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.

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

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.

Associated Content

I write for Associated Content online, and they recently made me a featured parenting writer!  Now they send me assignments a few times a  month, and I can write about those topics, and get paid a little bit more than I did before.  The problem is that these articles are exclusives, which means I can't put them on my blog or anywhere else, because AC retains the rights to them.
So I got a "widget" and put it at the bottom of my blog page.  If you are interested (and I hope you are...) check the widget when you read my blog, and it will show any new articles I have written.

Thanks so much for reading my blog AND my AC articles!  Leave a comment if you like, too!

Foster parent/biological parent relationships

Being a foster parent for the state brings about many interesting challenges. The most obvious is dealing with the issues the foster child may come with. The child who comes into foster care may have been abused or neglected and can have many problems related to that. Or they may have been a well loved child whose biological parents abused themselves and because of that put the child in danger. A child who comes from a situation like this can also have many problems dealing with the loss of their family. As a foster parent, you will need a lot of training, wisdom, patience, and even the willingness to work with these situations.

Another challenge the foster parent faces, however, is working with the biological family of the child they are taking care of. One of the jobs of a foster parent is to help mentor the biological family, if that is possible, and if the family will accept it. This can sometimes be a lot harder than taking care of the child itself.

A foster parent needs to be quick not to judge. It is easy to just assume that a parent who has lost custody of their child is not a good person and deserves what they get. But what should be considered is that many times, these biological parents have been abused themselves, and hardly know how to live any other way. Some of them have had terrible things happen in their lives that they have not yet overcome. I know of one parent whose own mother tried to kill her when she was just a small child. These families love their children, but just have no clue how to be a parent. It’s always good to start out in your journey with this family with compassion, rather than looking down on them. As time goes on, you may change your view, but in the beginning, try to believe that the family can be redeemed and reunited, which is the goal of CPS (Child Protective Services).

Sometimes the biological family wants to work with CPS and the foster parents. They only want their child back, and will do whatever it takes to reach that goal. These families are the easy ones. They are usually easy to get along with. You can feel good about what is being done in their lives, and although you will love the foster child and miss them when they are gone, you can know that you have helped a family become whole, and take comfort in that.

Other times, the family will be very angry at CPS, although they are trying to work their plan, but they will appreciate the foster parents who are taking care of the child. They understand the foster parent had nothing to do with their child being removed; they are just the people taking care of the child during this hard time. These families are a little more of a challenge to work with, although the challenge is more with CPS than the foster family. The family will sometimes try and align themselves with the foster parents, and be allies with them against CPS. You must be careful not to let the family believe this is the case. Help the family understand that you will not lie for them, or hide anything from CPS. Help them understand that you all need to be working together to get things made right so that the child can return home to a safe environment. Let them know you will be their best advocate if they are doing what they are supposed to be doing. And help them learn how to love and care for their child.

Another biological family may be mad at everyone. They see the foster parents as the enemy, as well as CPS. These families are the hardest to work with, especially if they are not above lying and making false accusations. In their minds, although they themselves may not realize this is what they are doing, if they can make the foster parents look bad enough, it will elevate them in the eyes of CPS, the judge, and everyone else. There is almost no way to make them understand that this is not the case, it only makes matters worse for them. The more they fight, accuse, and show that they face each situation with great anger, the more unstable they look in the eyes of the very people who can help them have their child returned to them. This is where the foster parent faces their biggest challenge, and will need the most wisdom. It will never be a good situation if the foster parent cannot deal with the angry parent in a mature, calm way, no matter what they throw at them, and they can throw some rough stuff.
And most of all, the foster parent who has been verbally abused, accused, and screamed at by the parents of the child they are caring for must not go home and let the hurt feelings caused by the biological parent rub off on the child. They must have the maturity to separate the parent and child, and deal with both with the care they individually need. They must continue to help the child love the biological parent. They must go to each visit with a smile on their face, and support the parent and child relationship.
Sometimes this can be very hard, and the foster parent will begin to feel the foster child would be so much better off if they were allowed to keep the child and adopt them. And in many cases this is very true, and it happens often that the child will end up being adopted by their foster family. But for the duration of the time the biological parent has to work a plan to have their child returned to them, the foster parent must continue to help them work towards that goal. It can sometimes feel like an impossible task, but it is the role you take on when you become a foster parent.

There are some things the foster parent can do to help the biological parents learn to help and care for their child. The main thing is that the foster parent should try to be the best example of good parenting they possibility can. The biological parents need to see just how healthy and nice looking their child can be. When it’s time for a visit, always have the child looking their best. Have their hair washed and attractively fixed. Make sure their clothes are clean, nice, and well fitting. Check their fingernails and ears as you get them ready to go. Really, this is the way they should be most of the time. There is no excuse for letting a foster child have less care than you would give your own biological child. They are just as worthy of all the love and attention you can give them.
If the child is a baby, have the diaper bag well packed. This in itself is a good lesson for the biological parent who is young or just not quite sure how to parent. Try and have the baby rested and ready to see their parents. Give them some hints on how to comfort the child, and the child’s likes and dislikes.
If the child is older and verbal, talk to them on the way to the visit, and remind them of things they have done during the week that they can tell their parents about. Let them bring a favorite toy to show, or maybe have them draw a picture to give their parents.
When you arrive at the visit, greet the biological parents with a smile, and give them a brief rundown of the child’s week. Have pictures of the child for them to keep. Be as nice and helpful as you can be, or as they will let you be.
Much of the time, the biological family will bring fast food, soft drinks and candy to the visits. There can be much complaining among foster parents about how the child is loaded up and wired up by the time visits are over. But even if you are a total health fanatic, remember that this is their child, and that it is usually only once a week. Let them do this, and don’t be upset. If they ask your opinion, tell them you prefer healthier snacks. If they don’t ask you, and the child is wired, plan a trip to the park afterwards, so the child can run and play off the sugar rush. Unless the child has an allergy, this is just not worth making an issue over. This small amount of time is all the biological parent has with their child during the week, and they want it to be almost birthday party fun each time. That is understandable, and especially understandable if the parent is young and inexperienced.

Finally, the time comes when a decision is made whether to return the child to the parents, or terminate their rights and release the child for adoption. If the decision is made to return the child, the foster parent must be ready to accept that, whether they think it’s the right decision or not. This is by far the hardest part of fostering, the time of saying goodbye to the child. It can almost feel akin to a death as you watch them drive away from you, after your have spent a year or more loving, nurturing, teaching, feeding and bonding with this child. It can be just as hard on the child if they have bonded as strongly with the foster parent, and especially if they have no memories of living with the biological family. There is no way to get past or lessen the grief of letting go. The only comfort is in knowing that you have done your absolute best, and have given this child a safe haven during a terrible time in their life. This is another area where, if you have been able to establish a good relationship with the biological parents, it may reward you. Sometimes the biological family will be willing to let you continue to see your former foster child. They may at least be willing to send you pictures and updates once in a while. This can be a great comfort to the foster parent, especially if the outcome is good, and you can feel you have done a great work in reuniting the family.
Sometimes it doesn’t seem like a good outcome, and all you can do is pray for the child every time it comes to your mind. This in itself is a great ministry, and will do more for the child and their family than you will realize this side of eternity.

If the decision is made to release the child for adoption, then the foster parents have the option of adopting the child. If you decide to adopt, you can do this without any guilt, because you know you have done all you can to reunite the family. You know this child truly needs a forever home, and that the two of you were meant to be together.
You may find it in your heart to allow the biological family to continue to see their child, or at least write letters and send them pictures. This can be very healing for the child who misses their biological family, and can help the child grow up mentally healthy.
If the family is so abusive that you don’t feel like it’s in the child’s best interest, it would still be good to give the child the truth about what has happened in their lives. Don’t make things better than they are, or worse than they are. Just give them the truth about their biological family in age appropriate doses, and try to put a positive spin where ever you can without changing the truth.

Working with biological families can be a rewarding, interesting thing to do, with a little planning and a lot of mercy. If the foster parent can remember to have patience, wisdom, and the maturity to understand what the biological family is going through, and maybe has gone through in their own past, there is the chance to make a life changing difference in this family.

The Day I Had to Give My Foster Daughter Back

January 2, 2008, we handed our 26 month old foster baby, MiMi (my nickname for her, since that's how my son pronounced her name), who had lived with us for 20 months, back to CPS so they could transfer her to a relative placement in another state. I met the worker at 4:45 in the morning at a restaurant near the highway here in our small town. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done...
The night before I could hardly sleep. The grief was so physical, it hurt between my shoulder blades to breath. I barely slept the whole night, and finally crawled out of bed around 3:30 to get us ready. She was so sleepy; she hardly knew what was going on. I cried as I placed her in the workers car. The worker was very nice, patting me and assuring me everything would be alright.
We had decided to take a trip to Red River, New Mexico, and felt like leaving the same day MiMi left would be good for me. So I came back from dropping my little foster baby off, and tried to sleep a little more, but since that was impossible, I finally got up and began to get ready to go. At around 7, I went to wake up my son, Luke, and Angel-Leah, the four year old whose adoption was just finalized the month before. I had worried a little over how all this was going to affect Luke (who is also adopted) and Angel-Leah. I had warned them the night before that MiMi would not be here when they woke up the next day. They said their goodbyes with the rest of the family the night before. But when Angel-Leah woke up, her eyes wandered to MiMi's bed, and she sat up, stricken looking and said, "Is MiMi gone?" I said yes, and she burst into tears, crying "I didn't get to tell her goodbye! I wanted to say bye to her!" My tears began to flow hard, too, as I tried to reassure her that she HAD said goodbye. We sat in the bedroom and cried together.
We finally got off on our trip around 9 that morning. I was very grateful to know I would not have to spend the next few days at home as we tried to get used to life without her. Too many memories there. That did not help my grief, though, and I spent most of that day either in tears, or trying hard to fight them off so that my children could enjoy going on the trip. The Lord is so faithful in little ways. At one point in the morning, sitting in the back of our big van with my 11 year old daughter, Mary Susannah, I opened the newspaper to Dear Abby. And there, the first letter was from a former foster child, telling how much she had been loved as she grew up, and as an adult, she wanted to give back to the world all that she had been given. I felt like the Lord had planted that letter that day, and I was so grateful, and it DID help!
The next few days were a time of constant communication with God for me in a way I haven't had for a while. With the older children and my husband gone most of the day skiing, and not being able to sleep at night, I spent most , if not every minute, of my waking hours praying. Praying for comfort for MiMi and I, and praying that the Lord would help me make sense of all this, and give me insight.
That night we stopped at a Best Western motel, and my son Spencer was able to get wireless service on his laptop. I checked my email, and there was an email from the worker who had taken MiMi to Florida, assuring me she had done fine on the trip, that she had asked for me several times, but did not cry, that she enjoyed the plane ride, and that the worker felt very good about the great aunt's house where MiMi was going to live. She thanked me for what a good job I had done caring for MiMi for 20 months. That helped, too, to know that MiMi had not been scared all day. But sleep was hard to come by again that night, and once, when I did fall asleep, I woke up thinking I heard her calling mommy!! After that, I don't think I slept at all.
The next morning, we arrived at Red River. My husband Bill and children Spencer, Beau, and Mary Susannah headed for the slopes, while I stayed with Luke and Angel-Leah. We unpacked our things and went shopping for snow shoes, and later headed for the slopes to watch the older ones ski. A big boy had built a tunnel in the snow near the bunny hill where Mary Susannah was skiing, and the little ones had a wonderful time playing in it. A very nice lady sat down by me, and began to talk to me about my 'cute children.' Poor lady, before long I was telling her how we had lost MiMi the day before and I teared up, although I did keep under control. She told me about some friends of hers who were foster parents and had recently adopted their foster child, and decided they could not do it anymore. Soon the little ones and I headed back to the hotel to get warm. I was so worried about MiMi, and finally gave into the urge to call her great grandmother. I'm not sure if it was a mistake, probably not, but as soon as I heard her voice the tears started. The grandmother is so very nice. She told me that they were taking good care of MiMi. She told me all the things they had bought her, and all the things they had already done. She did tell me that MiMi had woken up three times during the night crying for me, and that she had finally thrown up, but that they were able to settle her down and comfort her. That was hard to hear, but I was so grateful to her for being honest with me. When I cried about how hard it was to let MiMi go, she reminded me that their family had also lost her 20 months ago, and that it had been very hard for them, too. And I know she is right. She assure me once again that they would be sending me updates and pictures of MiMi for the rest of her growing up years, and that when they visited Texas, I could see her. I decided after hanging up that it was not good for me to keep calling her grandmother and crying like I did during the time that they needed to re-get to know her (having only seen her twice since she was 6 months old) and that unless I KNEW I could control myself, I would communicate over email from then on.
Hanging up from the phone, I decided it was time for me to get a grip on all this. So I made myself really look at all this. I made myself realize that MiMi was not really ever mine, I was just a surrogate mother, a temporary mother, while her extended family was not allowed to, could not, or would not, take care of her. I was there to take the place of 'mother' during a time when she needed one. One terrible feeling I had was that I had betrayed her. I had allowed her to know me as 'mommy' when I knew all along that I might not get to raise her. But at the same time, I knew that had I held her at arms length during a time when she needed a mommy, she would not have thrived the way she did.
But oh, how this hurt. It hurt me, and it hurt her. I began to wonder if there was any way I could ever do this again. I began to pray that night when sleep would not come again and ask God what He wanted me to do. In less than two years, I had added two children to my already large brood by adoption through the foster care system. I asked God, was that enough? I love these two children who did not come from my own womb with the same fierce love that I love the ones who did come from my womb. Would just raising these two along with the rest of my children fulfill James 1:27's teaching that pure religion was take care of orphans and widows? Do I stop now? Maybe I was like some other people try to tell me that they are: too sensitive to take foster children, that I, too, get too attached, and obviously can't give them up without great grief. Did God really want me to keep doing this? Or do I quit now? But as I prayed, I suddenly got a very clear picture in my mind of holding out my arms, and taking a child, and feeling the heaviness and warmth of them, and also the excitement that comes with a new foster care placement, and I knew I had my answer. Yes, God still wants me to foster. Whether it will continue to be through the state, or taking prison babies as I have done privately twice before, or however He wants me to do it, I said yes to Him. And I know He will help me.
A few days later we arrived home, and the next morning seeing MiMi's empty bed brought tears once again. I knew it was going to take a while to get over this. I decided to take the bed down, and rearrange the room, so I wouldn't remember her every-time I walk in. I tried to disassemble it as little as possible, so I could put it back up quickly again when and if I need too. I cried as I took down the bed. Angel-Leah sat with me, and told me she loved me and she was sorry for me. Then she and I moved some of the furniture around so there wouldn't be an empty space.
As I fed them lunch, MiMi's great grandmother called me. She said she wanted to give me an update. She said MiMi cried for three nights, but it seems to be getting better. She says she was playing now on her own. She told me some more of the things they are doing, and that they were going to the beach that day. I told her that as I was trying to get MiMi prepared to go live with them, I told her Nana was going to take her to a water park, and that she was excited about that, because she loved the one here in Grandview so much. So I suggested she use those words, and she said she would. She told me she loved me for all I had done for her great grand daughter, and that she would call me often, and send me pictures very soon.
Thanks to everyone who prayed for us. We continue to need the prayers.
UPDATE:
Six days after MiMi left, I received a call from CPS. Angel-Leah’s birth mother and father had a new baby, now five months old. A relative had been caring for him, but they had decided they would rather have him grow up with his sister, since it had become apparent that the birth parents were not going to make enough progress to have this child returned to them either. Would I take him, the family wanted to know?
So just less than one month after MiMi left us, Angel-Leah’s brother Tommy came to live with us. One year later, almost to the day, we finalized our adoption of him. He doesn’t replace MiMi in our hearts; he has his own special place. It took me a while to realize that God has a plan. MiMi didn’t need a ‘forever home’, she just needed a safe place for a while during a terrible time in her life, and we gave her that. Tommy needed a ‘forever family’, along with his sister, and our son Luke, and we are very blessed to give them that. God doesn’t make mistakes, he uses us to the brim, when we let him.

Temporary Motherhood: a foster mother's perspective

My husband, Bill and I have been foster parents to more than fifty children over our 36 year marriage, and have adopted three children from the state foster care system in the last three years, adding to our biological children for a total of ten children. Most of those fifty foster children lived with us while we were foster parents for the state of Oklahoma a little more than twenty years ago. During those years, foster parents could not adopt except under special circumstances, and adoptive parents could not foster. Foster parents were also not allowed to meet the parents of their foster children. Many times I was quickly ushered through a back door to keep it from happening.
Then, after moving back home to Texas, we fostered two newborn babies whose mothers were in prison, meeting one of them through a prison chaplain, and another one through my oldest daughter. I was able to write letters and send pictures to both of those mothers.

Life went on as my own family increased. I gave birth to my seventh child when I was 42 years old. I was content and happy.
About the time I turned fifty, however, my oldest daughter and her husband became a group foster home, and I met a family of children that sparked my interest, and soon my husband and I began the process to become licensed. The state had come to realize it was in the best interest of children to allow foster homes to adopt, so we went for a dual foster/adopt license.
It took a long time to finally become licensed again, right at ten months to be exact. And during this time, we became involved in an emotionally draining time of a social worker trying to keep us from the child we were hoping to adopt. He became our son through a miracle, I believe, but that’s another story.

When we were finally licensed, our social worker at first would not allow us to take a foster child, because we were pursuing the adoption of our son. But after a time, she believed she had found a new home for him, and one day, while I was in the car, I got a call on my cell phone. There was a newborn baby girl who had been removed because of her mother’s drug use. Was I interested in giving her a home for a while?
Of course we were. My eight year old daughter, Mary Susannah and I were excited at the thought of having a baby in the house.
The social worker had mistakenly given placement the wrong phone number, though, so they hadn’t been able to get hold of us, and by the time they got through to us, the investigator had had to take the baby to a shelter in Dallas because there wasn’t another home to put her in. She said rather than drive all the way back out there, she was going to wait until the ‘just cause’ hearing in two days, to make sure the child was not going to be returned home.
Disappointed, but still excited, Mary Susannah and I went shopping. We had so much fun buying baby girl clothes, diapers, bottles, and all the things that went along with new babies. I carefully kept the receipts, just in case the baby didn’t come to our house.
Two days later the placement office called me. The judge had ruled the baby would stay in foster care. She made arrangements with me to have the baby brought to our house. Finishing up, she asked me “Can you take two children?” I hated to say no, but I was saving our other spot for the baby we were hoping to adopt. If I took another child that would ruin any chance we had of having him finally placed with us.
In a couple of hours, a social worker arrived at our house with a newborn baby girl, who I will call Kitten.
Kitten was beautiful. Half Hispanic, half Caucasian, she was a dark haired, dark eyed beauty. Although I had asked Mary Susannah to wait until the investigator left to ask to hold her, the wait was too long for her as I signed paperwork and listened to instruction. I finally placed Kitten in her arms, and she was smitten. Once the worker left, Mary Susannah and I spent the rest of the day admiring this pretty child. We had a lot of fun dressing her up and combing her hair. Mary Susannah enjoyed feeding her, although of course I was the one who got up in the night.

After Kitten was with us a few days, visits with her mother began. I dressed her up and took her to the Child Protective Services office. I walked into a waiting room full of people, and I had no idea which ones were Kitten’s family. She was bundled up, so no one could see her face. I told the receptionist that I was there for Kitten’s visit, and she pointed out two women sitting on the front row. Kitten’s mother heard her child’s name, and she eagerly jumped up. She took in my appearance: I am a conservative Christian, and wear long modest dresses and a head covering. She exclaimed, “You are her foster mother? YOU are her foster mother?” I smiled at her and nodded, and she said, “Oh! I’m so glad! Now I’m not afraid anymore!”
The grandmother was also there, and she said she thought she had met me before. She realized that in her line of work, she had come out to my house a little over a year before. These two things combined to begin a good relationship between Kitten’s mother and grandmother and I.

Kitten was so very beautiful. One time my daughter was asked to speak at a Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA) training session. I went with her to help her explain the foster parent’s end of foster care, and took Kitten. She slept for most of it, but in a bit she woke for a few minutes. I unwrapped her to place her on my shoulders, and a huge sigh of “AWWWW…” went up all over the room. She was so tiny, so dark, and so pretty!

Time went on, and our family enjoyed taking care of Kitten. Her mother had quite an anger problem though, and I was often caught between listening to CPS’s view of things and the mother’s view. I listened to both and reserved judgment. I knew my job was to care for the baby, mentor the mother in any way I could, and work with CPS towards getting this family reunited.
Because the mother and grandmother were working very hard, I didn’t have a lot of imaginings that I would end up raising this baby. I knew that the grandmother was the back up plan in case the mother couldn’t complete the things CPS had laid out for her in order to get her baby back. Only once did I entertain the thought that I might keep her:

When Kitten was about five months old, the mother told me she had had a positive hepatitis C test. She asked me to have Kitten tested, too, to see if she had passed this scary disease on to her. So at our next doctor visit, I told the physician’s assistant we needed to have this done. She sent me to the lab to have blood work drawn.
I think out of the seven months I had Kitten, this was the only time I was really angry with her mother. The test was horrible. Kitten had such small little arms, and they had to draw five vials of blood from her veins. I was seated in a chair and Kitten’s arm was strapped down. My job was to try and hold the rest of her still as they performed this painful procedure. Kitten screamed and screamed as this seemed to go on and on and on. I was so upset Kitten had to go through all this. The two female lab technicians were being very cold to me, and I could not understand why, until it suddenly occurred to me that they thought that “I” was her mother. They thought, as I sat there in my conservative dress and head covering, that I was a drug user and responsible for all this. I said to them, as they tried not to speak to me “I didn’t do this to her. I’m her foster mother, not her mother!!” They looked up at me, shocked, and one of them went over and took a quick look at her paperwork. The atmosphere cleared, and they were suddenly very friendly and talkative. In later months, as I took in another foster child who used this same doctor’s office, they never failed to remember me when they saw me, and stop me to talk.
A couple of weeks went by, and my father had to have heart surgery. I left Kitten with another foster mother as I spent the day in the hospital with my family. My father came though well, a great relief to us, and I went home very, very drained but pleased. I had barely arrived home before I got the call, Kittens test was positive. The nurse said that sometimes these tests can come back with a false positive because the baby still has the mother’s antibodies in their system. Kitten would have to be tested again in a year.
The other foster mother had taken Kitten to her visit with her mother that day. Knowing the visit was going on at that time, I called the CPS office and gave them the report so that her social worker could go in to them and break the news to her mother.
This was the only time I wondered if I would get to keep Kitten. I thought of a chronically sick baby, and wondered if the family would have her returned if she were sick. This thought was fleeting though. I knew I could not allow my mind to run in that direction.

Kitten’s family continued to make good progress. Her lawyers soon had gotten a lot of visitation time for Kitten, including long weekends at her grandmother’s house.

A few weeks into Kitten’s stay with us, we went to court for the termination of parental rights for the little boy we had been hoping to adopt. In a very, very surprising turn of events, the judge ruled that our family would be allowed to be his adoptive family. He was soon made our adoption placement, and when he was eighteen months old, and Kitten was seven months old, we went to court to finalize his adoption.
The night before, I took Kitten to the department store and bought her a beautiful purple dress and little headband to wear to the adoption. The next morning, our large family and many of our grandchildren arrived at the courthouse, and Luke Allan was made our official son. I don’t know that there have been many times in my life that I have felt such immense relief and happiness. At picture taking time, I decided against having Kitten in the pictures, because I wanted to be able to send the pictures to some of my internet groups. We were not allowed to post pictures of a foster child’s face, so I asked if someone would hold her for me. Two ladies, I’m not sure if they were lawyers, but they were some kind of court workers, both jumped up and nearly bumped into each other, eager to hold the beautiful baby.
When the adoption proceedings were over, the judge pointed us towards a door to exit from. She said there was a chest in there full of stuffed animals, and each child was welcome to take one. We took several pictures in that room, and Kitten was in some of them, one I especially remember of her sitting on a table with her stuffed animal. I did not realize it would be the last picture we took of her.
We came home and had a huge party to celebrate the adoption we had agonized and worked so long over. The morning had worn Kitten out, and she slept through the whole thing. When most of the guests, except for my daughter who had been Luke’s foster mother, had gone home, I got a phone call. It was Kitten’s social worker. “Something happened that upset me.” He began. I waited, wondering if I had done something wrong. I knew they had a hearing that morning, but I did not expect this news: Kitten’s attorneys had fought hard, and the judge ruled that Kitten must be returned to her mother by five o’clock that afternoon. It was now four o’clock. “I have to come get her right now.” He said, “I’m sorry you don’t have more time to say goodbye.”
I was so shocked. I handed Kitten to my heartbroken daughter to hold while I tried to pack all her things. I knew that if I missed something I could drop it off later, but I hoped to get most of it. I worked feverishly, trying not to think. My daughter rocked Kitten as I looked on, wishing I could be the one rocking her. I was not going to have time to tell her goodbye.
The worker was soon at our door. He was in a hurry. We packed the car with boxes, and then I buckled Kitten in her car seat and kissed her goodbye. My daughter and I waved until the car was out of sight.

That night I held my daughter as she cried for Kitten. I told her, “We have to look at it this way. Today we got Luke forever and always, and today Kitten’s mother got her back forever and always, too.”
My little girl was comforted with that thought, and so was I. We knew Kitten would not stay with us forever, we just didn’t know her leaving would be so abrupt.

And I wish that the forever part had worked out for Kitten, but seven months later, when she was fourteen months old, I got another call from CPS. Did I have an opening? the investigator wanted to know. “I’m going to have to go pick Kitten up again.”
My heart broke for her. Our home was full, but I told her please, we would take Kitten if they would let us. The investigator said she would see what she could do to have her placed with us. But our worker said no. Our home was full, according to state guidelines, and of the children in our home, we had three children ages three and under, and she did not feel like she could safely place another very young child in a home that was already at the state’s limit. One of my foster children had a visit that afternoon, and while I was at the CPS office, I asked to see Kitten. She was still waiting there because the over burdened foster care system had not been able to find a home to take her yet. At fourteen months, she was much bigger than the seven month old I had last seen. She didn’t remember me, but I sure remembered her. She was just as beautiful as she had always been. I would have given a lot to have been able to take her home with me right then.

Kitten didn’t stay in the system long this time. A relative in another state soon took her in. I assume that’s where she still is.

We have adopted two more children from the state since Luke’s adoption was final and Kitten went home. We also fostered another little girl who went back to family too. Our home is now as full as the state will allow until some of our other children get older. The state has closed our home for the time being. Who will take our place and care for the Kitten’s of the world? Will you?