pregnant your doctor handed you a résumé for your unborn child containing all of the difficulties, bad behaviors, and poor decisions your child would make in the future?

Your Precious Unborn Child

Due Date: March 2017

Infancy Highlights: 

-Will wake up every two hours screaming bloody murder

-Very colicky

-Won't sleep through the night for at least a year

Toddlerhood Highlights: 

-Will throw fits and pull hair often

-Scream bloody murder often

-Color with permanent marker on the wall

Elementary Highlights: 

-Will bite a kid in Kindergarten 

-Won't pay attention in school, very disruptive in class

-Swear at his 3rd grade teacher on a dare and get suspended

-Will be diagnosed with ADHD

Middle/High School Highlights: 

-Will have an insufferable attitude

-Pick constant fights 

-Be disrespectful 

-Slam doors constantly 

-Crash the car you bought him

After reading all those things would you then say "Uh, actually, this child is not the right fit for my family." You probably wouldn't, because you know that all those things would be worth it because you already love your child and know the positives outweigh the negatives. 

But that is exactly how foster care works. 

Caseworkers give foster families this type of résumé for foster kids who need homes and then hope someone wants to take a chance on the kid anyway. I get it. We need to be prepared for what we will come up against. But so often, these kids become defined by their résumé, and then that's all they are.

Think about it, do you want your résumé to be all you are to a potential employee? Sure, your résumé communicates valuable information about who you are and what you've done. But it is not all you are and does not describe all you can do. Don't you always want an interview – to be more than a list of facts and actions?

This is foster care. "Applying" to get a position in someone's home, in their family. Except that the kids don't even get to write their résumés. They don't get to say the good stuff, the important stuff, the things they are proud of. It's more often a résumé of failure being delivered to foster parents (imagine sending that into a potential employer). As a result, a lot of times, people are hesitant to take them in because all they know is a list of negative facts and behaviors.

But you and I are more than our résumés, and so are these kids. They need the opportunity to show themselves and others that they are more than their experiences or bad choices – that these things don't define them. They need someone to take a chance on them and work at training them for life, because most of them have never had that. This is what we need to offer these kids, as foster parents, mentors, friends, and extended family. We need to let them be more than their résumés.

5 Things...

I'm over at Adoption.com today writing about 5 things I wish you understood about foster care. Check it out!

Privacy in Foster Care

Let me tell you something about privacy in foster care. It doesn't exist.

No, really.

Our life is an open book. Literally. There is a file at our agency that chronicles our lives. Among other things, it includes five page papers about each of our family's history, feelings toward our family before age 12 and after, about how Andy and I met, and names, ages, and current cities of all of our immediate family members (FYI family, they know how to find you).

Numerous people are in and out of our house every week checking things out. Caseworkers, licensing workers, therapists, teachers, court advocates, and more.

Tonight our caseworker was at our house waiting for some people we've never met to come to our house so our boys could see their sister for a few hours. During our conversation she brought up this very subject and asked us if we felt strange that our entire lives were on display and that people were in and out of our home all the time. I answered with something like "it's just part of foster care" or something like that, and we went on to talk about other things.

And then I found out how not private my life truly is. As an answer to some question, we were telling our caseworker that we will likely have more kids one way or another in the future. She seemed so confused. So I told her we weren't sure if we would adopt more or maybe have biological kids, but we'd likely have more kids at some point. She was shocked. "Wait, you can have kids?!" Oh dear. "We all just assumed you couldn't have kids. We've all talked about it and just thought oh they can't have kids. No way! Shut up!" Wait, 'we all'?! Awkward.

So, my loins are apparently a subject of public discussion in our agency office (and now I just made it awkward for you, you're welcome). If that isn't the epitome of lack of privacy, I just don't really know what is.

Here's what I want you to take away from this:

First, it's exhausting to share so much of our lives with a ton of virtual strangers. For two introverted people, it's work to give constant reports of how things are going so it can be documented in our open-book life. So, if you're feeling like we don't share enough with you, it's not because we are trying to keep our life a secret (although, some details about the boys' history we legally cannot share), it's just that we spend so much time telling and re-telling the details to foster care personnel, that the thought of rehashing it again is just too much sometimes.

Second, we considered a lot of factors before we decided to foster/adopt, but fertility was not one of them. I understand that many people are led to foster care after dealing with infertility. I'm sorry for the struggles those families experience, and I'm happy they decide to become forever families to kids who need them. But that's not our story. We decided to build our family through foster care first. I can't tell you if we'll ever decide to have biological children, and it doesn't matter to us. These children are ours, just as any other children who come into our family will be, in whatever way they come to us.

So there you have it. Just continuing the pattern of keeping our life as public record.

It's in my blood.

I post a lot of foster-care related things through my social media channels. I talk about foster care a lot. I write about it a lot. I read about it daily. I love hearing about other people's foster/adoption journeys. Much of my life is consumed by it, and here's why:

Foster care is in my blood. It's coursing through my veins.

It's hard sometimes; Feels impossible. And I'm a hot mess like 98% of the time. But I will never stop loving foster care and adoption. I want to do everything I can to support and care for others who journey down this road, and encourage those who may be considering it.

There's so much pain in it, but so much possibility for redemption, for everyone involved. I love deeper, feel stronger, advocate louder, hug tighter, apologize quicker, cry harder than I have ever done in my life. And I wouldn't change it.

If someone would have told me everything -- all the happiness and hell -- we would experience before we started, I would do it all over again. Twice. Because my children need a voice and they need a safe place. And so do the 400,000 other children in foster care, grieving a loss so deep and dealing with trauma so heartbreaking it's too big for them to handle.

So, sorry I'm not sorry about all the foster care related posts, conversations, articles. It's what my family is made of; it's who we are. It's in my blood.

There's an Army Man in my Medicine Cabinet

The last time I (Andy) posted anything on a blog was when Xanga was cool - so bear with me. I've been told that I write like I talk so feel free to respond and interact verbally while you read this.

The army man may or may not be mine but the fact remains that there is a an army man on the bottom shelf of the medicine cabinet in our master bathroom and I didn't put it there. He's been there for at least a month a half and I don't see him retreating back to base camp anytime soon. It has been such a gigantic life change to go from being just the two of us to the now family of five that we are. (Wow! I still can barely believe it!)

I can't help but look back over the past ten months and try and list the hundreds of changes that have happened in our life. Bigger house, bigger car, more toys, the seemingly million appointments every month, lack of personal space, and the list goes on and on. But for every one change in our life there's a hundred for each of our boys. Between our three boys they have lived in eight different homes, they have attended three different school districts, they've had countless caregivers, and their list goes on and on and on.

These boys, our boys, are our life now. We can't remember what our life was like before them and we don't care to know. Of all the places they have lived ours is different because we will, God willing, be their last home as children. Ours is different because they are healing here. Ours is different because they can call us dad and mom. And one of the many things these boys need is to be somebody's life. They need to be in a place where they can leave toys everywhere because it's their house too. Building in basic security, that a lot of us got as kids growing up not even realizing it, is what we do most often with our boys.

This is what's been on my heart lately because this is a really tough part of foster care and adoption. It's easy to forget that the boys are stuck in survival mode sometimes and that makes it frustrating for us.

So here's an update on where we are at with our adoption process. We went to court today for what we thought was going to be a kind of pretrial. It was actually just a time to set up the termination hearing. It could have been more than that if the birth parents had decided that they wanted to voluntarily consent to our adoption. So now we await the termination hearing which lasts for a day and a half and its decided whether or not to terminate their parental rights. The birth parents can still consent as late as the day of the hearing.

This is a very strange and difficult spot for us and we would appreciate your prayers. Pray that we can navigate our feelings and have the wisdom to guide our precious and fragile boys through this process. Even though we try on our own too often, we know that God's plan will be the last say.

What I Hear

I believe most people are well-intentioned. However, I also believe people tend to be under-informed about things they do not consider normal. For my family, this generally results in awkward or unintentionally rude comments from others. Because our family situation is different from the majority in many ways, I know that people ask questions to understand (and sometimes just to be nosy); but sometimes the language that people use actually ends up being a little insensitive and therefore communicates something other than what they mean.

Here are some questions I hear often that generally tend to communicate more than just a desire for understanding.

You say: "Why are they in foster care?" or "Why were they taken from their birth parents?"
I hear: "Tell me your family's darkest secrets."
I would encourage anyone thinking of asking this question of any foster parent to ask themselves why they want to know this information. Unless you will be directly interacting with foster children in a way that would make it necessary for you to know some of that information in order to anticipate any special needs (consistently providing child care, etc), there is no reason to ask this question. Bonus, foster parents actually can't share details of their children's case. Personally, even if I was, it's not my story to tell, so I will respect my children's privacy.
Try instead: Not asking a question like this. Case information is shared on a need-to-know basis, and chances are, most people don't need to know.

You say: "Are you going to have your own children?"
I hear: "The family you have now is not legitimate."
These children are my children. A comment like this undermines all that we have built together as a family in the time we have had each other. This is a highly offensive comment. However we choose to bring children into our family in the future will not change the legitimacy of any of my other children. They will all be mine. Because I chose them to be.
Try instead: One of those annoying "normal" questions people ask parents, like: Are you going to have any more children?

You say: "Are they REAL brothers?"
I hear: "Biology makes REAL family, adoption does not."
This question is tricky. I guess I can understand why people want to know if kids are siblings in foster care, but I know that this is also a common question for post-adoptive families. If considering asking this question to an adoptive family, again, ask yourself why you want to know. What is the purpose of having this information? My answer is this, for us now and post-adoption: The boys are biological brothers, but regardless, these children are real children, they have real fights over real toys, they experience real love in our real home. We are their real parents. So yeah, they are real brothers.
Try instead: Asking questions about the family's adoption stories. Chances are, they will be more than happy to share.

You say: "When will they be yours?"
I hear: "When will you stop pretending to be a family and really become one?"
Again, I understand the sentiment behind this question; however, we live every day as a family and view these children as ours. Their adoption day will be a joyful one, but it will not change anything about the day-to-day of our family life, or how I love my children.
Try instead: "When will the adoptions be finalized?" or "Where are you at in the adoption process?"

If you have said one of these things to me, please know that I am not offended. As I said, I know that most people are well-intentioned. But I do want people to become more aware of the language they use and what that communicates to others. The underlying theme of many of these statements is that our family is not "normal," which may be true in some ways. But just because we did not become a family in the "normal" way does not mean we aren't a family.

Finally, please do not ask these types of questions in front of any children you may be asking about. Again, these types of questions make a point of highlighting the "unusual" things about foster and adoptive families, and most of the time it feels negative. In some situations (I'm thinking of my own children), this may serve to undermine the security these children have in their families. This is not because an adoptive family is less of a family, but because when someone makes a big deal out of something about you that is different, it tends to make you insecure.

My family is beautiful. And I love to talk about my children. I don't even mind answering questions about the foster care system. But I do prefer those questions to be asked in a way that reinforces the fact that we are a real family, because that's what we are.

Emotional Container

Parenting is exhausting. So. Very. Exhausting.

I'm pretty sure no parent is going to argue with me on that. There are many exhausting things about being a parent.

Never-ending dishes from 5 people.

Toys. Oh, so many toys. Everywhere.

Constant refereeing.

The mountain of laundry that comes from having 3 little boys...the majority of whom wet the bed, nightly.

The ceaseless effort that goes into trying to raise them to be somewhat well-functioning beings.

Never sleeping in. Ever. Ever.

Yes, all of these things (and many many more) are what makes parenting exhausting many days.

But then there are those days. Days where "exhausting" doesn't even being to describe the day we've had, or how spent I feel. No, some days leave me far more than exhausted, they leave me weary.

Yesterday was just such a day. We've had many days like this. Sometimes it's because several of the many (many) appointments we have to schedule regularly happen to fall within the same 48 hours, and then, just for fun, all the boys decide to lose their minds. Other times, it may be because one of the boys is working through something difficult that we can't see, which sends him into a frenzy over the purple-ness of the berries in his cereal, which somehow today are much more purple than the every other day (yes, this actually happened). Sometimes it's a school thing, sometimes it's a trauma thing, sometimes it's a birth mom thing, sometimes it's a brother thing.

Well yesterday it was like an everything thing. It started at school -- complete defiance. All day long. Then it escalated at home into the mother of all tantrums (several hours of screaming, stomping, kicking, crying, insults, drawing on the walls, etc).

Lucky for us (and not so lucky for the babysitter), we had to go to a foster care training last night, after the worst of the tantrum was over, but before we had a chance to talk him through it. It was perfect timing in fact, because the training we are currently taking is to help better understand and respond to children who have experienced trauma.

This class is gold. There are so many helpful insights. But one thing in particular stuck out to me last night. One of the trainers, who is a former case worker as well as a seasoned foster and adoptive mom, said that foster and adoptive parents of children who have experienced trauma need to be emotional containers for their children. This means providing a safe environment where the children can feel and express the entire range of complicated emotions that comes with repeated trauma.

Often, my children respond in ways that don't seem to make any sense in a situation, or seem like gross overreactions, at best. But, then I remind myself of the things we know they've experienced, and I cannot begin to relate to what is going on in their minds because of the fact that they view the world through trauma-tainted glasses.

Being an emotional container is wearying. It's the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. But, if I do not allow my children to feel whatever they feel about what has been done to them (while teaching them appropriate alternatives to expressing those emotions), I am only solidifying in their minds the messages that their trauma has piled up in them -- you're worthless, no one loves you, you are not important.

I refuse to speak one more negative message into the lives of my precious children. So, we battle on through the hardest days. We brace ourselves, as emotional containers, for the onslaught of emotional vomit that has come as a result of years and years of trauma. And at the end of the day, we are weary. But I also know where I can find Rest for my soul and where I can find strength to do it all again tomorrow.

“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30

Dear Loved Ones

Let me be clear: God led me to this place, the place of foster care and all that comes with it. But, He used two families in particular, ten individuals, in my life to get me here. To say these people have a special place in my heart would be a gross understatement.

To the People who helped lead me here, and keep me going:

I'm not entirely sure how to accurately describe the role you all have played in my life to this point, and the one you continue to play now -- You, the brave people that climbed the mountain I am beginning to scale, who are standing on the other side speaking encouragement into my journey. There are so many ways that you have influenced my life and my family, and I am so thankful.

Thank you for making foster care and adoption a completely normal part of my life and family growing up. This was the first brick laid on the road that brought me here. Thank you for affirming the notion that family is not limited to shared DNA, and for displaying how families could grow in other ways than in the womb.

Thank you for inviting me in to your family and your life -- your real life. For giving me a front-row seat into the messiness that is parenthood in the foster care system and post-adoption. For showing me that there's very little romance in foster care and adoption, but it's still one of the most beautiful and redeeming things anyone could ever experience. This helped me to have more realistic expectations for what I was walking in to, but also allowed me to be certain that I would never regret it.

Thank you for trusting me enough to allow me to spend time with your children, as their babysitter and their family member. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be family to these children who came to us in a "different" way. This altered my life.

Thank you for walking ahead of us in this, for being the faithful example for us to look to. Thank you for the encouragement you have provided to me now as I try to sort through the wonderful chaos that is our life. This serves to uplift my spirit in the overwhelming moments.

There are countless other things I am grateful for, having you all in my life. The other day I read an article about adoption where the author stated, "No one adopts a child in a historical vacuum. There is always a backstory behind the decision to adopt."

You all are my backstory. Thank you.

Transition

There are several words that get used often in the realm of foster care that just become part of daily jargon.

Permanency
Best Interest
Permanency Goal
Accommodation 
Transition

These words just used to seem like regular words to me, until these words had something to do with the future of my children.

Lately, the word transition has been on my tongue constantly. Like, I'm pretty sure I say it 100 times a day (Okay fine, like 10 times a day). But what does this word mean exactly? Or, at least, what does it mean for us?

[Definition #1] In the last month transition has meant an emotional time of weekend visits with our new Little Man (whose name also starts with S, so we'll be calling him Little Man to cut down on the confusion). The transition started with a three hour visit on a Saturday. Then a nine hour visit the next Saturday. Then an overnight visit the weekend after that. Then a full-weekend visit last weekend.

Little Man moves in with us tomorrow night, and that transition will come to an end.

[Definition #2] But then, we will embark on a new transition, the transition of Little Man actually living every day in our home. The time it will take for S and D to understand that their brother isn't going "back" anywhere. The time before Little Man stops calling me "Mommy Liz" and starts calling me "Mommy." The time between tomorrow and whenever we start to feel like this "new normal" is normal.

And really, we are already in the process of another transistion -- our original transition. The transition that went something like "Just the Two of Us" to "We. Are. Fam-I-LY." In case you've lost track of time, that was a mere five months ago.

In the course of all this transition, we've started to understand that we will probably always be in some sort of transition according to someone. Caseworkers, Case Aides, Court-Appointed Advocates, Counselors, and other professionals all refer to this time as transition, but we refer to this time as life.

I Wouldn't Trust Me Either

My children have never lived in a safe place before. I'm not talking about the kind of "safe place" you consider your best friend, where you can say something stupid and not feel judged. I'm talking basic-level safe. Like the kind of place you go when you're hungry or sad, where you get food or comfort. I mean the place you go for a bandaid and a kiss when you fall off your bike. Or the kind of place you sleep restfully in at night. The kind of place where nightmares are comforted, not created.

While some homes they've lived in offered more safety than others in some respects, they still were, at best, inconsistent in their safety and protection of my precious boys.

Everyday we try to instill in our sweet children that they are safe with us, that we will protect them. We tell them we will never intentionally hurt them, and we are quick to apologize if we accidentally hurt their feelings.

We hug and kiss our adorable little guys often and make sure to tell them we love them all the time, because they've spent so long experiencing a world vastly different from that. But four months cannot erase eight or nine years of fear; A small collection of days filled with love cannot wash away the stain of neglect.

The boys' experience shows that the very adults who should be loving and protecting them often do the opposite. The children who I feel like I was created to love have no way of knowing that I won't abandon them, or hurt them; because in their experience, people's words can't be trusted. So, sometimes, the track record of the adults in their life causes them to resist opening their hearts up to us. They feel a little too vulnerable, so they start to shut down to protect themselves.

So we keep hugging, and kissing, and building up. We keep telling them they are safe, and we'll do it everyday for the rest of our lives, God willing.

They don't fully trust us now, but everyday they believe us a little more. And I don't blame them for doubting us. Because, if virtually every adult to this point who was responsible for caring for me had neglected or hurt me, or blurred the lines of appropriateness when I needed them to protect and love me, I wouldn't trust me either.

Code Language

Andy and I speak in code a lot now that we're parents. Since the boys can't spell quickly, I often spell out different words, but Andy's not big on that...so we've come up with some code words we use while planning different things we don't want the boys to know about quite yet.

M-D's is code for McDonalds.

As in, "Should we stop by M-D's for a little after dinner snack?" (Ice cream cone).

QT is code for Quiet Time.

As in, "I think after lunch we should all have a short QT before we play outside."

Cinematic Feature is code for movie.

As in, "Do you think it's a good idea to do a family cinematic feature tonight?"

The boys haven't figured out our code language, thank goodness. But we've found out that they have some code language of their own. And while we appreciate that the boys haven't figured out our code language, it's important that we try to decode theirs.

A few weeks ago, I was trying to get our dog, Jackson, to leave the kitchen while we were eating. I told him over and over...and over. But he didn't listen. D was standing there when this was happening, and he said:

"Jackson isn't listening very well. If he keeps doing that are we going to send him away to live at another house?"

Code language alert.

I assured D that we would not send Jackson away because he is a part of our family forever. This is important because we weren't just talking about Jackson. This is an important question for a child who has moved to four different homes, with four different caregivers, in four years.

Sometimes their code language is pretty obvious, and sometimes it's not. But, we continue to try to give answers that provide them with security and reassurance that they are an important part of our family, and loved very much.

Birth Parent Visits

In Illinois, there is a status hearing for each case every three months. At this hearing, the caseworker reports how the kids are doing in their placement, how their relationships are with their birth families, etc. There was a status hearing for our boys the week they moved in with us, and so the next one is scheduled for Tuesday.

At this hearing, the main goal is to decide whether the boys' visits with their birth mom should continue. The decision will be based on a report from both their caseworker and their court-appointed advocate on whether or not the visits seem to be in the best interest of the boys, or if they are having a negative impact on them. This is based on a number of factors, including our observations of their behavior.

Currently the boys' visits with their birth mom are limited and monitored. We haven't noticed any real behavioral issues with them after visits. So when we were asked by the case worker and advocate if we had noticed any extreme behaviors after the visits, I told them no, and also gave my opinion about whether or not the visits should continue.

I think they should.

That may seem strange, but here are a few of the many reasons why I would prefer the visits continue:

First, the truth of the matter is, she is their birth mom. I will never be able to erase that truth, and I never want to. If I were to try to discount her role in their lives, I would be ignoring so many of the genetic and experiential things that have come together to form my children's identities at this point. Regardless of her ability to care for the boys, she is part of their story, and now she is part of ours. That will never change.

Second, eventually these visits with her will stop. It's hard to communicate this point well without sharing too many details about their case, but that day will come, and it will come at the end of a much-too-long journey in foster care for my children. At that point the minimal emotional confusion that the boys experience during these visits will stop being triggered by her physical presence, but it will not stop. What's more, is that eventually my children will begin to understand more clearly the path that brought them to us, and that will serve to confuse their feeling about their birth mom and family even more. My children have a lifetime of dealing with complex feelings regarding their relationship with her ahead of them, regardless of whether or not she is physically present in their lives. At this point, they are still young enough to appreciate their limited time with her, and I want them to enjoy that before it becomes clouded by all the things they are currently too young to process.

I do hope that the judge decides it is in the best interest of the boys to continue the visits, for the time being. However, I am also looking forward to the day when a judge is no longer the one making those decisions, or when they no longer have quarterly status hearings, or a case number, or a different last name... 

"He said you were fat!"

A little while ago, through a series of unfortunate events caused by annoying red-tape issues within the system, D went about two and a half weeks without his medication. Both of the boys have ADHD, and are on the more severe side of the spectrum. At home we dealt with it the best we could, and found some semi-effective ways to help him focus and help us cope. School was a different story. The kid was outside of his mind at school. It was a rough time, but we all survived. I'm not really going to get into the whole story since that's not actually what this little update is about...

Anyway, after one of the rougher days during the medication gap, I was sitting with D on the couch rubbing his hands and feet (make note: I was touching his feet. Yes, I love this child), and asking him about his day. My poor little guy was so upset because another kid at school was being mean and hurting his feelings. I asked him to tell me the things that the boy was saying, so I could help him process how he should respond in the future. In the most forlorn voice he said, "He said you were fat!!"

Well after some more conversation I gathered that the kids were telling "Your Mama" jokes, to each other, and D apparently took it very personally. It was all I could do to hold in my laughter at this point. My little guy is so sweet and loves me so much that his feelings were crushed because of a "Your Mama" joke. Heart stolen. Again.

I wanted to share this story for a few reasons. First, it's flipping adorable. Second, while we do experience very difficult things in our journey with the boys, we are not without moments of "normal" parenting joy, and I want to make sure everyone knows that. Finally, while the majority of children who have been in the system for as long as our boys struggle with serious attachment issues, we are beyond amazed and thrilled that our children do not. These boys have readily accepted us as their mom and dad, so much so that D is upset when he thinks someone may be insulting me -- his mom. This is huge and wonderful. Please rejoice in this with us.

Thanks so much for all the messages, comments, prayers and other support you've shown to us -- we hope you keep sharing in our journey, and all the joy and sorrow that may come with it.

Homework and Heartache -- Timeline

"Create a timeline with five events from your life. List the year the event took place."

I was born 1986

I graduated from high school 2004

I graduated from college 2007

I got married 2007

I became a foster parent 2013

Simple Enough.

Except if you're a foster kid.

This is the homework I helped S with last Sunday evening after we got home from our 48-hour "vacation" in Michigan (their first vacation ever). I quickly thought of a few neutral, at-best, events to suggest (ex: "I moved"). Before I went into damage-control mode, S thought for a few seconds and then came up with the only event he could think of to add to his timeline, "Our vacation to Michigan."

While he finished his timeline, I finished my mini-breakdown in my bedroom, and Andy explained that "Mama is crying because she just loves you so much!"

When S was done, his timeline consisted of the day he was born, playing on a baseball team last year, the two times he moved in the last two years, and our "vacation." The last four events on this timeline happened all in a span of 2 years. That school project was a heartbreaking reminder to me that my son has few fond memories from the first seven years of his life.

Foster parenting is no joke. It is crazy hard. Parenting these boys is super challenging. They have experienced so much trauma, and that manifests itself in their behaviors. Some days S drives me bonkers, but then there is a moment like the timeline thing, and the fact that this kid has had more painful experiences in his 9 years than most adults hits me again...and again.

There's no real solution to this, no happy ending for now. All we can do is love these boys hard through the pain and all that comes with it.

We would really appreciate your prayers as we walk alongside our boys as they navigate through their confusing experiences and try to heal.

Thanks for your continued prayers!

Our New Normal

The boys have been with us for almost a month. In that time, they have moved to a different town and a new house, and then another new house (with us), embraced a new mom and dad, been introduced to new extended family members, learned new rules, slept in new beds, gone to a new church, started at a new school, met new teachers, seen a new dentist, gone to a new daycare (before school), made some new friends, and much more.

It will be a while before their little lives settle down enough to become the new normal for them, but we are doing all we can to get there and support them through this transition.

Our life changed a little too...correction, everything is different now. We are adjusting to our new normal as well. Our new normal is crazy and awesome and horrifying and exhausting. There are several things that have changed in our lives that make up our new normal, for example:

-Two little crazies call us "mom" and "dad"
-We are constantly tired. Constantly.
-One of us says the phrase "Don't even look at each other" at least once a day.
-We celebrate successes with stickers (sorry if that slips into the rest of my life, i.e. Congrats on your new baby! Here's a sticker!)
-If I'm home, there's a good chance I have a kitchen timer on my person.
-"Did you pee IN the toilet?" is a question I ask just about daily.

There are also several things I didn't realize I would experience when I became a mother like:

-The indescribable joy I feel when my youngest child belly laughs...seriously, happiest. sound. ever.
-The fierce love I feel toward my oldest child during a meltdown
-The intense heartbreak I feel when my children are beyond frustrated that they don't understand their homework
-The overwhelming pride I feel when my children say they do something "just like MY DAD!" (referring to Andy)

Our new life is absolutely insane. And our brains are constantly overloaded. And our hearts are constantly overwhelmed. And we feel like we're making 10,000 mistakes a day. And figuring out how to be good parents to our two little crazies is the hardest thing we've ever done in our whole lives. But we love these children more than life, so bring it on.

Thanks for your continued prayer and support for our family!

Our Kids, and 5 Things I've Gathered

As most of you know, our little family doubled in size on Saturday! We are now the proud parents to two awesome boys. There's not a whole lot we can say on here, but we can tell you a little. They are brothers; the oldest, "S," is 9 years old, and "D" is 8 years old. They are both sweet kids, very very energetic, and super goofy. We love them so much already.

The boys are adjusting very well to the move, and we are trying to do the same. Before yesterday, we  told people that we were just waiting for our life to explode once we got kids...and it definitely has! This week is spring break for them, which is so nice for the transition. We will both be home for the majority of the week, getting to know them more and getting used to being parents before we take our hot-mess-of-a-life out into the public. We are going to try our best over the next week to get them (and ourselves) into a schedule and get us all used to our new "normal."

Meanwhile, during the last 48 hours or so that I have been a parent, I have come to a few conclusions about life as a mother. Here are the top five, in no particular order:

1. The "bestselling movie" section at Target is designed to make me look like a bad parent (cue: breakdown in the aisle because "The Amazing Spiderman" Movie is not on the shopping list today). Same goes for all of the shelves right at the checkout.

2. The kitchen timer is my new best friend. ("30 minutes of Quiet Time, then the timer will ding and you can get up.")

3. "Quiet Time" is just a nicer way of saying "Parental Sanity Break"

4. "Bedtime" is just a code word for the period of time where we turn the lights out and hide until they fall asleep.

5. My husband is amazing. There is no way I could do this parenting thing without him. Seriously.


And that is all I have the mental capacity to share right now. Oh, and this...

D is a budding photographer. He took this artsy picture of his shoes on my phone today. He would own Instagram with his photo-taking talent.

Thanks for your prayers! Please continue to shower us with them!

How I Really Feel...

Sometimes when I think about all the waiting we've done and all the uncertainty we are still facing, I get frustrated and impatient. We are very excited to be foster parents, and on the one hand, I can't wait to finally get a call about some kids that I can welcome into my home and love. It's all I think about. But on the other hand, I don't ever want to get that call. And it's not because I'm scared I don't have what it takes (although, sometimes I am...). It's because in order for me to get that call, a family has to experience tragedy.

The writer of Ecclesiastes says, "For everything there is a season...a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance..."

What the writer of Ecclesiastes doesn't say is that sometimes those seasons actually happen in the same moment. The upcoming season of our life will be the season for all of these things, often simultaneously.

When children enter our home, it will mean that they will have just experienced trauma on top of heartbreak. Children are placed in foster care because some form of abuse or neglect was taking place in their home. First, they experience that heartbreak, and then are removed from their home and everything that is familiar. Trauma. Regardless of whether or not their situation was bad, it was their situation. Their home. Their family. Their heartbreak.

That is why I will weep and mourn. Because the original plan was not for children to have broken relationships with their parents. The original plan was not separation. We know this because this mirrors our own relationship with God. Sin and separation were not in the original plan. But, God also made a plan for restoration. And that is why I rejoice and dance. That is why I am a foster parent, to help restore. Why wouldn't I want to be a part of the restoration of a family, or the healing of a child?

So, in the months to come, I expect to grieve and I hope to celebrate. These things will happen hand-in-hand, in bittersweet moments. My heart will both break and rejoice as I welcome children into my home when they have just been ripped from theirs. I will beam with pride and be overcome with sorrow when children experience small successes in my care, but away from their parents. I will weep and dance if, and when, I experience the reunification of my foster children to their birth families. And, perhaps, one day my heart will overflow with joy but be stricken with grief on the day we become a forever family for children who could never return to their first family.

This is what we are opening our home and hearts to as foster parents. The command in Romans to "Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep" never seemed so complicated. Sometimes I feel like this will be too much for me to handle, but if God is in the business of restoration, I had better be there too.

Thanks for your prayers.

Home Visit: Done!

Hello! It's true, we have been silent for many weeks. As has the government (says Andy). But, a few weeks ago our background clearances finally came back from the state office! When Andy called to tell me (and fake me out a little: "I have an interview next week...well, we both do...") I was so surprised and so happy!

We had our home visit with our licensing worker last week. She came to the house, looked around, and then asked us lots of questions (foster care is not for those who want a private life). Everything went great, and she told us that our completed paperwork would be sent back to the state office the next morning (last Thursday). Now, we wait for our information to be finalized in the state database, and that's it - we'll be licensed at that point! We will receive a copy of our license and so will our licensing worker. She told us that it could be anywhere from one week to a few weeks before our license was finalized - however long it takes for the data to get entered at the state office - and at that point, we could get a call and a placement any day!

So, now we wait...again.

This is just a short update, because we know some of you have been wondering where we're at in the process. We have been asked to describe the complete process of licensing (in our state), which we will do soon, and we will include more details about the training and visit in there!

Thanks for continuing to support us and lift us up in prayer!