What is "real"?

John 3:16   For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only (his biological) Son, that whoever believes in him (and is adopted by him) shall not perish but have eternal life.

  Galatians 4:4-5  
But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman (biological), born under the law, ⁵ to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship.^[b]

Ephesians 1:5  He predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will...

Romans 8:14  For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God.  For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons...

(words in red added by me)

So, my children have a mother who loves to write.  I would write all day if I had the chance.  I write for this blog, I used to write for Associated Content, which is now Yahoo something or the other and an online site called HUB.  
A friend of mine who read some of my articles and was compiling a book on the harder side of adoption, asked if she could use a couple of my articles in her book.  I told her I was glad for anyone to use them in any helpful way they wanted too.  Foster and foster adoption is my heart, and I was happy to help.
The book was published, and I was thrilled.  I bought 12 copies right away to give to my children.  It's a lovely book, called "Tied With Heartstrings" and I cried as I read the struggles other adoptive moms have gone thorough.  Adoption is pretty tough, and foster adoption toughest of all, in my opinion.
Adoption is also beautiful, and, if you will read the verses above, it was God's idea before the world began.  Because ALL of us, if we are Christians, have been adopted by God.  God had ONE biological son, Jesus.  The rest of us were adopted and given full heirship as God's sons and daughters.  Aren't we thankful that God loves us, his adopted children, just as much as he loved his biological son, Jesus?

I write about fostering and adoption a lot, because I believe it's something every Christian family should consider.  No child should be left in the system to age out with no real family.  Every Christian should think about welcoming a child without a family into their home.  It doesn't have to be through the state.  Just pray.  Tell God you are willing to take a child, then stand back and see what happens.  That's what I did.  And over the years, I have cared for more than 60 foster children, and have adopted five.  Am I done?  I don't know.  Let's wait and see what God does.

So, on with my story.  And I am not angry, honestly, but it may sound a bit like I am...

Angel-Leah has always struggled a bit with things people say to her about her adoption.  It's not adults but children.  There have been many times in her life that children have said hard, ugly things to her.  I don't think the children mean to be as ugly as they sound.  I think they truly do not understand.  And that's the fault of the adults in their lives.  Some of the meanest things said to Angel-Leah have been from children whose parents know her story well, in fact, know her birth parents, and have not explained what adoption means and why adoption sometimes occurs.  It's not fair.  I understand the need to protect their own children from a life story, but I need to protect my daughter - and yes, she is MY daughter, too.

Last week our church had an ordination and there were a LOT of visitors.  It seems that several of these families were families that had read Tied With Heartstrings, and they either read it to their children or their children (several of them) were old enough to read it themselves.  And they must have been told that Angel-Leah was the same little girl who went to Osceola church.

Now, let me give you a sample of some of the things that were said to her.  Here we go:

"Don't you love your birth mother?  Then why did you go live with Carla?"
"You love your birthmother?  Don't you love Carla?  She didn't HAVE to adopt you, you know."
"You love Carla?  It wasn't your birthmothers fault you got adopted.  She didn't HAVE to give birth to you, you know.  You should be grateful she didn't abort you."
"You should be grateful to Carla.  She didn't have to keep you.  Maybe she didn't want you.  Maybe CPS made her keep you."
"Do you miss your daddy that died?  He wasn't even your real daddy, you know."
"So Tommy is your only real brother?"

Yes.  These were real things that children said to Angel-Leah last week.  And people, this is terrible.  And it is horribly hurtful to a little 11 year old girl.  The children who were talking to her were both older and younger.  She says there were about 5 or 6 of them in about two different groups who said these things to her in the same evening.

Here's the truth about Angel-Leah, and Selah, and Luke, and Tommy and Cynthia.

They have two mommies.  They have the real mommy that birthed them. And they have me, the mommy who changed their diapers (well, okay, I didn't change Cynthia  :) ), who wipes their tears, who cleans their faces and the floor when they are sick, who makes sure they take their baths and brush their teeth, who makes sure they eat something besides candy at least some of the time, who makes sure they wear their coats, who kisses them when their noses are runny, who taught them to read and to add and to say thank you and to pray and taught them about God...and I am a real mommy, too.

It's okay for them to love both their mommies.  I would not have it any other way.

I didn't HAVE to adopt any of them.  I WANTED too.  I was and am GRATEFUL for the gift of them.  I am GRATEFUL, and I am sure the other two real mommies are too, that they had them and didn't abort them.

The daddy that died was their real daddy, and they mourn him like any other child would.  Two of them never knew their birth daddies.  Bill was the only daddy they ever knew.

And yes, Tommy is Angel-Leah's real brother.  Angel-Leah also has two half brothers that are real brothers.  She has five adopted brothers who are real, too, and a real half biological sister and five real adopted sisters.  None of us are play dough.  All of us are real, and we are a real family who lives together just like anyone else's family does.

Angel-Leah isn't the only one who has had hard things said to her.  I have too.  Here is a sample:

"You should mentor her birthmother.  Then maybe someday, she will get better, and you can give her her child back.  What?  You wouldn't give her back?  Have you no mercy?"
"There is NO WAY you could ever love an adopted child as much as you love a biological child."
"I would NEVER adopt an older child.  You just don't have as good a chance that they will become Christians."
"Someday, that child is just going to run back to his/her birth family and break your heart." 

My answers to those statements?


No, I won't give them back.  A child is not a commodity to be passed around.

Yes, I can and do love all my children with the same fierce love that would have me lay down my life for them.

God does not have grandchildren.  Each one of us must choose to serve the Lord, or serve the world.  No matter how your children come to you, or at what age, they must make their OWN decision.

My children will not have to run away from me back to their birth families.  One set of siblings, we have a wonderful open adoption and see some of the birth family often.  One 18 year old adopted child has already made a bit of contact with her birth family through facebook and the phone.  The other two, when the time comes, I will stand beside them and help them do this difficult thing, if that's what they choose to do.

So, what am I hoping to accomplish with this blog?  Just this, I guess...

The story in the book stopped when Angel-Leah was four years old.  It was written about a time just before and after her adoption, while she was still struggling with who she belonged too.  She loves me and I love her.  We have worked through that difficult time, and we will likely work through other aspects of her adoption for the rest of her life, like now, when people have said ugly, hard things to her.  As of now, she is firmly established in our family, she is OURS, I am her MOTHER, and she is my DAUGHTER, and we love each other as fully as any other mother and daughter love each other.  We are both "real" to each other.  Bill was "real" as her daddy.  And Rachael, Celeste, Gage, Max, Spencer, Beau, Mary Susannah, Cynthia, Luke, Selah and Tommy are "real" brothers and sisters, along with her two birth brothers and her little birth sister.  How horrible to try and say otherwise.

Mommies and Daddies, if there is an adopted child in your church or homeschool group, or anywhere else, help your child understand what adoption is.  Help them understand that it was not the adopted child's choice to leave their family.  Help them know they just might love both their birth family and their adopted family, and that is OKAY!!!  Hear me, that's OKAY!  Explain to them that an adopted family is a REAL family in the same way we are a REAL child to God our father, because He adopted us.  It's hard enough for your daddy to die without someone asking if you even miss him, since he wasn't your "real" daddy.  It's crummy to have someone tell you that your brothers and sisters and your mother and father aren't "really" your family.

So this was hard to know how to write.  I hope I have conveyed to some of you what your children may be saying to an adopted child, because although I am writing mostly about last Sunday, which was by far the worst it has been, this has been happening to Angel-Leah all her life.  When you talk about adoption to your child who was not adopted, be sure and explain to them that adoption makes a real family, and it doesn't necessarily erase the love that a child who was adopted at an older age might have for their first family, and that's okay.  It's okay to love both.  And it wasn't the child's fault that he or she lost that first family.  They didn't get to choose where they wanted to live.

Help your children learn to be gentle with my children, please.  They have been through so much, already...

Here is the latest picture of me and my six children who still live at home.  I love all 12 of my "real" children so much!!


1 John 3:1   See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.

Left Field

Philippians 3:13-14    But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

 Peaches are everywhere.  Pressure canner brought in from storage.  It's a 100 degree Texas day, but I have two boxes of peaches to take care of.  I'm cutting, dicing, peeling, sticky, and HOT.
And an 8 year old girl sticks by my side like glue, talking all the while.

I tune in to her chatter just in time to hear:

"Sometimes, I think this is just a dream, and I will wake up, and I will be with (birthmom)."

Wow....that came out of left field.
 And it hit me right in the chest.  I was not expecting that blow.

Take a deep breath, Carla, and be calm, because this is one of those things adoptive moms cannot make a mistake with.

"So, what do you think you would be doing if this was a dream and you woke up with (birthmom)?"
"Oh, I don't know.  I'd probably eating dry cereal for supper instead of peach cobbler."

She's been listening to big sister.  It's been half her life since she lived with her first family.

"Have you been dreaming about her?"  I ask.
"I dream about her a lot." she answers.

I live in right field.  All the time.  And sometimes, I forget that there will always, always, be left field for the older adopted child.
And even though I ALWAYS live in right field, there are times I have to deal with left field, anyway.

I know she loves me, and I love her.  I forget there was ever another life before she came here, because I didn't live it.  Her big brother has lived here with me since babyhood.  I rarely think about that first family.

But she does.

And that's okay.  That's her truth.  If I try and deny it, or sweep it away, or insist that she cannot dream about waking up and being back with birthmom, I will damage her.

I have to stop in the middle of peeling peaches, and let her talk if she needs too.

Adoption for the older child is not always rainbows and butterflies.  Sometimes, most times, it is.  But sometimes, it hurts, even if bad things happened in the birth home.  Even if you are well adjusted and happy in your adoptive home.
Sometimes, you have to revisit left field and try to make sense of it all.

Because you can't help what you dream...

And hopefully, your adoptive mommy is strong enough to step into left field, even is she doesn't live there, and help you work through it.

The ups and downs of foster care and adoption

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”  John 16:33

 Recently, I got two of my essay's put into a book.  The lady who put the book together told me that a man in the writing class she attends approached her and her sister and asked them if they would put together a book by adoptive moms about the trials of adoption.  He wanted this because so many people who want to adopt but haven't yet only focus on the sweetness of the new baby, without ever comprehending the trials that often go along with adoption of any sort: domestic, international or foster.
Then I began to notice that several blogs I follow and links on facebook were about the trials of foster care and adoption.
I love facebook.  I have renewed a lot of old friendships on there, have kept up with my grandkids and even my own children I don't see often and have made new friends.  One of my missions on facebook is to help other moms realize that children are truly kind of fun.  Sometimes when we are in the midst of it all, we don't realize that.  But I am older and have raised several children to adulthood and watched them move off away from me, and I realize how terribly quickly it all goes by.  I don't want anyone to miss just enjoying their children before they aren't children anymore.

Another mission is to encourage people to foster and adopt children in the foster care system.  In doing that, I am afraid most of the time I only write about the funny and sweet stuff.  And maybe that's not fair, because along with the sweetness, it can be HARD!  It can be scary, and it can make you cry a lot.
So, with fairness in mind, I thought I would write a blog, exploring both the pros and cons, so that in encouraging you to consider this mighty work with God, I won't leave you with the impression that it's all - as the song goes and I age myself - "sunshine, lollipops and rainbows."  It's a hard, messy, tear stained, hurtful, scary, wonderful, happy, awe inspiring, loving and fulfilling experience.

So I am going to list some things, both good and bad, that have happened to me in doing foster care and foster adoptions.  I have actually had it pretty good, considering what some of my friends, both in real life and online have gone through.  I don't regret it one bit, although there are many things I will be just glad NOT to do over again.  And other things that still make me tear up because they were so beautiful.  Some of these things are experiences with children I have gone on to adopt, others are experiences with children who went on to be reunited with their families, or adopted by someone else. 

I will start with the cons.  These are only a small handful of things that I have actually gone through on this journey:

falling in love with a sibling group, only to watch two of them go back to their mother, a situation that no one but the main worker thought was a good idea and, years later, that fear was an actuality.

desperately wanting to adopt the baby of that sibling group, a baby who we were attached too and who was attached to us, only to have one social worker who should NOT have had anything to do with it fight us every step of the way.

and after that child was awarded to us by a judge, and we were going through the six month period before we could finalize his adoption, having that social worker tell me, "I can still remove this child if there is a serious incident."  And realizing she was watching, and had the power to decide what the serious incident could be.

fallling in love with a little boy I cared for from birth to seven months of age so desperately in the days when foster parents were not allowed to adopt their foster children, and watching him leave for an adoptive home.  And never knowing again what happened to him.

and many years later, falling in love with another foster baby I had from six months to twenty six months of age, and wondering if I would EVER be whole again when she was reunited with her extended family in another state.  The grief I felt had to be akin to a death.

standing in a court room while the father of the above baby accused me of sexually abusing her.  Sitting there in my long dress and headcovering, not allowed to say a word, just having to sit and listen and be ordered to take her to the doctor to have it checked out.  And she wasn't abused, the doctor determined, but by the time the exam was over, I almost felt like she had been...

having the same daddy scream and scream right in my face over a bruise on the baby until the social worker who tried to keep Luke from us hotlined me herself, and I had to be investigated.  Again, I was cleared.  But that was hard!

having a social worker call me and warn me NOT to bring baby to visits because daddy has gone crazy and they don't know what's going to happen.

having a social worker call me on a different day and tell me to meet them several blocks away and they will bring baby to me because daddy has gone crazy and they are afraid for my safety if I come to pick the child up.

having my 15 year old son tell me he doesn't care what I say as I am parked a few blocks away waiting for the social worker to bring baby, he will NOT lay down in the back seat if daddy shows up, but instead will fight to the death to protect me.

having a four year old I am in the process of adopting stand at my feet and declare "you will NEVER be my mommy!!"  "I will NEVER love you!"  "I only love my other mommy!"

trying to explain to a two year old that he's going back home to "mommy", who he has rarely seen in the past seven months, and doesn't really remember and only knew "me" has mommy. And watching him walk out the door with a social worker, then suddenly turn back and run to me, and I cupped his little face in my hands and assured him "it's okay" even though I wasn't sure it was, before he went on down the walk.

realizing my newly adopted two year old has a serious problem with rages so bad even my big 16 year old son can't control him.

having an adoption agency call me and ask me to adopt that same little girl I wanted to adopt seven years ago, the sister of my first adopted child and to take her little sister along with her, and I say yes and go through all the classes and spend the money I need to spend in order to get re licensed, and get accepted by the adoption agency, only to have the rug jerked out from under me when it was taken to CPS, who decided I couldn't have the girls after all because I am "too religious."

to have a child lay cuddled in my arms in bed while she describes the things that have been done to her.  And to later tell me things that she has seen.

to have people who don't understand what this is all about get mad and say things to me that hurt deeply, and make me cry.

to have to leave the church I love and moved to be with because they don't understand what I am doing and won't accept it.


Those are a few on the cons.  Now on to the happier pros!!

watching over the years as God gave me six sons to replace that foster baby twenty years ago that I loved and had to give back.

hearing a judge say "I move that the Raley's be allowed to adopt the minor child" when I went to a court parental termination hearing (after the social worker who was fighting us went on leave for a short time) praying only for hope that the baby won't be given to someone else.

leaving that same court hearing and looking up to see a church sign that declares "My peace I give you.  John 14:27" and feeling like God had just reached down and patted me on the head and said, "See?  I told you he was yours all along!"

seeing the children from that first sibling group I wanted to adopt seven years before, and watching the older girl sob as she hugged the little brother she had forgotten she had.

to have the child who stood at my feet and declared she would never love me, put her arms around me and tell me she DOES love me after all.  And she just didn't understand back then.  And I am her ONLY mommy.

to watch the little boy with rages come under control with diet and turn into the sweetest, most beautiful child who only has problems very rarely.

to have the mommy of the foster baby whose daddy was such a nightmare to work with friend me on facebook because "you were always so good" to her daughter.

to watch later as that same mommy regains custody of her daughter and see in pictures that the little girl looks happier than she has ever looked in the pictures I've seen of her over the years.  Her eyes no longer look so sad.

to have the adoption agency call me when the adoption of my sons sisters fails, and tell me "we try not to drop the ball, but we really did in this case.  Your family is the only stable influence in these girls lives.  Are you still interested in adopting them?"

hearing that my little daughter, on her last day of public school before she was adopted, when asked by her teacher to tell the class what "adoption" means, replied, "Adoption means you stay, and you never have to leave again."

hearing the little sister of this sibling group ask me over and over after her adoption, "I'm just one of your regular kids now, right?"  and "You won't forget I'm adopted tomorrow, will you?"  yes, you are, and no I won't!

To have the 16 year old tell her sister this is the first place she has ever lived where she felt safe.

There's so much more I could write on both pros and cons.  This is just a little bit.  I have learned that anything worth having is usually hard.  Pregnancy is hard.  Giving birth is terribly hard.  Fostering is hard.  Adoption is hard.  But in the end, the things you work the hardest on are usually the best things in life.  You don't appreciate something you don't put effort into getting near as much as you appreciate things you brought forth in blood, sweat, tears and anguish.   Like the Bible says in Psalms 126:5, I have sown in tears with all my children and still do, but I am reaping with songs of joy.

And sometimes, I even think of the oldies songs of my youth when I think about my life!!


My life is sunshine, lollipops and rainbows
That's how this refrain goes.
So come on Join In. Everybody.
Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows
Everything that's wonderful is sure to come your way
When your in love to stay.

All but two of my children and all of my grandchildren on Easter 2013

Adoption language: what words to use

Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body. Proverbs 16:25

 

A friend tagged me on facebook yesterday in a post entitled "10 things NOT to say to adoptive parents" and asked if I agreed with it.  While this post was about international adoption, and I have adopted five times through foster care, there were still about three things that I recognized and I did agree with.

I thought it might be good to write my own post about adoption language, just to enlighten people.  Because I don't think people usually ever intend to be rude or say wrong things.  And I don't mind questions at all - in fact, I LOVE to talk about adoption, and one of my missions in life is to encourage Christian people to consider adoption as a beautiful, delightful ministry.  Yes, it can be very hard, but anything worthwhile usually is, right?

So in this post, I don't want to tell you things NOT to say, but rather, how to word your questions and say things in the right way:

#1, and this is the biggy.  Let me express again, of all the things NOT to say, this is the number one thing, and it is very, very VERY important that you never say it in the hearing of an adopted child:
"Which ones are your 'real' children?" and a variation of that is: "Which ones are 'your own' kids?"
If you ask me that, my answer to both questions is always going to be "All of them."  I don't have a plastic kid in the bunch.  They are all real.  They are all my own.  All 12 of them.
Imagine, if you will, how it feels to a child to hear someone ask their mother if they are their 'real kid', or which ones are the mothers 'own kids'?
One of my daughters cried in my arms one day, saying "I just wish I had been born to you!!" Well, I wish she had been, too.  But as I explained to her, being born to someone is only a small part the whole picture.  Ten years later, that part of life would be over, anyway.  We have moved on from there.  We would still be where we are right now, whether I had carried her in my womb or not.  I rarely think about which of my children I have given birth too and which I didn't.  I am too busy with the every day life of raising them to dwell on that part!  Yes, I have some amazing birth stories that I tell sometimes, but I also have some amazing adoptions stories to tell, too.
I do understand what you are trying to ask me, and I do not mind the question a bit.  So, the way to ask that question,  when the children are not around, is to say "which of your children are biological, and which are adopted?" Again, I love to talk about adoption and to encourage people to consider it.

#2, which is yet another variation of #1, is, "Are any of them 'real' brothers and sisters?"  Again, my answer will always be "Yes, all of them are 'real' brothers and sisters."
The same child as above - my more sensitive one - came to me after a homeschool event one day and said, "I wish people would quit asking me if Luke is 'really' my brother!!"  I explained to her what people meant when they asked her that, that they didn't mean to be rude, and that she should just answer them, "Of course he's really my brother!"  She could go into greater detail if she wanted too, and tell them that Tommy is her real brother in two ways, biological and adopted, while Gage, Max, Spencer, Beau and Luke are her real brothers in one way, adopted, and that she even has two more brothers that are half biological brothers and they are also real brothers in yet another way.  I laughingly told her by that time, they will be so confused they will quit asking questions in self defense.  But I told her the best thing to do is have mercy and not be offended by the questions.
The way to ask that question, and again, ask the mother when the child is not around, is "Are some of your adopted children biologically related?"  That question is just fine to ask, and I do not mind answering it!

Some things people say to adoptive parents really express their own fears of adoption.  Usually those fears are ungrounded.  At least, I think they are.  I haven't raised an adopted child to adulthood yet, so I will likely have more wisdom in a few years.  Here are a few of those things:

#3  "Aren't you afraid when they grow up, they will leave you and run back to their 'real' ( there's that word again...sigh...) family?"
No, I am not afraid of that.  My goal in raising my adopted children is that they will never have to choose between us.  Three of my adopted children lived with their first families for a while, one of them for most of their childhood, and have memories of them.  I don't want them to ever feel like it's a case of having to choose "them or us."  I don't have much doubt they will want to meet and spend time with their biological families when they grow up.  In fact, we have an open adoption with two children and we already spend a lot of time with the biological family.
My prayer is that I will have instilled in my children the love of God and maybe they will even help save the unsaved in those biological families.  That they will be a light where there is none.  Not only am I NOT afraid of that, but I keep up with biological family members that we do not have an open adoption with as well as I can so that I can actually help the children when I think they are ready to be reunited with their biological families, if they want to be.  Facebook is a wonderful tool for that.

#4, and amazingly, I have only heard this from fellow Christians, and it never ceases to amaze me:  "I would never adopt an older child!  You don't have as much chance of them becoming Christians.  Your outcome is not always so good."
So what does that mean, exactly?  That older children are not as worthy as a child fresh from the womb?  That we should just leave those children to non Christians to raise?
Aren't we glad God thinks we are ALL worthy of adoption?  Even those of us who are already pretty old and have made a mess of our lives?

Yes, I understand your fear, especially if you have other young children in your home.  Yes, I understand that not everyone would have the wisdom to take an older child to raise.  I am not sure I do, myself.  But with God's help, I will sure try.

I mean after all, not even the biological children of Christian parents always turn to the Lord for salvation.  And I have meet families where the older adopted children DID, and the biological ones, DIDN'T.

And lastly #5:  "There is no way you could love an adopted child as much as you love a biological child."
That statement is pure ignorance.  It's rare that someone will say that, and if they do, it is usually not directed straight to my face.  I have heard that one more on adoption forums than in person.  But I actually wrote an essay on that, and you can read it here.  Believe me, a 'real' mother loves ALL her children.  They are ALL under our wings.  They are all pieces of our hearts, walking around.

There are more, but these are the top five.  I love questions, even those that are worded wrong.  I do understand.  I am not offended.  Ask me, when my children are not around, anything you want, and I will answer.  Even if you don't say it the right way.  I might educate you on the RIGHT way to say it, but I am only doing that out of love for my children.  Let me guide you through the miracle of adoption.  Let me help you help someone else, and in doing so, let me help you work with God. 

Romans 8:14-16 For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God's Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, "Abba, Father." For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God's children.

Galatians 4:4-6  But when the right time came, God sent his Son, born of a woman, subject to the law. God sent him to buy freedom for us who were slaves to the law, so that he could adopt us as his very own children. And because we are his children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, prompting us to call out, "Abba, Father."


James 1:27  Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.


Matthew 18:5  And anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf is welcoming me.


1 John 3:1  See how very much our Father loves us, for he calls us his children, and that is what we are!

On being a foster parent: when accusations come

I wrote this article on June 26,2010, I thought I would reprint it on my blog today:

Being a foster parent is a fulfilling job, but there are risks involved. Separating a parent and child is a serious thing, and most parents react violently to having their child removed. Once the shock wears off, the parents will sometimes come to the realization that they are going to have to work with the state to fix what ever caused the removal, although it's still a volatile thing and parents can be quick to accuse the state of anything they can think of.
As a foster parent, I am usually able to have a good relationship with the parents of the children I care for. They soon realize I had nothing to do with their child being removed; I am just the lady hired to care for the child while they are going through this hard time. I do what I can to give the parents peace of mind. If they seem stable enough, I will usually give them my cell phone number so they can call me and check up on the child, or just talk. I enjoy the mentoring part of my job.
But once in a while there will be parents who are just angry. Usually those are the ones whose anger problem is why they are in this situation. Maybe they abused the child, or maybe they tore their family apart because they abused themselves and each other. Whatever the case may be, these parents are out to get everyone, including the foster parent.
I took care of a lovable little girl for twenty months who had parents like this. We called her MiMi. I loved MiMi immensely, but her father gave me trouble the whole time she was in my care. In fact, I was finally investigated myself because of accusations he made.
It began at court. I always attend the court hearings for my foster children. It gives me the opportunity to talk to the child's caseworkers, CASA workers and attorney. They hand me copies of their reports. I can listen to what is said to the judge by everyone involved. By the time I leave, I know where everything stands in my foster child's case, and what still needs to be done in order for the parents to have their child returned to them.
One hearing, while we waited for the judge, I could see MiMi's father talking angrily to his attorney and hand him a paper. The attorney glanced at me, looked embarrassed, and walked over to the CASA worker, showing her paper. The CASA worker soon came over to me. "Has MiMi had a bad diaper rash recently? Or a yeast infection?" She asked.
"Yes, she has. I showed it to the doctor at our last check up. I suspect it's because she has been taken off formula and put on whole milk, and also, she had some pineapple juice that she hadn't had before." I answered.
"Oh, you've had her at the doctor recently?" She asked.
"Oh, yes, just this month." I replied.
The CASA worker visibly relaxed.
I soon discovered what was up. MiMi's father had a letter from her mother, who was in jail. He had told her about MiMi's bad rash, and she wrote a letter to the court accusing me of abuse. She even had a letter from a "doctor" who had never seen MiMi, who said that the only way a child would develop a yeast infection was if they had been abused. I was horrified that anyone would think I had hurt this precious little girl.
The CASA worker stood up for me, telling the judge I was a good, experienced foster mother. The state's attorney showed the father that I had had MiMi at the doctor just within a day or so of his accusation. The father began to back track and try to change the dates. The judge finally ordered that I take MiMi to the doctor, along with the mother's letter, within the next 48 hours and have her examined.
I called my pediatrician when I got home, and made an appointment for the next day.
Although MiMi had not been abused before, I felt like she was by the time she had been examined. Although the doctor's examine was gentle and careful, I hated that she had to be put through that. The doctor confirmed she had not been abused, and agreed it was probably the milk causing her rash. He said yeast infections were so common in babies; they actually had a medicine for it. He gave me a prescription for the rash and also for the eczema and croup MiMi was prone too. The medicine and advice worked wonders, I was especially careful, and we didn't have problems after that.
But the embarrassment of being accused of such a serious charge made me overly cautious around MiMi's father, and caused me to make a mistake a few months later.
One morning, the day before MiMi had a visit with her father, I noticed a bruise that almost encircled her tiny forearm, and looked just like a grab mark. I knew I had not grabbed MiMi, and because she was always with me, I knew no one else had, either. She did, however, have a terrible sensory disorder, and often threw herself around while having tantrums.
Oh, how I dreaded the next day. If her father would accuse me of abuse over the toddlers diaper rash, what was he going to say about this bruise? My stomach clenched as their visit grew closer. As I dressed her the next day, I decided to cover some mosquito bites with little band aids, and put one over the bruise, too. I couldn't stand the thought of the confrontation he and I would have if he saw the bruise.
As I lifted her from the car at the CPS office, I considered taking the band aids off. I had not hurt MiMi, why did I feel like I had to hide anything? I struggled with indecision, and then decided to leave the band aids where they were. I took her into the office, handed her to her father under the supervisor's watchful eye, and as they went back to the visit room, I asked to see her caseworker. When she came out, I told her about the bruise and the band aids. I was glad I did.
Two hours later, I returned to pick her up and was ushered back to the visit room. Her father was throwing a fit. I saw right away he had taken off the band aids. He threw them at my feet as he screamed at me about covering up the bruise. I told him I was scared of him because of what he had done in court. I said I didn't expect him to be reasonable, and certainly he was not being reasonable. The caseworker nodded her agreement. My own worker quickly took the children into another room. I found out later she had quizzed my ten year old daughter while they were alone.
MiMi's father calmed down some after I talked to him, but he was not happy. After he left, I went to the room where the children were. MiMi ran into my arms, settling her head comfortably on my shoulder with her arms around my neck. I took another child's hand and we started out the door, with a caseworker on each side, studying MiMi's reaction to me. It was one of complete love and trust.
That night I received a call from my worker. She had decided to open an investigation. I could expect a visit very soon.
I was horrified. I had opened my home to these children and now "I" was being investigated? Was I in danger of losing my own children because I was a foster parent? How could the state do this to me? Weren't we supposed to be working together?
I considered telling them to come get the children and close my home. But when I calmed down, I knew I wasn't going to do that. I was committed to seeing these children through this awful time. In fact, the parental rights of our other foster daughter had been terminated, and we were planning on adopting her.
I knew, too, that sending the children away and closing our home wouldn't stop the investigation. Feeling helpless, I would just carry on and wait for the investigator.
The next two days were hard for me. I was so stressed it was hard for me to function. Being on the other end of Child Protective Services was a scary thing.
I settled into prayer, and asked God for peace every time I felt overwhelmed. And suddenly, it came. I had not hurt MiMi and I knew God would be faithful to keep us all safe. I calmed down enough that I began to almost forget what was coming.
It must have been a low priority, because was six days before the investigator came out.
But finally, there was a knock on my door, and I could see the shadow of a woman with a clipboard in her hand. She was nice and friendly and put me right at ease. She opened her notebook and began to ask me questions. She looked MiMi over. We talked.
Then, MiMi got mad. She wanted the rocking chair my son was in. When he wouldn't get up, she went into a full blown melt down. She screamed and thrashed and wouldn't be comforted. The investigator watched as I tried to talk to MiMi, who wasn't responding.
"Does she do this often?" The investigator asked.
"Well, she has a sensory disorder." I replied.
"Yes, that's in her records." The investigator said, looking at her notes.
"But she's really a sweet child when she's calm." I said, defending her. "She is a wonderful little girl and she doesn't always do this."
The investigator smiled at me. "I'm trying to establish another way she may have gotten the bruise." She said
."Yes," I said, feeling foolish. "She is prone to tantrums just like this."
The investigator soon closed her notebook, thanked me for my time, and got up to leave. Nervously, I asked her, "Did you find anything that concerns you?"
"No," She replied. "This case is closed. You will be getting a letter in a week or so. I am satisfied that everything is alright."
I closed the door, feeling a bit weak. God had been faithful and gotten us through this. I was so glad I hadn't done anything rash when my emotions were running so high.
We had MiMi for another five months after the investigation. Her parents lost their rights, and another relative did a homestudy and got custody of her. I miss her so much. I learned a lot from my experience with her family, and I hope I did them some good.
And I still love being a foster mother.

Sisters

My daughter, Mary Susannah, wrote a beautiful tribute to her little sister Angel-Leah, on the day before Angel-Leah's ninth birthday! 
Check it out, here:

http://suesuesstories.blogspot.com/2012/09/little-angel.html

More natural cleaners

One of the biggest pains about getting relicensed for foster/adoption is some of the standards...
I can do the invasion of my home with social workers coming to check out whether I have fire extinguishers and safety caps on all my outlets, checking on my trash can to make sure it has a lid, and wanting a fire escape route hanging on my walls (how DO you make that attractive?).

But the biggest pain to me is that all medicine, even the headache ones that I HAVE to have on a regular basis, my herbal remedies and itch creams have to be locked up in a box.  And that all my cleaners must be either locked up or out of reach of a child.

Even though the kiddos I'm adopting right now are 15 years old and 6 years old, sitting the Ajax on top of the fridge really wasn't safe enough, the caseworker told me.  I laughingly said if the girls were so determined at the age they are to harm themselves by climbing on top of the fridge to eat Ajax, then they might be beyond my ability to help them!

But I really, really want them to stay...

So I am after finding natural ways to replace even my Ajax, which is about the ONLY unnatural cleaner I buy.  I use essential oils and vinegar for just about everything!  And I don't want to have to find a key or climb on a chair every time I want to scrub out the sink.

So with one of my last visits to the Dollar General, I bought several boxes of baking soda.  Do you know they keep that in the cleaning supply isle now?
Then last night, I poured it into a glass jar, and added Tea Tree Oil and Lavender Oil, and shook it up.  This morning, I tried it on the bathtub before I took a bath.  It worked pretty well to clean the tub, but I think I will add some salt to it to give it just a bit more grit.

I found a wonderful cleaner on Pinterest: warm up vinegar and mix it half and half with Dawn dish washing detergent.  I was floored by how well that truly cleaned.  But guess what - dish washing soap is toxic, so CPS isn't going to go for that sitting around under the sink.   Once I run out of what I have already mixed up, I'm going to heat the vinegar and add a soap nut to each bottle, and see if it works just as well.  I think the kids could eat the soap nuts and be okay, although I am sure they will much prefer the all natural Popsicles in the freezer, right under the Ajax sitting on top.  They aren't crazy, you know!!

Country Life - my heart's desire

Psalm 20:3-5 May He give you what your heart desires and fulfill your whole purpose.


I don't love EVERYTHING about the country life.  Rattlesnakes bother me a lot.  I had already had one experience in May, when one surprised me in the henhouse.  You can read all about that HERE.  That was quite enough, thank you very much, especially since we have lived in this house for ten years, and it was only the second time we have encountered one.  I figured it should be at least ten more years before we had to do that again.  So I was quite dismayed to hear the kids coming running in screaming earlier this week that there was one in the baby bunny cage.
Beau quickly came to the rescue with the .22, but not before the snake had struck two baby bunnies and they died an awful death.  Poor little things.  Why would even a snake want to harm something so sweet and cuddly?

Angel-Leah spent the rest of the evening in tears.  But the dad of this house thought the rattlesnake would make a great snack: after all, they had tasted it at the rattlesnake round up.  So he and Beau skinned the mean old baby bunny murderer (Beau is preserving the skin) and Bill took the rest inside to the stove and fried it right up.  Gross.  No I did NOT eat it - but I think Angel-Leah and I were the only ones who didn't...

Now, on to one thing I do love about living in the country...

Luke's two sisters are staying with us.  If you remember, they were the ones we were asked to adopt, we said yes, went through the whole process to be licensed with the private agency , only to then be turned down by CPS.  You can read that story HERE.  Anyway, they are still allowed to come for visits with their brother, my son Luke.  They will be with us for two weeks.  We are having fun, and so glad they are here.

I also have three grandchildren staying with me for a few days.  To say I have a houseful is an understatement.  But hey, we live in the country and there is a LOT to do.  Big sister loves to build, and she has quite a construction crew.  They have been working on the tree house out in the chicken coop for days.  Big sister is the president, which means she calls all the shots.  Grandson Mikey is the vice president.  Angel-Leah tells me she is the presidents servant, and Tommy is the mascot.  Until today, Luke and Beetle were not in big sisters crew, they were going to make their own clubhouse.  But after two days of watching how much better her work was going, they decided to join her.  Little sister, however, is a different story.  The work is hard.  The boards are heavy.  It's hot.  She didn't know the rules.  She didn't hear the other kids when they read them to her.  She stood on the boards while they tried to build.  She didn't know she was standing on the boards  She didn't know she was supposed to say sorry when she did something wrong.  She didn't know that when you DO say you are sorry, you aren't supposed to roll your eyes.  It goes on and on.  So she is regularly kicked out of the club.  Today, "I" made the rule that each day is a new start, and she can try over.  I think she lasted a total of three minutes before she was kicked out again...

This club has a password.  Before you enter, you must tell President Big Sister the password.  Here is mascot Tommy whispering it to President Big Sister:

Here's Angel-Leah working hard.  I wonder why she doesn't work so hard when it's time to clean her room?  At least it's air conditioned there!  That's grandson Beetle chilling on the bike, and little sister wishing she hadn't broken the rules:

The rules are posted on the front of the clubhouse.  There is a zero tolerance law for breaking them, it seems:

When we found the first snake, Bill spent much time cleaning the chicken pen.  He picked up all the boards, cut down brush and low hanging limbs, raked grass and threw away broken toys.  It was amazing the work he did.  It made hunting eggs back there so much nicer and so much less scary.  Unfortunately, the chicken pen is back to being a construction site, and things are messy again:

But honestly, I don't care.  I have ten kids over here, and the beauty of living in the country is that they never run out of things to do.  It's a wonderful place to raise children and have grandchildren over to play.  I am so blessed to have this messy little place. 

I forgot!!

Six years ago, we adopted our son Luke.  It was a long, hard process, with one worker who was just determined that he would never be our son.  What God did for us during that time was so amazing, I could hardly believe it.  It was a faith strengthening thing, and I thank Him once again - and always and forever!

Every year since that wonderful day, on April 13th we have celebrated Luke's adoption by going to the zoo.

Every year except this year, that is...

I forgot.  The day past, and I forgot what a monumental day it was.  I didn't remember until today that I had forgotten.
Then, when I thought back, I realized I had not only forgotten Luke's last adoption anniversary, but I had forgotten Angel-Leah's and Tommy's, too...

Well, at least I'm consistent...

At first, I felt really, really bad that I had forgotten their adoption anniversaries.  But as I thought about it, I realized that it might actually be a good thing.  Is there a great need to focus on the fact they came into our home by adoption?  Aren't we just a family?

Birthdays, I don't forget.  There's no way they are going to let me forget birthdays.  Christmas, either.

I remember one child who is mine by birth, complaining that the little kids got TWO special days - their adoption days, and their birthdays.  That wasn't fair, he declared.  Well, I could say a lot about that...about being grateful he had not suffered the losses my adopted children suffered.  But he would probably not have understood that.  All he knew was how nice it was to be the "special" one for a day.

So, I will have to let go of the fact I forgot.  I probably won't ALWAYS forget.  But I think it's okay that I did this time...

But still, I think I'll post their slideshows for anyone who hasn't seen them, or anyone who HAS seen them, but hasn't gotten tired of them yet. 

And I will watch them again and remember what God has done, especially in Luke's adoption, a time when I probably cried as many tears as I have over other times in my life, tears of sorrow, fear, and finally, joy!

And I still cry every time I watch these...

Be sure your speakers are on!!

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Unexpected Weekend Visit

I had my weekend all planned out.  I had the coupons clipped, I was going to shop.  I even thought about asking Bill for a couple of hours to go to the fabric store with Mary Susannah alone.  I was kind of looking forward to it.  Doesn't every lady love to shop?

But about three in the afternoon on Friday, I got a phone call.  The new foster mom of Luke's sisters was sick enough that she was going into the hospital.  The family needed a sitter for the weekend, and right away, the adoption worker thought of me.  Could I keep them on such short notice?

I will pick them up and keep them forever, I thought, but I answered out loud, of course!!

Two hours later, I pulled up in front of La Gran Plaza in Fort Worth, and little sister jumped out of foster dads car into my arms.  They were back, even if it was just for a day or two.

Once we had transferred their things and foster dad left, big sister talked me into actually going into this Spanish mall.   Birthmom spent most of her time with Spanish people, although she herself was not Spanish, and big sister had visited this mall many times with her and little sisters biodad.  So in we went, and I felt like I had been transported into another world.  I got a glimpse of what it must be like to be Mexican in a white world.  I didn't understand the music and everything there was geared to another culture.  Since big sisters favorite ice cream store was closed, I managed to get us out of there pretty quick.

Having them back that night was like a dream come true and although the kids mostly concentrated on each other instead of me, I enjoyed just hearing them in the house again.

The next day we were up early, and big sister wanted to make smoothies for everyone.  I said sure, that was a good idea, and headed off to stick a load of clothes in the wash.  When I came back, I found that my idea of a smoothie, and big sisters idea of a smoothie were quite opposite: my idea? Fruit and juice blended together.  Big sisters idea? fill the blender with chocolate ice cream and a pina coloda Popsicle, add coke for liquid, and throw in an orange for good health. 
Everyone liked it but Tommy, who pronounced it "gross".  I think it had something to do with the orange pulp floating on top.

We had one bad spell with little sister, as she clung to my waist and begged me to let her "be adopted to me."  She cried and cried while I tried to explain that I tried so hard, but they wouldn't let me because they thought it would be too hard for big sister to adjust to our lifestyle.  She promised me that they would like it.  I told her to pray, and I would too, and we would see what happened.  But that I would always be there anyway, even if I couldn't be her mommy.  I would come get her every chance I got!

Mary Susannah really wanted to go somewhere, but it's expensive to take seven children and myself just about anywhere.   A wreck on the highway at the end of our land, complete with a careflight helicopter, captured their attention for a while  Once all the emergency vehicles had cleared away, Mary Susannah and big sister headed for the creek, where the wrecked car had landed, to see the scene.  Once they got back, we decided to go to the lakehouse and have a hot dog roast.

Big sister and Angel-Leah quickly climbed trees:

I had packed my crochet bag.   After the hectic morning, I had visions of myself crocheting while the kids played.

That lasted for less than five minutes before the four little ones were begging me to go down to the lake.  Oh, well, I thought...I can crochet at home...
We headed off.

Luke and his little sister are two of a kind.

Beau didn't stay long, and Mary Susannah stayed behind to paint some furniture:

It was pretty fun watching their excitement, and I even found what I proclaimed to the kids was my throne, which I dusted off and sat on a ledge so I  wouldn't have to sit in the mud:

It did get cold by that lake though, and soon I told the kids that Dad had a fire going.  That was all it took to get them running back up the hill.
Coming back, I found Beau on the roof.  This boy, who would never notice that the kitchen floor needed sweeping, was on top of the house, sweeping the roof...

Bill got a campfire going:

The sun set, and before long we were roasting hot dogs and eating S'mores.

 Wow, Beau looks like Gage in this picture.  Maybe because it's so blurry?

I had the grand idea that I would take along pajamas and towels and get the four little ones their church baths while we were there, then we could just put them in bed when we got home.  But just as I walked towards the house, Bill informed me he forgot to turn on the hot water heater...So I sat back in my chair while he did that, and enjoyed the fire a while longer.  What is it about a campfire that makes you never want to leave?

After a bit, I tried the baths, but they were pretty cold, and I finally gave up by the third bath trying to get the water warm enough.

No trip to the lakehouse would be complete without a picture of the house mascot:

This silly frog is an icon there, and always gets attention.  Who knows why?

The next day was church.  Little sister was pretty good, although we did have to go out once.  Our services are very long, and during the last 15 minutes, who should come walking into the auditorium but Max!  I was surprised, and wondered.  Tommy ran from the ladies side to the men's side to sit with him - Luke was already there with Beau.  Then in a minute, I saw that Spencer was also there on the back row.  My heart began to pound - I didn't know why both boys would be there during the final minutes of the service, and all I could come up with was that something terrible had happened, and they had both shown up to tell me...My mother?  No, they would not have sat down, they would have gotten me out of the service.  My mind went all kinds of places, but in the end, it turned out that Max was coming to church to be with us when his car broke down on the highway, and Spencer was the only family member he could get ahold of.  So Spencer rescued him, and they both came to church and stayed for fellowship meal.  It was so nice for us all to be there together, and they helped a lot with the little ones.  Afterwards, Max had a funeral to go to, Spencer dropped him off, then came back to our house.  Later, Max came back with things to make pizza.  I had to drop the girls off before it was ready.  We parted this time without tears, just promises to get together as soon as we could.

I miss them already....

Coming out of a fog

Always strive to do what is good for each other and for everyone else.
 Rejoice always,  pray continually,  give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.    1 Thessalonians 5:15-18


This has been a hard few months, but we are at the end of it, and at the end of the year.  It's time for a new start, and we are back where we were before this whole effort began:  A dad, a mom, and their ten children.  Not twelve.  Ten.

We did the best we could.  CPS called us and asked us to adopt Luke's sisters, and we said yes.  They pointed us to an adoption agency, and we went.  The agency started us on classes, and we did them.  They had many other requirements and we met every. single. one.  We spent a few hundred dollars in the process, getting fingerprinted, take CPR classes, getting TB tests, and buying things for our house that we needed to be relicensed to adopt.
We met and spent time with the girls, had them over for days at a time, and enjoyed it all and bonded so completely.  It was hard, because their lifestyle and behavior is different from ours, and little sister has some issues.  But we were willing, and we did it happily.

And in the end, we were turned down.  Because we weren't fit?  No.  We were turned down because we are "too religious".  We live in a house without a TV.  We homeschool.  We wear dresses and headcoverings.  So they decided the 15 year old sister would not adapt, and we might end up sending her back.   So they made the decision to keep her from us, even though she wanted to be here with us and the brother she had not had a chance to know until now, and send her to strangers.  Somehow, in their minds, that was the better choice...

Taking them back after they had spent Christmas and most of the next week with us was really hard.  I broke down and cried in front of them when I told them I had gotten the call to meet the caseworker.  I tried not too, but I couldn't help it.  And I'm not sure it was wrong that they knew how much I loved them, and that it was hard to bear to see them leave.  They cried too, hard.  My children cried.  And as we cried, we packed, loaded the car, met the caseworker, and we parted.

After they left, while we were in town anyway, we went to buy groceries.  It was the BIG shopping trip.  In the middle, Angel-Leah and I went in search of the restroom.  As I held her hand and we talked, I looked down at her big blue eyes looking up at me, and I thought, "They can't take her.  She's mine.  I got her.  She belongs to me."  And the thought comforted me.

That night, Mary Susannah commented that the rings under my eyes had rings under them.  Yeah, I was pretty devastated by all that had happened.  I looked in the mirror at a face, already getting old, that looked like it had aged a few more years.  This isn't going to do, I thought...

The next day, we went to pick up Mary Susannah's contacts and make a quick trip to Walmart.  Mary Susannah was grumpy, which is VERY unusual for her.  I knew she was stressed, too, so I tried to give her some space.  I even offered Starbucks, but she just grunted instead of jumping at the idea like she usually does.  Finally she told me, "I am feeling very discontent, and I don't want to hear a lecture."  :o)
Yeah, I knew how she felt.

Coming home, I saw that Beau was back, although he was supposed to be working out of town for another day.  I went into his room and found him in bed with the flu, something that had been bringing us down one by one for the past week.  One of the first things he asked was "Are they gone?"  "Yes, CPS took them back."  I replied.  He made a sad face.

In the wee hours of that night, Tommy came down with flu.  He woke me up once because he couldn't breath.  I helped him blow his nose and he went back to sleep.  Then later, I heard him clumping down the stairs, crying.  "Luke's gone and I'm scared!"  he cried.  I knew Luke wasn't gone, but I was too tired to deal with the whole thing, so I told him to crawl in with me.  When he did, I felt a burning hot little body, and knew that now the last of us had the flu.
He curled into my body and I held his hand.  A restless sleeper, he kept me awake for the few hours that were left of the night.  And as I lay there in the dark, I was able to sort things out.

I did all I could for the girls.  Everything CPS and the agency asked me to do.  But most important, I had prayed, and I had fasted.  If I had gotten the girls, I would have said God had given them to us.  So is it not right to believe that since we did not get them, God had said no?  And if God had said no, should I accept that less than I would have accepted a yes?

Today, I keep thinking about this scripture above in 1 Thessalonians.  I did as much good as I could for the girls.  When I knew they weren't going to get to stay, I did all I could to help them accept it, too. When the older girl told me she was going to fight this, I reminded her that it was not her new foster mom's fault, and that she should be really nice to her.  That if she wanted to let people know what she thought, it should be caseworkers, CASA, and her attorney.  I said she might ask to speak to the judge, because I believe she has a right to do that.  But the new lady giving her a home was not to blame, so please try to get along.
I was polite to the few caseworkers I was in contact with.  I don't believe it's God's will that I should fight and berate them.  If God wants to overturn this, he can and will.  In the meantime, I need to act in a manner worthy of a child of God.

I will rejoice.  I still have ten children.  They are healthy, happy, and every one of them are doing well.  I have plenty of everything.  I even got that big laundry room I've been wanting for years, and an extra bathroom and bedroom (which I don't need now) as a direct result of trying to adopt the girls.

I will pray without ceasing.  But lately, all my prayers have been centered on Luke's sisters.  It's time now to remember other people in my prayers.  I have a son half way across the world.  I have a daughter who wants a baby really bad.  All of my ten children have things I could pray about.  I will continue to pray for Luke's sisters every time I think about them, which right now is still most of the time.  But it's time to focus on what I DO still have here with me, and that's a lot.

And I will give thanks.  I have so much to be thankful for.  I will not sink into despair and squander the blessings I have here before me.  If God chooses to bring the girls back, we will welcome them with all we have in us.  But I know he loves them more than I do, and that his hand is still on them.   I'm not the only choice in the world.  My prayer now is that God has given them a better place than here would have been.

Tomorrow is a whole new year.  God is with us.  It's going to be alright, even if it was not what we wanted, as long as we are faithful.

When my heart's overwhelmed...

Here my cry, O God, attend unto my prayer.
From the end of the earth to Thee I cry;
When my heart's o'erwhelmed lead me to the rock that's higher,
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I

(Psalm 61:1-4)

Sometimes, life just isn't fair...  Sometimes, it overwhelms...

Last July, I got a phone call from CPS.  My son Luke's three siblings were in foster care, and the parental rights had just been terminated.  Would I be interesting in adopting them, I was asked?
Quite the question right out of the blue, but once I got my breath back, I said, without hesitation (and after asking my husband): "YES!!"

So my name was passed to the children's social worker, but before he could call me, there was a problem with the adolescent boy in the group.  A problem that made it impossible for us to take him.  I wanted too, but I had to keep the children already in my home safe.
They tried hard to change my mind.  They told me of door locks and door alarms, and not letting him out of my sight.  But I am a scatterbrained, easily distracted person, and I knew I was not able to do this.  When they accepted that my no was no, they told me simply that it was all the children or none of them.  They would look elsewhere.

I didn't hear from anyone for three weeks, then I got another call: the judge said separate the children.  Was I still interested in the girls?
My answer, again?  "YES!!"

The fact was, the older sister, who was about to turn 15 years old, had been in my oldest daughters foster home back several years ago.  I had tried to adopt her and the brother back then, but in the end, they were returned to their mother and her boyfriend.  But mom gave up her baby, who I didn't even know had been conceived when we started the process, and he is now my son, Luke.  The littlest sister, who is five, had not been born when we adopted Luke, who is now seven.  I still wanted this older girl, even though I knew she had been through terrible things since the last time I saw her, and now she was nearly grown.   And I was happy to take the younger one, too

So we were directed to a Christian adoption agency.  Soon, we were taking classes, getting TB tests and visiting an office to get FBI fingerprints done, having our backgrounds checked, taking CPR classes, and all sorts of things, at our own expense of course, but we didn't mind.

After a few weeks of this, we were finally given permission to visit the girls, and we began to have them over almost every weekend.  They were thrilled to see their brother, although the older girl had just about forgotten she had a little brother, and the little one had never been told about him.  The older girl held Luke and sobbed when they were reunited.

I won't say it was easy all the time to have them over.  They were certainly different from my own children.  But we were having fun, and bonding in the meantime.  Both girls freely expressed that they really, really wanted to live with us.  The older one remembered coming to our house and milking cows and playing with our kittens.  She had fun getting to know us again.  I was thrilled with the whole thing.

So we went through the whole process, even buying a building and adding it to our house because we needed a bit more room.  We were assured we were the only family they were looking at...

We turned in our homestudy, and suddenly it all came to a screeching halt as the girls were in the process of being transferred from the foster unit to the adoption unit.

I got a call telling me that they had moved too quickly.  That someone had made a mistake.  That we should never have been called so early...

That CPS wanted to reinvestigate putting the girls back with their brother.  That it was all on hold, even though it had been hinted to us that they might be moving in over Christmas break.

I was crushed with the phone call.  So was foster mom.  What I was told and what she was told were different things and not adding up...

As I took the girls back to their foster home last Sunday, I talked to the older girl a bit, telling her I wasn't sure it was going to work out after all, because CPS wanted to think about putting her back with her brother.  "That will take about five years," she replied.  Then she turned her whole body towards me and said, "You are the only one who wants me."

Friday, I got a call.  We had been turned down as a placement for the older girl by CPS.  Even though they were the ones who called and asked us to take them in the first place.  The adoption agency had asked CPS if they could reassess our homestudy to see if it could work out.
"Don't bother."  CPS said.
I declined coming into the office for a meeting, because I was told it wouldn't do any good.

Since that time, I have learned in a round about way what seems to be the reason we were turned down:

We are too "strictly religious".   CPS doesn't believe the older girl can acclimate to a household like ours: headcoverings, dresses only, no TV, etc...
Even though she wanted to be here, knowing us well.
Even though she seemed at ease with it all, and in fact, was already imitating us.
Even though I expected that once she had been here a while, she might rebel against it.  I had even talked with the person doing our classes, and gone over how I would handle that.
CPS was afraid rebellion against our "religious lifestyle" would cause us to disrupt the adoption.

This decision was made by people who did not know us, and had never seen us with the girls.

But the decision is made, they tell me.  We will not be allowed to adopt them.  They will look elsewhere, to strangers.  Guess the older girl won't rebel then, right?

However, they encourage us to continue visiting them so they can know their brother.  Once a month, or less, they say.

All weekend, I've been trying to make sense of it all.  I hadn't cried this time.  For the past two weeks, I have figured they were going to turn us down.  I've even talked to God in my prayers about it.  I was pretty calm, I thought.

Then this morning in church, we sang Psalm 61, up at the beginning of this blog.  As we sang this song, tears stung my eyes, and my throat closed up until I could bearly sing.
"We shall abide there before our God forever, mercy and truth preserve our souls in Him.  We shall sing praise unto His name forever, Daily perform our vows and laud His fame.  Hear my cry, O God, attend unto my prayer.  From the end of the earth to Thee I cry; When my heart's o'erwhelmed lead me to the rock that's higher, Lead me to the rock that is higher than I."

Suddenly, I knew, this might not be over.  I am still allowed to see this girl I have tried to adopt twice.  If I cannot have her in my home, where I could finish raising her and try to love and heal her, then I will do that with the visits we will be allowed to have.  Who knows if mentoring her in this way might not work better than actually parenting her?  I am disappointed, but I trust my God.  He knows what he's doing.  I've prayed enough, even fasted over this, so I have to trust that he is in this disappointing answer.

"I will abide in thy dwelling place forever, I will thee trust and e're thy covert claim.  For thou, O God, hast heard me, thou hast given the heritage of those that fear thy name..."

Pray for us...

I found it

Four years ago next month, Tommy came to live with us.  He was a sick, sad, almost six month old baby boy.
I was a sad, grieving older mom, grieving for my little foster daughter who had left to go live with her biological family only weeks before, after living with me for twenty months.

A few months later, while still trying to make sense of life, I went to a Steven Curtis Chapman concert with my son Max and my daughters, Mary Susannah and Angel-Leah.  Steven Curtis Chapman had just lost his little daughter to a tragic accident.  I cried throughout most of the concert, missing my MiMi as he talked about missing his little daughter.

But then, he sang "When Love Takes You In."    This concert was for a pregnancy crisis center, and they had a video for this song.  I describe the impact and insight this video gave me in this blog post .  It comforted my hurting heart, and finally made me understand what I could not understand before.

I went home from this concert, and searched and searched for the youtube of this song that had the tow headed baby boy in it.  I could not find it anywhere.  Yet, that made the message even more strong to me.  God was talking to me personally.  I understood, and I accepted what He was teaching me with the song and the video.

Then, tonight, a friend sent me a link on my facebook page of Steven Curtis Chapman singing a song.  After I watched it, I clicked the video to call up more of his songs, and I saw that the song "When Love Takes You In" was there, and not only there, but it was a concert recording where they showed the video.  I watched it, and here it was - the video I saw that night with the blond, fat baby crawling in it.  It was MY video, the one God used.  I am very excited to have found that particular one.  It may not mean a lot to anyone else, but it meant the world to me that night.

For all moms who have adopted, who are fostering, who have had to give back a beloved foster child, here's the link, and I pray it does for you what it did for me!

 When love takes you in

I got the bedroom!!

 "Every good and perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights..."  James 1:17

If you've followed my blog much or are my friend on facebook, you know I've been wanting another bedroom since we began pursuing the adoption of Luke's siblings.  I asked for prayer, I've prayed myself.  A LOT.  Sometimes for most of the night.  As time went on, I accepted that most likely, God's answer was no.  I mean, the bedroom wasn't forth coming, after all.  And I had a guest house with three bedrooms and a bath in it - in fact, we got that guest house seven years ago, when we thought we might be adopting the very same girl we are in the process of adopting right now.  My eighteen year old son, Beau, lives in it.  The little boys could have a bedroom out there, and been plenty safe enough. 
The problem is that Beau likes to go out of town, and tells me on a regular basis that he will be moving far away very soon.  We'll see.  But that means that the little guys wouldn't be able to stay out there for long, or even every night.

I admit I fretted about it, even while I accepted it.  But about two weeks ago, Luke crawled in my bed in the early morning hours and told me about a scary dream he had had.  It really set me off.  I kept thinking of him having a scary dream, and having to go outside and across the driveway in the night to get to me. 

I called a home improvement man, and got a quote for putting in a floor over the living room.  I didn't think it would be much money.  After all, the ceiling and walls were already there.  We just needed a floor.
His estimate?  $21,000...
On our debt free house....

That night, I pleaded with God for a bedroom.  I promised to accept a no if that was the answer, but PLEASE, can I have a bedroom?  Should I take the man up on his estimate and go into debt?  HELP ME, Lord, to make this decision.  Couldn't someone else make it for me?

The next day, my son Max came over, and I told him about my sleepless night.  He stood up.  "Mom," he said, "I'm going to go over to Lelands and see if we can't just tack a barn on the back of the house."

And he did.  And called me with the answer.  Bradly, who works at Leland's Industries, gave him three options.  The first two were for small barns.  But the third...

The third was a repo.  It was BIG, and the conversion had already started.  It not only had a bedroom, but a bathroom and a HUGE room sectioned off.  The bathroom was roughed in, with a sink, toilet and tub.  All the plumbing was there, all the electricity in, and it was already sheet rocked.  And the price for a bedroom, bath and big room?

$5,000!!!!

It was more than I ever imagined I would get.  "I'll take it!!"  I shouted for all the world to hear.  Bill cautioned, "Make sure the adoption goes through, first."  "No, I want it anyway!"  I replied.  
Bill said we could move my washer and dryer into the big room, and I could have the family closet I've been begging for.  What is now my laundry room will become a huge pantry.

I am so PLEASED!!!

So we've been working.  We had to cut off half our porch.  Bill and Max worked for two days on this. Bill had to use the truck to finally get my clothes line down:

And ever the practical guy, he decided to dump all the trash he found under the porch into the hole it left.  The little girl in the pink boots is one of the two reasons for all this.  Maybe in a couple of weeks, I can show her to you from the front!

Today was the big day.  Our new "house addition" was delivered!

It was amazing watching them haul that thing into our yard and set it up.  And one of the men working on it was someone I went to church with more than ten years ago, back when he was a small boy.  When he told me who he was, I was so surprised!!  Here he was, a married man now.  How fun to see him!!

The kids and I sat outside and watched for hours.  It was just fascinating.  We wanted the building to be pushed right up against the back porch and even with it, and that made it quite hard for these poor guys.  They had to get the big boss out there to approve it all, but they came through, and I got just what I wanted:

It's high enough that I told Angel-Leah I was just going to make her bedroom underneath it, which brought screams of protest from her.  Then, when Max called, I told him I was going to wrap chicken wire around the underneath and make a new chicken coop, which brought screams of protest from him.
Come on, can't you tell when I'm kidding? 
Okay, so I AM known for doing things just like that, but still...

Here's the inside.  The bathroom is on the left, Luke and Tommy's soon to be new bedroom on the right.

And here's three of the loves of my life:

Sigh...As Tommy would say, "I so happy!"