Why Can't I Stop?

I posted a couple of months ago about our family retiring from doing foster care.  Well, that didn't happen.  I can't stop.  It sounds crazy, I know.  I also can't stop eating sour, chewy, Jolly Rancher candy.  They are delicious and satisfying in their own way.  I am faced with the fact, though, that there is an overwhelming need in our county and I cannot turn my back.  Almost every week, children are sent to foster homes outside of the county because there are no local foster homes available.  They are separated from siblings, relatives, teachers, and school friends.  When they move they lose everything.

I am not stopping the kids from being sent away.  We are only an emergency, short-term resource.  We keep the children in our home for a week or two until an appropriate placement is found.  But it is something.  I should not feel that I have to justify what I do, but somehow I do.  It is hard to understand, I know, but what a blessing these children have been to our family!  My emotions are all over the board on the topic of foster care.  Deep, deep sorrow for the children who have lost everything and have endured unimaginable pain.  Anger and also sadness for the parents who have lost their children.  Regret that I cannot do more.  And so many other emotions along the way.

This weekend, my heart is broken for the 18 month-old child in our home.  He is lost and afraid, difficult to soothe.  He resists engaging with us and he seems not to know what he needs, either.  To be honest, he has cried much of the weekend, despite our efforts to comfort him.  We don't always have what a child needs and that is hard too.  Each day, though, there have been tiny victories as we try to unlock the hidden joy inside this little boy.  Last night, he let me rock him and after a few minutes, a contented hum began to come from his body.  He was finally at peace for a few moments and soon he was asleep. Victory.

How long, I wonder, will this go on?  I don't know.  We recently learned that we will be grandparents later this year. Do grandparents do foster care?  I know they can, I am just not sure where it will fit for us.  Who am I kidding, though?  If I can't stop now, what makes me think I will feel any differently when my own family has expanded?  Grandparents.....that is a subject for another day.

Angie turned seven last week.  Seven!!!  Can you believe it?  I could not write about it at that the time because I truly was speechless.  I am not sure what is different about this birthday, but it really made me think.......

I used to think that Angie cheated death when she overcame her life-threatening seizures.  In fact I counted on it.  I now realize that I was wrong.  So wrong.  If God had intended death for Angie back then, it would have happened.  God does not make mistakes.  He intended all along for Angie to remain on this Earth to teach us what really matters.  Her job is so important.  Her life is a gift to us all.

She is doing an amazing job, don't you think?  Really, it is easy to provide pat explanations, but if you know Angie, you know that this is true of her.  She makes Toby and I laugh every single day.  We never have to worry about taking ourselves too seriously.  She calls me "sweetheart" and she never meets a person without introducing herself and saying, "nice to meet you".  She faces every challenge with a smile and she never complains about the activities she cannot participate in.  She is willing to try anything.  How many of us can say that?

My life is better for having this precious girl in it.  Her future remains unknown and we never forget that insidious Sturge-Weber syndrome has taken for too many precious angels too soon.  Today, I am grateful for the seven years and the gift of a new perspective on life.  God is in charge of this journey and I am excited to see where it leads us next.

I want to leave you with a couple of more pictures from Angie's bowling party yesterday.  She absolutely loved it!

Journey on!!

Mother's Day

Mother's Day.  You knew I would have something to say about that, didn't you?  I am passionate about the institution of motherhood.  If I have learned anything about motherhood over the years it is this: It is far from simple.

I used to think you gave birth and then you were a Mother.  You do and you are.  But what about the other Mothers?  The Mothers who give birth but do not take their child home to raise them?  The Mothers who care for children born to other women, through foster care or adoption, or just by choice?  What about the Mothers who we call "stepmothers"?  The Mothers whose parenting was interrupted because they were unable to keep their child safe and healthy?  And the Mothers whose children were taken to Heaven far too soon?

We are all important.  To our children, none of these is less a "Mother".  Our children's identities depend on us honoring each Mother on Mother's Day, and every day.  Every child identifies with their biological mother, regardless of whether she is a present in their daily lives.  I have learned through being a foster parent that no event, history of neglect, or even a crime can steal a child's love for their Mother.  For those Mothers whose biggest mistake is forgetting to send a child to school with their favorite toy on "show and tell" day this is good news.  For the Mother who is not parenting, whatever the reason, this is very good news.

So, as Mother's Day approaches, I think of my children's "other mothers" and of my own, as I was adopted as an infant.  There is no gift more precious than the gift of life and nothing can take that honor away from you.  In a culture that upholds a woman's "right to choose" you chose life and my life will never be the same because of your choice. I don't want to start a debate about which mother is "real" and which has contributed the most. Tomorrow is a day for all of us.  We are all important and have contributed to our children's legacy.

Motherhood is hard.  It deserves celebration.  Tomorrow, I celebrate all mothers and their gifts and sacrifices.  None of you is less or to be forgotten.


"But behind all your stories is your mother's story, for hers is where yours begins."
Mitch Albom-For One More Day