Called To Love

This morning I was reading an article about the Texas Foster Care System while LG played happily on my lap. She's a little cranky, courtesy of the vaccines she got at her 6 month well check this week. Six months. She's been with us for six months. The blink of an eye, and forever all in one. We are the only family that she's known, but not the only source of love she's been gifted.

LG's mama (R) loves her immensely. Back in August after disappearing for a couple of months, she resurfaced and wanted a visit with LG, her baby. In those months of not knowing where R was we wondered if she was hurt or hungry, whether she was homeless or in danger. The hour it took to drive to her visit was tense. There were enough variables and instability involved in the situation that extra staff had been called in, just in case. After leaving her in the arms of one of the staff members, I drove to a nearby parking lot and just shook. From the passenger seat, Leilani (a woman who has in her own loving and inclusive way adopted me into her family), told me it's going to be ok, to try to calm down. I fumbled for words that would honestly and completely capture the war of emotions making my hands shake and my voice tremble. "All I want to do is drive back over there and run inside. But when I get in, I don't know if I want to scoop up LG and take her away from there, or if I want to embrace R and tell her how thankful I am that she's ok, that I was so worried about her, that I'm so relived that she's safe!" R is unstable, but the love she has for LG is undeniable. Does that mean she's capable of raising her? Or that because of her love for LG, she's the best place for her? The department will figure that out. What I know is that LG is loved by her mama and that if the strength of our love for our children was measured by our ability to get it right, we'd all fall short. 

Foster care is hard. It's living in a state of unknown, it's juggling a revolving door of new people in the form of caseworkers, attorneys, CPA caseworkers, CASA people, bio family...All while building a deep and permanent bond with children that may move on from your home.

In the article I was reading earlier I saw a few stats that made the urgency associated with foster care glaringly obvious.

"As of Oct. 17, among the 2,000-plus endangered children awaiting help from CPS, 511 were six years or younger and at the highest risk of being abused or neglected, according to the department."

Too few caseworkers, a disorganized and chaotic system. Not enough hands to hold it all up and real, beautiful, children getting lost in the mess of it.

Is there something you might be able to do? Do you feel something in the pit of your stomach when you think of the 171 children who died of abuse and neglect in 2015? Maybe being a foster parent isn't your "Right Thing". Maybe it's being a parental coach for biological parents- being a mentor, or donating gently used/new clothing to one of the many organizations in our area that are working to support children and foster families. It could be becoming a respite care provider, or committing to walk along side a foster family as a support in prayer and practicality when they receive a new placement.

Maybe it is becoming a foster parent. Maybe you're scared of the unknown and trying to logic your way out of the calling you never wanted. I get that.

We need you. Church. We need you to be the hands and feet of Jesus. When He walked in the midst of the broken and lost, He met needs in a practical way that demonstrated His scandalous love and people were transformed- because of action. It's tempting, so tempting to look the other way, but intentional ignorance doesn't equal freedom from responsibility. We are called to help, expected to respond to the orphan and the widow (the untouchables, the lost, the hurting) with a love that looks like a verb. We are seated in Heavenly Places, given the gift of being made free, and in response to that gift our reflexive action should be an overflow of love that comes from Him. We don't get a pass on this, The Bystander Effect isn't applicable to us.

We need courageous hearts that step into the brokeness of others and know that love is the answer, that loving the children is easy, but that sometimes it's the way we love these parents and treat them with respect and integrity that will break the cycle and achieve, what we believe, is the ultimate goal here: Reunification of the family unit. YES adoption is beautiful, but adoption was never plan A. These situations and the layers of complexities are many, but they are redeemable. They are not hopeless. LG's mama, R? She is a beloved daughter of the King, worthy of respect, worthy of our time, worthy of our love. Love transforms, and fortunately for us, His healing power, His loving mercy isn't contingent upon our belief in it. So, it's ok if we're not sure, or if we have doubt, or if we don't have all the answers.

Where do you fit? Is there a place you know you're being called? Shoot me a message. It's ok to not know, it's ok to have questions. I won't have all the answers, but I know that if we work together we can find them, or find someone who has them.

Thank you for your prayers for our family. They mean so much to us. Our hearts are broken for the families affected by generations of cyclical abuse and neglect that some of these children (and their parents) are born into. We're praying too. And you might be the answer to our prayers, the gift of a stable, loving home that a child, a baby, a teenager needs, or the resource and relief a foster family needs that will keep them in play.

You're important. You're the solution. Will you claim your place?

Hello From The Other Side

I’ve put off blogging. There’s just so much I want to get down and I’m not really sure where to start. So let's just get into it.

Y’all, my spleen ruptured! And because we like to keep things interesting around here, it didn’t rupture once, but twice! Really. My PCP (primary care physician) jokingly reminded me that I should never want to be interesting to doctors- that when it comes to my health, boring is the way to go. I couldn’t agree more. Physicians finding my spleen fascinating is the last thing we need, but things go the way they go.

Visiting with Molly the service dog.

The short end of it is that I had two non-traumatic spontaneous splenic ruptures. The first was repaired excellently and held strong. The second rupture happened after I was released from the ICU and was in an entirely different area. We’re so grateful that my surgeon decided to remove my spleen completely because it was in surgery that they discovered the cause of all my discomfort- the second rupture.

Mike and my best friend, Meghan lotioning my feet and making me laugh.

I could end there. That's what happened on the clinical end. But there was so much more and I'm having a hard time putting words to emotion and tying all the loose ends together, because we were wrecked. Wreckage is messy and things don't quite fit into the spaces that were there before because nothing is the same. The whole experience was jarring. Going from sitting in bed doing my bible study to the ICU, Mike going from finishing up laundry to calling up our closest people and having no real reason why all of this was happening- confusing. Especially for a guy who likes having the answers.

Michael decided I needed to get out of the house, so he drove me to the nail salon and treated me to a mani/pedi.

We still don't have answers. Pathology came back showing a rupture consistent with trauma. There was no trauma. So, we're in this new space where there is no logical explanation, where we try to make sense out of something that doesn't. There were a few very scary moments, but more than that, there were beautiful ones. Teams of our loved ones pulled together to get kids to where they needed to go and make sure they felt secure. I was never, not even once, alone in the hospital. Mike has been able to telework since I was released. Our sweet, loving church family has provided dinners for us since I came home demonstrating for our children what it is to be lifted up, prayed over, and loved without condition of repayment. There has been so.much.good. We are so grateful.

My sweet friend, Megan, propped up LG on a pillow so I could spend time with her post-hospital.

I'd really like to end by saying thank you. Thank you for praying for our family, for the comments on our fb page, and the messages of encouragement you sent. Thank you also for your patience as I try to get back into the groove of blogging. I've missed it, and I'm looking forward to giving voice to a few key things that have happened over the last month involving our foster care journey.

Photo courtesy of the immensely talented Shannon Lafayette with Shannon Lafayette Photography.

Hold On. Let Go.

I'm not really sure why I fight the things that I need the most. Like my Levi fighting sleep during nap time, or the way my sweet nephew Jude struggles and bucks in his mama's arms when she tries to get medicine into his little mouth. Lately that's me. Twisted up and gato-rolling rather than dealing with the stuff. I wonder what will happen if I slow down enough to examine it all. Will I ever be able to pick up this pace again? The need is real; to wade through the mess to weed out what's junk and what's treasure. I need to do the work. But I'm so tired. I've been trying to get a blog out Tuesday mornings. I couldn't make myself do it last week. I fought it- the medicine I needed- to dive down the rabbit hole of thoughts and words. Everything that came to mind seemed like a bummer, so heavy and deep, and that's not exactly accurate when you hold it up to the picture of what our life is like right now. I feel like we've been trudging in shoe-sucking mud. Progress is being made, but it's slow and messy, exhausting and taxing on the body/mind/spirit/heart. The triumphs are fluorescent- shining with victory. Defiantly hopeful in the face of it all. Even so, I'm leaving the unpacking for another time.

What would make my soul soar right now would be this; to just take minute and relish the sweetness of Levi William at 3 years and 9 months old. Y'all. He's a dream come true. His lashes have mamas on the playground patting me on the back- whether they're congratulatory or consolatory I'm not sure. His daddy wants us to grow out his mop of thick, rich brown hair longer for the winter months. We're well on our way. It's starting to curl up on the ends. That smile of his- charm and innocence and mischief all co-mingling leaving me a puddle on the floor. Mike and I just delight in the way he winds up his whole body as he runs, and the way he uses inflection and tone just stunning us with his intrinsic sense of humor.

He's been sleeping on a pallet in our room pretty often lately, needing some respite at the end of the day and a place to be still and quiet. There have a been some nights that the pallet just won't do. I love it. He cuddles up close and whispers 'I love you' as he turns over in his sleep. After I saw the girls off to school one morning last week I got back under the covers just to take in some more time with him before the day ran away and stole more of his toddler-hood. He was awake and I said, "Levi, you make me so happy." He quickly responded, "Aw! You make me happy too, mom!" with the cutest grin and his eyes all squinty. Delicious. He's just scrumptious.

Lately we've discovered that our Tank is an introvert. It makes sense that we wouldn't have noticed before- his older siblings are willing to play when he wants to, and leave him be when he doesn't. Now that he's got a buddy 24/7, we've had to make some adjustments based on what's best for him. He likes being alone. Not all the time, not even half the time. Sometimes. He looks at me with a strained expression and asks if I'll please let him upstairs alone to play. Up he goes and I close the gate behind him. A while later, he comes down with some pep in his step and ready to play.

Some of our favorite Tank-isms:

"Is that funny? Yes or no!"
"I yubt you!" (I love you)
"Dad! There's water in my peepee!" (Needs to go potty!)
Me: You're my favorite! Levi: Yes. I am!
"In just a minute?"
"I am your favorite."
When we answer a question for him and he GASPS.
Um! Nope.
I awake now!! Hey mom and dad! I awake now!
I need breakfast!
Can I hab a snack?
Do we hab toot-ties? (cookies!)
I need my docket (rocket) backpack!

There's so much more. The slice of time we get to enjoy them in this whimsical state- our babies straddling the arduous responsibility that accompanies each birthday and the buoyant brilliance they arrive with as they devour the world with their wonder and awe? It's a meager slice, slipping through our greedy fingers, lost in the hustle of finding shoes and wiping noses, doling out one more snack and digging deep for that self-control to be consistent through one more tantrum. I'm taking my best shot at finding my footing on the balance beam we all walk as parents- cherishing each remnant of their baby-hood even as we cheer their strides in independence.

Use Your Voice

Kherington doesn't like to rock the boat at school. When she's at home with the people she knows best, she is assertive and opinionated. When she's in her classroom she flies under the radar when it comes to conflict.

The last couple of weeks have been opportunities for growth for our girl. When she told us through tears that two little boys called her ugly and then a few days later a little girl slapped her arm and tugged her roughly, I fluctuated between heartbreak and outrage. Neither were helpful to my sweetheart, so I got it under control while I held her and exchanged meaningful, venomous looks with Mike. When we all calmed down we talked.

We talked about value. Value she carries- not because of the things she does, or how she looks. Not the sort of value that depends on variables that she could manipulate, but the kind of value that belongs to her because of whose she is. We reminded her that the King of the World holds her in high regard. That she is a daughter of the King (gal 3:26). His word says that 'He is with you, Kherington- your warrior, mighty to save. He delights in YOU! He will quiet you with His love, and He will rejoice over you with singing.' (zeph 3:17). You are fearfully and wonderfully made (ps 139) and you are so valuable. Value- because you are His.

We talked about truth. And how lies can hurt, especially when they're given the weight of belief. Being able to discern truth from lies, fact from opinion, the productive nature of constructive criticism from the destructive force of words meant to harm- it's a skill that is in an unfortunate necessity. One that tears callously at the cloak of her innocence while we work furiously to teach her to patch the holes with the armor of God.

We think she's amazing. Captivating dark eyes and a winning smile. She actually looks just like my mom with Mike's family's dimpled chin, it makes me smile every day. Kher is a problem solver that takes the initiative in all sorts of scenarios. Planning comes second nature to her. She like rules and clearly defined parameters. Just like her daddy. She is kind, courageous, compassionate. My sweet, helpful shadow. We know who she is. She needs to know who she is.

One of the weighty duties we have as her parents is to speak truth into her life. This is where the consistency we laid as foundation in her toddler-hood bears fruit- she trusts us. She trusts implicitly that what we tell her is the truth. When she was a tiny thing it was: if you do this the consequence will be that. Now that she's older, we're gratefully reaping the rewards of consistent parenting. She believes what we say.

The best and most beautiful result of her trust is that because she trusts us, we can point her to Jesus. We can show her how we, Mike and I, are trusting Him to meet our needs, be a salve to our wounds, a restful and comforting embrace when we are weary and tender. Laying that foundation when she was little led us here. Trusting us leads to trusting him. Believing in our words and our love for her, blends beautifully- like watercolors- into trusting His words and His truths. Kherington understanding that we set rules and boundaries for her benefit and because we love her helps her to understand the value of the guardrails that the Father lovingly put in her life.

A hope I harbor for my children is that by knowing the value they carry because of Jesus, their view of others would be changed. That labels put on them or people around them would just fall off, having no where to grip because lies find no grip on God's perfect truth. I hope that they are skillful advocates for themselves and for those the tug at their hearts, guided by what's real and empowered by a sense of worth rooted deep in the soil of their souls.

Our Right Thing

I must have been two or three years old. It was after Halloween and I'd been told not to eat my candy. Even then though, the chocolate called to me. Tiny Mandy found a cloak of invisibility (also known as a threadbare towel) and plopped in the middle of the floor to devour her treasure with gusto. Not two candies in and I was busted. The crackling of the wrappers were the giveaway. I know this now. Ha! Every time we get to talking about memories or stories, the kids request that one. They always laugh and so do I.

Last weekend on our way to Jace's scrimmage (Go Jace!) this story came up. Something clicked. I don't know why it did, maybe it was to commemorate the 87 thousandth time this story had been rehashed. Whatever the reason, I'll take it. Between doling out snacks and reciting the towel story, Mike and I were discussing what our month would look like, in particular, an upcoming event where we will have the privilege of sharing our experience with foster care alongside the Foster Home Developer from our agency. We hope we'll be able to shed some light on the 'unknown' aspect of foster care. Letting people into our family bubble is something we love to do. Since the beginning of our journey though, we've run into something a bit uncomfortable for us- accolades.

People are so kind and sincere when they tell us we're 'amazing!', or that I'm 'supermom', or that what we're doing is 'so awesome!', and our responses tend to miss the mark at expressing how we feel when we hear these things.

What we'd like to say is that we are just doing our Right Thing. Foster care is not everyone's Right Thing and that's ok, but it is our Right Thing. We don't feel extraordinary. We're not. Mostly we feel stretched and pulled- achy from the combination of joy and uncertainty that we're living. The truth of it is that on the eve we were issued our facility number  I almost pulled the plug. I was confronted with the reality of the brokenness we would encounter, and I wanted to run. Wanted desperately not to care. Asked God if maybe I'd misunderstood the thing we were supposed to do. After some time, the conviction I felt and the trust I was extending that He would know the best way to navigate the storms ahead was enough to move forward. Barely.

The sobering conclusion I came to was that knowing about the plight just beyond the horizon of my comfort zone and making a conscious decision to put my head back in the sand was the wrong thing. It was irresponsible. Unbeknownst to me, our sweet LG was being born that very same night. Had I decided that my fears outweighed my faith, she would still have been born. CPS would have *hopefully* quickly found a home for her, and she would have *hopefully* been just fine. Shielding my eyes from the sharp glare of the world of foster care wouldn't have meant that it was gone, only that I was choosing not to look at it. For me that was unacceptable.

You'll find no evidence of a hero complex here. We're not out to save anyone. Jesus has that covered and He's good at His job. We are just living out our Right Thing. My desire is to have hands that hold the broken and legs that leave a lasting legacy by the miles that they walk. We deserve no veneration, expect no accolades. Our desire? For our children to know who we are by the things we do and not by the words we say. Our hope? That doing our best to normalize foster care would one day lead to a county where being a foster family is the rule rather than the exception. 

The danger that hides within words meant to encourage is that setting our family apart as 'amazing' or 'incredible' implies that there's something different from "them" and "us". It creates a chasm that leaves potential foster families far from those that have gone before. There are children right now who are waiting for a home-  these Littles don't need 'incredible'. They're not looking for 'amazing'. A safe place, with arms that hug, and a heart that's willing will do just fine.

Building bridges out of knowledge that may lead to an abundance of safe and loving nests for kids to land in? That's incredible. That's amazing. That's what we need. That's what we want to be a part of.

Here's where I tell you what I meant when I said "things clicked". In my story from earlier I reasoned with my toddler wisdom that if I just covered myself up really well, no one would see me. I could hide beneath this flimsy piece of fabric and it would shield me from consequences and responsibility. I think sometimes it's easy to be that toddler, covering ourselves with our words, our motives, our shoulda, coulda, woulda's. But people see who we are by our actions. The towel could have been a tent and I would have still been found out because I was in the middle of the room! My words can wrap around me, but they're invisible. I'll still be seen- because it's my actions that will tell my story. I want my children to find their Right Thing, have the courage to step out of their bubble and into the adventure that comes with 'yes'.

Stay In My Circle

A series of events unfolded today.

None were too out of the ordinary, but they were unexpected. And jarring. With our half-dozen home, we're just settling into a familiar gait. Things are predictable, if a little hurried and messy. A sense of dependability had crept in and oh, I clung to it like a life-preserver. I didn't know how tightly I was clinging. I couldn't see my white knuckles. I didn't feel the strain. But today, today, I did.

I stood at a crossroads of sorts where I knew I had an opportunity to make a choice- a conscious choice to jump enthusiastically down the rabbit hole of discouragement or to climb persistently towards joy. Y'all, jumping down a hole takes little effort. It's one decision and the rest is up to gravity. Climbing? That's a series of choices made over time that will take me somewhere. Climbing is not a passive move. Climbing takes work.

I'm so grateful I don't have to climb alone. In Nehemiah 8:10 (which I just happen to be reading today) the verse ends with "The joy of the Lord is your strength." It is. On this foster care journey of ours, we live in an uncomfortable hollow of emotional conflict- we know full well that these little ones don't belong to us. Reunification is always the goal of foster care. And it's a beautiful goal. It's a worthy goal. A goal that we believe in. One that we're actively a part of.

The story of 'Truck' and 'Trucker', you guys, It's written on my heart and when Truck goes home, we'll celebrate wholeheartedly because 'home' is with his Daddy. Ours is a safe place, one where he can feel loved and have some stability while things get worked out. I can't tell you what it is to look at another parent and have them thank me for loving their kiddo. Words are not enough when it comes to describing the honor it is to come alongside another parent in a situation like this. To get to cheer them on, to be in their corner, to admire their tenacity and humility. We are changed.

Our LG has a different sort of story, one that isn't as clear-cut. A story that lends us no stable ground to stand on. The wave of our soul-deep love for her crashes against the shoreline of the circumstances and we're hanging out in the boat hoping we're paddling in the right direction.

Over the course of her case, the verse that bubbles up has always been Exodus 14:14 "The Lord will fight for you, you need only be still," The Israelites were camped out by the sea, they'd just seen what they thought was impossible- Pharaoh letting them hit the road after Moses performed miracle after miracle of the Lord. Then they look back and oh man! Here comes Pharaoh and they start saying how they would've just been better off where they were. Huh? God delivered them. He'd already delivered them, and when that same enemy came after them again, an enemy that had already been defeated, they were like *throws up hands* well that's the end of that, we out. No. Moses says, God's got our backs. The Lord will fight for you, all you've got to do is be still and let him.

For me, this is a reminder to stay in my circle. My circle is what I'd call my area of responsibility or the things that I have been given authority over. I need to just focus on my circle and let other people be in charge of their circle. I don't need to fall into the trap of taking responsibility for things I have NO business taking ownership of. I just need to do my job. And I need to trust that as I do my job and all the other people do their jobs, that the Lord is going to do His job. And He will.

Intentional

I'm not sure where to start, so right now seems like a good launching point.

There are currently four kids in my bed. They're talking, they're watching a movie, they're playing on their kindles. Another is napping, and our oldest is finishing up his chore. Six. We're intentionally indulging in a lazy sort of day.  The day-to-day lately is alternating between drowning and treading water over here and if I've any hope of swimming, I've gotta let go a little bit. So we're here. And I think it could be worse, but I'm sure it will get better.

Yesterday I posted this to my Instagram:

Six kids is more of this.
More play and more disagreements.
It's more lessons on sharing and less down time.
Half a dozen kids is cutting way back on winging it and upping the structure.
It's meant learning my non-negotiables and being able to let the rest slide.
We are a month in and about 25 of those days  have been victories.
The rest? Evidence of our fortitude,
Testimony of His faithfulness.

Intentionality has always been important to me in parenting. I want to have relationship building conversations and memory making experiences with my kids. I want to spend the majority of my time focused on the now so that when I look back, I don't lament all the things I missed because I was looking at my screen, or at someone else's life, or (even though I LOVE reading) a reality that only exists between the pages of a book. The memories I want my children to have are constructed every day.

In this season, choosing a calm mind over a calm house is what we're doing. Right now intentionality means saying yes to a bit more chaos than we're used to in order to give our family room to settle into a new groove.

My good friend Elisabeth over at A Magnified Life says "Keep your eyes on your own lane." I love that. So, I'm over here keeping my eyes on my own lane because right now, we're still very much in an adjustment period and it would be all to easy to look at someone else's lane and feel discouraged. By 'keeping my eyes on my own lane' I'm deciding to notice the good going on here.

*My big kids are having meaningful conversations with people outside of our family about foster care.
*There's a sweet little boy who hasn't really skipped a beat since moving in and a committed and loving Daddy working hard to bring him home.
*The littlest member of our family is the happiest, most awesome little baby and she makes having an infant a cake walk.
*Circumstances are forcing Mike and I to talk about our needs, our walk, and our expectations. Our marriage has been fortified because of it.
*Our amazing village has been the hands and feet of Jesus as they have supported us and filled in the gaps we couldn't.

I'm really looking forward to documenting the lessons we've learned and are learning and sharing our journey in a way that demystifies foster care. If you've made it through this post and have suggestions on a new post by either Mike or myself, please get in touch.

-Mandy