The Bittersweet End

Endings are hard for me.  You too?  I know.  I have seen lots of encouraging boards on Pinterest talking about endings being the new beginnings.  A window closes so a door can be opened and all that.  But still.  This week I have come to terms with an ending that is approaching for our family-the end of our foster care career.

This decision has been a long time coming.  In fact, we have actually made the decision before but it did not last.  The phone rang and I begged my husband to take just one more child.  This time is different, though.  We are in a new reality as a family and foster care just does not fit where we are headed.  Earlier this week, Toby and I attended a court hearing for our precious little foster daughter.  I was questioned and accused in front of the court on repeated counts by a family member of the child and the decision became clear in my mind-I am done.  Make no mistake, in the past 14 years I have questioned and belittled by biological family members on a regular basis.  This was not the first time, but it will be the last.  We will see this case through and then we will be done.

Our family needs to be a family.  We need to rely on each other's strength and undivided attention to get through the challenges that come with raising children with significant, although very different, special needs.  Toby and I are faced with difficult decisions about how we can best keep our family safe and healthy and it is HARD.  Our hearts and minds are overwhelmed.

I love the mission of the foster care system-to keep kids safe and help then heal from past trauma until they can be with their parents again.  However, the mechanics and the barriers that exist in the foster care system have taken their toll.  It is hard work and a little piece of my heart has gone along with each child I have cared for.  The system as a whole does not work in the best interest of the child often enough.  It is broken, and unfortunately so are many of the children.

To my devoted foster parent friends, I applaud you for continuing down this grueling path.  You amaze me every day.  I will continue to be your biggest fan and supporter.  Of course, we will maintain our foster license because of Angie's situation and I will remain an advocate for children in and out of foster care.  And who knows what door will open next?

What Inclusion Really Means

This morning, I posted this picture on Facebook:

As my Facebook friends commented on the picture, I was touched by their kindness.  I considered how people, young and old, view Angie.  I can't say for sure but I think she is accepted as just as valuable and deserving as anyone else.  In the past, this thought made me grateful and I am not ungrateful now, but I see it differently.  I used to think I should thank people for accepting Angie, but why would I?  She deserves it.

My amazing friend, Sally Bartlett, is a huge advocate for inclusion for children with special needs.  Her idea of inclusion is that children (and adults) with special needs should be included and valued in the same way as other children (and adults)-EVERYWHERE in the community.  Sally came to Progress Center to talk to the staff this week and she inspired me to consider what inclusion means for Angie.  I have tried to adopt an objective point of view about where we are on the road to inclusion for Angie.  And then, the above picture was sent to me by Angie's wonderful assistant.

Inclusion is a lifelong journey for individuals with special needs.  I believe that our community has provided a unique model of truly getting it.  I know, I am saying it again.  I would not trade this little town for anything! It is not just the kids. Kindergarteners tend to be pretty accepting anyway.  But, as children get older, they model what they see adults doing.  It is all of us, working together to make our community inclusive and accepting for people with all types of limitations.

On Halloween, Angie was invited by two special ladies to ride at the front of the Halloween parade. Angie waved like a princess and truly behaved as if she had won the lottery.  She is still talking about her experience and I think it will be one of those memories that will return for years to come. Once again, she was made to feel important, not "special".  My heart was so happy as I watched my girl have her moment.

I am going to continue making inclusion a goal for our community. Instead of thinking Angie cannot participate in activities because of one or another of her limitations, I will ask myself-Why not?  I know that is what Sally would do.