Supporting Foster Families: Helping the Newbie

It was only a year ago that Nate and I started the process for becoming foster parents. Less than three months later we received our first placement. And much like welcoming a new baby for the first time, becoming foster parents rocked our world.

Our "normal" lives suddenly involved so many new dynamics I felt like I was in a constant state of being off balance. Court dates. Social workers. Home visits. Interactions with birth parents. ISPs. Multiple government buildings. It was overwhelming to say the least. Not to mention there was a tiny new life we were responsible for. Our family of four became a family of five in the blink of an eye. I had about 36 weeks to prepare for my first two babies. We got a 36 hour notice for The New Chick.

If not for dozens of friends and supportive family, I'm not sure we would have navigated those early weeks unscathed. Looking back, there were some specific things others did that made the adjustment much easier.

Here are some ways to offer support to new and prospective foster parents:

1) Offer to help get their home ready. Part of the liscensing process is having a home inspection. Most states require prospective foster parents to install safety latches, fire extinguishers, stair rails, cabinet locks and all manner of safety equipment. Not to mention that most new foster families are rearranging rooms and furniture to accommodate new children. Offering to help with these projects would be a huge help. Make it a group project by involving your Bible study pals or Sunday School class. Might as well make it fun!

2) Spend time with biological children. The day we welcomed our first placement, a dear family friend came over to help care for Titus and Anna. While we were busy with the new baby, this sweet lady focused solely on the big kids. What could have been a very difficult evening for them turned out to be positive because they had the undivided attention of a beloved friend. Since then, there have been numerous times that church friends and family offered to spend time with Titus and Anna. Having that connection with trusted adults has helped eased this transition for them. Nate and I think the world of those people who are an unchanging constant for our kids in the face of this unpredictable life! Offer to take the biological kids to the park or another outing so they get some time focused on just them. It will be a blessing to them and their parents!

3) Share your used baby gear, age appropriate toys, and clothing. Ya'll. I seriously had one thing the weekend we found out we were getting The New Chick. A crib. That's IT. No car seat, no baby clothes, no bottles no NOTHING. But some amazing gal pals totally saved the day by bringing every necessity and a ton of other stuff. Another friend went and bought diapers, wipes, and baby detergent. I don't know what we would have done without them! Most foster families don't have much notice and can't possibly be prepared for every age and gender scenario. Used items and school supplied are much appreciated. Or, buy a gift card to clothing stores for older foster kids so they can get new clothes. They'll be tickled and the foster family will too!

4) Get fingerprinted so you can babysit. An ongoing need for ALL foster families is babysitters. One of the most loving things you can do is find out what is needed to be "cleared" to keep foster children and do it! There are few things that refresh Nate and I more than a few hours away together. Or even (gasp!) a night. We deeply appreciate those who have been cleared to watch our kids and offer to do so! More than that, I can sleep at night knowing that if I have to go in the hospital, someone I know and trust will be keeping the kids rather than sending them to another foster family they may or may not know.

5) Be understanding. Becoming a new foster family is overwhelming and demanding. For a while, I pulled back from church commitments and away from relationships so I could focus on taking care of a newborn and helping our bio kids adjust. It took time for us to figure out our "new normal". Be understanding of the demands placed on foster families and give them space to navigate their new lifestyle. Lower your expectations for what they can manage. If they are on nursery rotations at church, offer to fill in for them. Communicate that you're available if they need you. You'll bless them just by letting them know you're behind them!

Foster care is hard. But you can make a huge difference in how hard by the offering support!

*Fellow foster families, what other ways to support would you add to this list? How have others ministered to you?


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Supporting Foster Families: 7 Ways You can Pray

The response to The Other Mother has been thoroughly encouraging.  One of the most touching aspects has been the number of people commenting on social media that they are praying for us. 

THANK YOU!

If you've ever walked a difficult road (who hasn't?) then you know what it means to hear that others have your back in this powerful way. 

I believe that interceding on behalf of others is especially tender to the heart of God. When we come before His throne, selflessly pleading for Him to act on behalf of another, I just wonder at what kind of pleasure it must bring Him. 

Maybe you know a family who fosters, but aren't sure how to pray. Here are 7 ways you can pray for foster families:

1) Pray that foster moms and dads trust God with the future of the children in their care. It's a daunting task to consider them not being under a trusted wing of protection. Pray they remember that God sees those children and that He cares. Deeply.

2) Pray that biological children can adjust to new siblings when they come, and say goodbye when they leave. These kids deal with emotions and situations that are hard for little hearts to handle. Pray they learn to look to God when dealing with change and heartache. 

3) Pray that parents have the strength they need to meet the daily challenges of fostering. Raising children is difficult. Raising children from hard places is extra difficult. Throw in multiple trips to government buildings, extra doctor's appointments, and visitations with birth parents...It can quickly become a draining lifestyle. Pray that foster parents get the rest, support, and energy they need to accomplish the tasks before them. 

4) Pray that families trust God with the potential heartbreak of foster care. There is nothing like looking at a child you love knowing they might go back. The weight of that ever-looming grief is heavy. Ask God to help moms and dads have peace, believing He will carry them through.

5) Pray that foster families make the most of the opportunity they have been given. The gospel is the most life changing thing they can give a child. Pray that families show the love of Christ and speak the love of Christ. Pray that the hearts of the children would be soft to Jesus, and that the Gospel would take root in their young lives. 

6) Pray that biological children embrace a lifestyle of protecting and providing for the vulnerable. I have often worried that by deciding to foster, my two kids would become embittered. Pray that God helps families to make fostering a family mission. Pray that it would strengthen rather than weaken the faith of the biological children. 

7) Pray that God would raise up more foster families. The need is great. Few things bless the hearts of foster families more than hearing of new foster families! Pray that God would call more Christ-following families to open their homes to displaced children. 


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The Other Mother

Since day one, many have asked about The New Chick's biological mom. And for all seven of the months he's lived in my house, I've put off writing about her. But, there is a season for everything, and a time for every purpose under heaven. 

The first time I saw her it was in the Chambers County Courthouse. I looked up from admiring the five day old baby who was snug against my chest, and saw her walking toward us. I knew her by the tears pouring unchecked down her face. She humbly asked me if she could hold him, and I began to wonder at the world I had just entered.

As I unswaddled all five precious pounds and placed him in his mothers arms, I realized this entire endeavor was going to require more of my heart than I had expected. I felt all at once tremendous pain for her, and ferocious protection over him. 

Those two emotions would only swell with the passing weeks. At times they were at war within my soul. 

Someone commented on her right after he came to us. They posed a question, that was really more of a statement, along the lines of how could anyone do what she has done. The person went on to make her out as a total sinner, and me a total saint.

I just blinked and ashamedly said nothing. But inside was a raging inferno.

There is nothing fundamentally different about she and me. The only thing that polarizes her life from mine is that I was given a gift when I was 6.  

The gift of the Holy Spirit when I got adopted by The King.

Without that gift I would have been her. I would have chased this world and let it have it's way with me. I would have made costly decisions; looking to all the wrong things to make me feel happy and all the wrong people to make me feel loved. I would have given myself to a man way too early and gotten pregnant and had a baby. 

It would have been me watching the social workers walk out of the hospital with my first born son, still sore from giving birth to him. 
It would have been me wondering where they took him.
And who was holding him. And what was going to happen to him.
It would have been me facing every parent's worst nightmare.

It would have been me.

But Jesus.

I won't lie. There's another side to my feelings about her. It's not jealousy. Or competition. It's more like looking at her and wondering if I will be her in a few months. 

I fear the pain she's already lived through.

Handing my baby over to the social workers to be cared for by strangers. Wondering where he is and if he needs me. Missing his firsts and wanting him so desperately it hurts. Fearing that he's wants Mama, but can't have her.

I hate the notion that her success will mean my greatest loss. And just as much I loathe the idea that if she fails, I somehow win. 

Because if he goes back, I'll curl up and die for a while. But if he stays, I'll grieve with the knowledge that she'll do the same. Either way, pain will be thick. 

It's true that she and I are very different. I was adopted and she wasn't. She brought him into the world and I didn't. I know him in ways she doesn't. 

And every time I say "Come to Mama" I am reminded that there is another.

But in this we are the same. 

She and I are both the other mother.

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What My Foster Son Taught Me About Hospitality

When He first came to us, the house was a mess and dinner wasn’t ready. We didn't have much time to roll out the welcome mat, and only Anna and I were here to greet him. But of all the guests I’ve had in my house, this little one has taught me the most about offering our home to others.

He’s taught me that the mess doesn’t matter. He could care less if the toys are put away and the fact that I haven’t deep cleaned the fridge in months doesn’t bother him in the least. He is at home here because we want him here, not because the house is tidy and well kept. Laughing and playing and loving happen despite the disorder around us. And when the focus is on the people in the house, rather than the looks of the house, magical things happen.

He’s taught me that fancy isn’t needed. Seasonal decor and perfectly kept furnishings are not necessary for him to be blessed by his time here. In fact, his crib is borrowed and the toys he enjoys have been well loved on before. The table where he dines has scratches and nicks, but the company he keeps while he eats loves the stew out of him. Plain things don’t hinder the show of affection. We offer what we have, mainly ourselves, and that is enough for him.

He’s taught me that letting go of the ideal is important. Ideally, he would have his own room. Ideally we would have extra space to store the wall to wall baby gear. Ideally we would have had everything in order before he came to us. But if we had allowed what was “ideal” to rule the day when we were deciding about inviting him in, we probably wouldn't have taken him. But we would have missed out on the supreme blessing of loving and being loved by him. 

He’s taught me that showing true hospitality is worth the effort. Having him here definitely requires more work. Everyone in our family has had to pitch in and give of themselves to make this thing happen. There is more to clean, more to cook, more work to do! But in that work a marvelous process is taking place; a little boy is finding his place in a family. And that family is discovering that life isn't solely about taking care of their own. 

He's taught me that when God asks us to share, He gives us everything we need to do it.  When we first learned that he would be joining us we had 36 hours to prepare, and exactly one thing ready for him; a crib. Within 6 hours, God delivered mounds of baby gear and clothes. And in the last 6 months, He's kept up a steady stream of deliveries. Through faithful friends and perfect strangers, God has provided what is needed to care for this little one. He's the best dressed and most fully equipped little darling in the area!

One little fellow has taught my family loads about inviting others into our home. We’ve learned that it’s not so about how the house looks or what's on the menu. Because of him, we now understand that offering ourselves and sharing what we have is the essence of true hospitality.

Life Changing Love

Experiencing God as King has long been my thing, but grasping His deep love for me has often proven elusive....until he recently revealed it in a most profound way. 

It was Friday and I was taking my foster son out of the car after dropping the big kids off at school. Smiling at that darling face, I hefted him onto my hip and smooched my thousandth kiss. He buried his little head in my neck and I marveled again at my love for him. 

Because despite the fact that he's not from my body, I love this baby boy.

The way he smiles from the inside out. Peach fuzz head and ears that poke out. His double chin and chunky thighs. The unbelievable softness of his skin. His little arm hooked around my neck. 

I love how he's found his feet and thinks they're hilarious.  I love that he loves my singing voice even though it's hideous. I love the way he grins with two fingers stuck in his mouth and a line of drool dripping down. I love that his favorite place to be is with me.

I love him despite the fact that he has nothing to offer me except dirty diapers and infantile affection.

I love every square inch of this new chick with a fierceness I could not have predicted. But as I considered my deep affection for him, I remembered again the possibility that we might get separated soon. And if that happens chances are good that he will never know about me. Or my love for him. And that thought shatters my heart. Every. Single. Time. 

Because I'm eager. Desperate. Passionate for him to know my love. 

I want him to know that he brings me unspeakable joy. How I think he's wonderful and that I love to simply sit and stare at him. I want him to know the way I marvel over who he is and covet his continued presence in my life. To know I am jealous for him and would do anything to protect him. How I am for him. And that I yearn for a relationship with him that does not end. I want him to know I wish my place in his life was secure. That I shake with sobs over the thought of losing him. And most of all this: That if it were up to me, he would never go a day without experiencing my love for him. 

Because my love has the power to change everything for him. In him. Around him. About him. Love is a game changer. A life changer. It transforms circumstances and casts out fears and fights offenders and offers a home. And given the chance I would apply it to his life over and over and over again. I could change the trajectory of his life with it.

As I stood in the driveway with love for my foster son overwhelming my heart, God gently reminded me how weeks ago I had asked Him to help me grasp the depth of his love. And then He said.

Look at your love for him. You'll see my love for you. 

And for the first time in my life, I bowed my head and wept over the intensity of His love for me. 

Ya'll, I grasped hold of it. How he deeply adores me. How he graciously pursued me. How he gave everything to have me. It was the single most profound experience of God's love I've ever been wrecked with.

And I was suddenly, shockingly, irreversibly compelled to share it with those who have not taken hold of it. Not His Lordship. Not His Faithfulness. Not His Majesty. His Life Changing Love.

Because there are so many separated from him. And what if they never know that He marvels over them? What if no one ever tells them that He craves a relationship with them? That He has moved heaven and earth to have them? That His every thought is for them? That He grieves over the thought of losing them? And how if it were up to Him, they would never go another day without experiencing his profound, life altering, senseless love for them?

His love is The Game Changer. The Life Changer. It moves mountains and casts out fears and fights offenders and offers a home. It can change the trajectory of a life. His love has the power to change EVERYTHING. 

It is life changing love.

Do you know someone who needs to hear about (or be reminded of) God's love for them? Share this with them! God might just use it to change a life.

To Grieve a Little

I've heard it twice now. But it was the second time that got me. Something along the lines of,

"You knew what you were signing up for" after I disclosed the fear and pain of potentially seeing this little one leave. 

Why, yes. Yes I did. 

We walked into this with eyes wide open. We accepted the likelihood of sending children back after loving them. We knew the danger for heartache and pain. We considered the negatives. We weighed all the risks. 

But in the end, we found them worth it. This sweet baby who's tethered to my heart, he's worth loving. 

And he's worth grieving. 

I don't feel one ounce of hesitation about weeping over him. Being informed of the facts beforehand won't keep me from missing him when he's gone. Or loving him till the day I die. 

My grief means I've loved deep. And I think Jesus is okay with that. 

He loved deep too. 

In fact, He had his own bout with grief. He grieved even though he knew He had signed up for it upon entering planet earth. 

Because part of living in this feeble skin is loving and losing. 

And knowing pain is coming doesn't make it's punch hurt any less.

He suffered loss. It cut deep. 

And He wept.

He wept even though He knew He was going to set it all right. 

I weep even though I believe that, too. 

If you're in a season of grief, keep this in mind: grieving deeply is not a sign of a weak faith. It's the evidence of a strong love. 

And the loss of a beloved is always worth grieving. 

Trusting God with the Pain of Foster Care

"Won't it be hard if you have to give him back?"

The nurse asked sheepishly as we chatted between head measurements and weight checks. I pinched my lips into a solemn smile and nodded the tiniest of nods.

I've heard the same question from a dozen others who have been brave enough to ask since this New Chick joined my nest. But just like in the pediatricians office, I rarely attempt an answer. Mainly because I worry that I might start crying.  
But also this; I'm afraid that I might make THEM start crying too. And I don't want to heap this pain on others. This hurt hurts. And any woman who considers it with me is going to hurt too. 

But what if by shying away from sharing my hurt, I'm robbing them of the chance to experience the Healer?

Won't it be hard if you have to give him back? It's a vital question and it begs an honest answer.

Yes. Yes it will be hard if we have to give him back.

I'll grieve. I'll hurt.

I'll shake with sobs over the devastating loss it will be. I'll ache with the pain from the severing of a life completely grafted to mine.

I'll cry cupfuls that many will see.

And buckets that most won't.

I will be weak. I will ask God why. I might question His plan.

I'll hate DHR and detest the system.

There will be tremendous pain. Possibly like I've never experienced before. But after I've drained the sorrow, after I'm spent...

God. Will. Come.

And He will gather my wounded and weary soul to Himself and with the voice that calms seas He will say,

"Well done good and faithful servant. What you have done for the least of these, you have done for me."

He might not make sense of it.
He might not tell me why.

But He will remind me that He Is Good. And that what He requires of me, He will supply. If He asks me to hand that baby, every bit my baby, over to another, He will give me the supernatural strength to do it. And then He'll walk with me every step of every awful day after.

This is my firm conviction. And the only way I can face this uncertain future. 
This is the only truth that allows me love that little one completely, knowing I might let him go: 

That His grace to get me trough will be enough. And that He will make it well with my soul.

Whatever pain you might be facing. The same is true for you.

Foster Care Means More

Foster Care means 
more mouths to feed
more hineys to wipe
more fingernails to clip.

It means 
another car seat to buckle
another nose to wipe
another body to bathe.

Foster care means
more visits to the doctor
more appointments to keep
more gas in the car.

It means 
more laundry 
more dishes
more sweeping
more working.

It means more vomit
more snot
more tangles
more poop
more pee.

It is more 
agencies to deal with
more systems to navigate
more people in your business
more government to answer to.

Foster care means
more uncertainty
more desperation
more complication
more giving up
more end of the rope
more worry
more loss
more heartbreak
more tears
more fear.

It also means
more help for your hurt
more grace for your burdens
more mercy for your mistakes
more joy for your journey.

Foster care means 
more of them.
More of Him. 
Less of Me.

A Mess

Originally posted on www.ourthrivelife.com.

Feeling sick all day, along with a rainy evening, meant one thing in my book: grits and eggs for supper. The family gone to church, I decided to cook some up just for me. I put the grits in the microwave (I know, they're better on the stove...ain't nobody got time for that) and moved on to beat the eggs. I thought to check the grits 27 seconds too late. They had bubbled over into a sticky, gritty mess. In my clean microwave. And if there is one thing I HATE to clean, it's the microwave. .

Argh. What a mess.

A deep cleaner I am not, but I do prefer the house in order. Toys put away, dishes in the dishwasher, counter tops cleared, and clothes where they belong. (As if that ever happens all at once.) On more than one occasion I've planted the children in front of the t.v. to keep them from destroying my freshly (somewhat) tidied home. A cup of coffee, occupied children, and an ordered environment. A girl could get used to that. For a whole 20 minutes.

While attempting to undo the damage done to my microwave, the thought struck me that this grits problem wasn't the only mess I had been dealing with lately. Ever since we welcomed a new family member, it seemed our life was being taken over by messiness.

There were the typical messes that comes with any newborn. Poopy diapers. Spit up. Baby wipes and burp cloths strewn here and there. Bouncy seats and butt paste and swaddle blankets and suction bulbs and tiny socks and why is all this stuff necessary?! I look around and think, "Will I ever dig out of this hole?" Who would have thought that just one extra tiny person would cause such a jump in the messiness factor. Sometimes I can roll with it, reminding myself that this season is more for loving than for cleaning. But the longer I have to literally kick my way to my bed the harder that perspective is to maintain.

But there is also a new kind of mess I've been introduced to since this baby boy joined our crew. The mess that comes with foster care. No way around it, there is nothing neat or tidy or orderly about being a foster parent. Nearly every aspect of this venture comes with complications and is riddled with chaos.

Take, for example, my weekly schedule. What used to be streamlined and somewhat normal now includes multiple trips to the social worker's office, doctor visits, court dates, visitations with birth mom, and appointments with the social security office. I've never been in so many government buildings in my life and I'm getting a first hand education on how the child protective service system works. And it is messy! (Amen?) A simple change in baby formula can constitute 6 emails, two phone calls and a visit to the pediatrician. I can no longer cross state lines without written documentation and my babysitters require fingerprinting.

Even doing "normal"community activities has changed to something interesting. We never know when we might bump into our foster son's birth family. It just so happens that our oldest son plays on the same ball team as our foster son's cousin! Now that's messy, folks. And makes for an interesting bleacher experience.

The way I feel about this darling boy's birth mother is messy too.  I see her love for him and it makes me ache.I want her to meet Jesus and get her life on track and know the joy of raising her own son.  But I also want to keep him under my own protective roof where I know the kind of care and love he will receive. One minute I'm rooting for her, and the next I'm looking at her through jaded and doubtful eyes. What a mess.

Nope. Nothing tidy about foster care. Not my future, not my calendar, and certainly not my emotions. Some days it's just plain yuck. But when I consider the mess we entered when we chose to do this, I think about Another who willingly walked into one, too.

It was no mess-free world our Savior embraced. No uncluttered lives He chose to save. He left perfection for chaos. An eternity of ease for a span of time that promised heartache and pain. As the Creator he must have craved order, this world set right the way it was intended. Sin had made a mess of things. Of relationships and priorities and desires. Which is why he came. He walked through our mess with us, to us, undeterred by what it cost him. And His great sacrifice made things right.

Jesus loved me enough to take me in, mess and all. To love like He loved means embracing this little one. Mess and all.

The Truth About Me

It seems there's a rumor going around that I'm some kind of exceptional person. Everywhere I go since we gained a housemate, I'm greeted with "What you are doing is amazing" and "You're inspirational" and "You have the best hair". (Okay. Not that one. But I really want good hair.) My inbox has been flooded peppered with over-the-top kindness from people telling me how great we are for fostering this darling boy. And this is causing me all kinds of anxiety because I know the truth, and it's time to let the masses in on it.

There's a false belief that you have to be a "special person" to take a child into your home that isn't your own. Like we must posses some above average ability to love or parent or follow Jesus. I've been told how brave I am, how full of faith. And while I covet every thoughtful word of encouragement, I can't have people thinking we're anything special. Because we simply are not.

The faith that led us to fostering was full of ups of downs. Up days when I was excited and motivated and ready to take on whatever small and wounded soul the Lord sent. Mostly those days were on Sundays. There was something about standing with my church family and singing to the Savior that gave me the strength I needed to keep walking into the unknown. The song Oceans by Hillsong United became my theme and I sobbed like a baby every time we sang it. Sundays I was full of faith and trust in God's guidance and provision.

But by Tuesday I was usually saying are you sure, Lord? Cause I really need you to make this one clear. My motto became, "Lord, I do believe. Help my unbelief!" I was a volatile mixture of fear and faith.

There were plenty of down days. Days I wasn't sure I wanted to do this. My family was happy and normal healthy and rolling merrily down the road. Our kids were becoming more self sufficient and I began to consider working outside the home. Our life was easy and manageable. And under control. We had a good thing going and I wondered if we should risk it all.

So if you think we decided to foster and then walked headstrong to the day of our first placement with little hesitation, you're dead wrong. I doubted everything. I doubted my ability to maintain the stability of my current children while also bringing in a new child who needed extra care. I wondered how I could keep up with the endless emotional demands that come with raising kids from hard places. I fought the fear that fostering would somehow lead Titus and Anna to grow up resentful and reject Christ. I obsessed about what problems a foster child might bring into our home. What if they cracked our foundation? During the dark hours when I was plagued with doubts, I knew that I didn't have the faith required to do this.

God would have to give it to me. 

Now that we have a sweet little one in our home, there are moments of exhilaration. We are water walking! We stepped out of the boat and HE IS FAITHFUL. He is giving us what we need moment by moment to navigate this wild new way of living. And often, it's a rush. We're touching a life. We're serving the least of these. We're rocking this new adventure with Christ!

But sometimes I look at the waves and lose sight of His grip. And that's when I plummet to the depths.

Nathan was holding him while I was fixing a bottle. He pondered out loud, "I wonder what he'll look like when he gets older." The first thing that came to my mind also came out of my mouth...

"What if we never know."

My heart has never been this vulnerable,this laid out for potential pain. I get physically nauseated at the thought of him leaving us. Of not having him under my protective wing and watchful eye. I fear the day that I might have to hand him over. I worry. I grieve the unknown possibilities. It's a daily struggle to remember that he might not be a permanent fixture in our family. That he has another mother and my rights are none. I get overwhelmed with the onslaught of new emotions that became my constant companion when he joined us three weeks ago.

And it's not just the tough stuff, I wrestle with all the silly and selfish aspects of this new thing too. Like, where did my free time go? I kinda want some of it back. I drool at the thought of a housekeeper. And a cook. Or a babysitter that doesn't have to be fingerprinted and background checked.  And I know my sin nature is really kicking into high gear when I start keeping count of the hours of sleep that Nathan is getting verses mine.

I'm harder on my kids because there's more to do and less time to do it. I fuss at my husband for leaving junk laying around - despite the fact that he has served me and these kids sacrificially nearly every waking minute since our new normal began. I get aggravated. I get tired. I get testy. Just ask my family.

Sweet readers, my belabored point is this. There is nothing special about me or my family.We're weird and messy and sometimes mean. I have hang ups. I have fears. I have faults. The only thing "special" about me that makes this task doable, is that I also have Jesus. 

Questions People Ask

I was at Titus' school for a Trike-a-thon and had baby boy with us. A sweet lady came over to see what I had in my "pouch" (sling).  After the ooo-ing and ahh-ing, she asked how old he was.

"Two weeks," I replied.

"Two weeks!? Wow. You don't look like you just gave birth two weeks ago."

Well, that's a relief.

I don't usually advertise the fact that he's my foster son, but to escape the lie that I squeeze into regular jeans 14 days after childbirth, my conscience demanded that I fess up. After I explained, again, (because I've repeated this scenario a dozen times since he joined our crew) came all the questions.

But honestly, I don't mind the questions. Answering them is a platform of sorts. A chance to talk about what we've learned and promote the big, big need for foster parents.  It's an opportunity to educate and dispel myths on a subject I've become passionate about. So bring 'em on. My guess is that since strangers and church members and best friends and everyone in between have questions about how fostering works, others might too.

Disclaimer: This will undoubtedly be my driest and dullest post. (We can hope, anyway). I operate more in the realm of storytelling and persuasion and anything that involves emotion. Straight facts with little commentary give me flashbacks to writing research papers. The horror. I get all worked up about being inaccurate and incorrect and saying something that will make social workers revoke my foster license.

But I can well remember the hours I spent online when we began considering foster care. It was a huge unknown. In all my life, I've never had a personal relationship with someone who was a foster parent, or a foster child. I had no framework of experience through which to filter my questions, no one to ask about the process, no flesh and blood person to fill me in on what life might look like if we took the foster care route. And the greatest desire I had was for information on this great unknown. Trying to wade through government sites of garbally gook was barely helpful. What I needed  was someone to answer my questions in everyday language and give me real life examples.

So in the spirit of providing information for those who are curious, or considering foster care, I give you the following questions I get most often and how I usually answer them.
(Keep in mind, I'm usually less sarcastic to people's faces.)

Question #1 - Are you going to keep him?

As if it were that simple. The short answer is, "We have no idea."

By it's very nature, fostering is designed to be temporary. The long term plan for most children who are brought into custody is for reunification with the birth parent(s). The child is not an orphan and parental rights have not been terminated, therefore the child is not currently adoptable. His parents aren't dead-just unable to care for him due to abuse, neglect, or failure to provide. So the Child Protective Services places him/her in a foster home with the hope that they will only be in custody until the parents are deemed able to care for the child again. Of course, in cases of extreme abuse, the plan is not for reunification.

So, when a child comes into foster care, most of the time they are not up for adoption. They may eventually become adoptable (more about that later) but for the time, the state has custody and a temporary placement (foster home) is found until they are returned to their home, to a close family member, or become adoptable.

When the social worker asked us if we wanted to foster our new addition, we knew that our future with him was highly uncertain. He may be with us a short while, many months or his status may change at some point to adoptable. At which time we would sign on the dotted line. But at this point, only One knows "if we are going to keep him."

Question #2 - How long will you have him?

Pretty much the same answer as #1. There is no way for us to know. The biological mom has 14 days from the time he was brought into care to name relatives she would like to be considered as a family resource-someone in the family who could take custody of him. After a family resource is named, DHR begins the process of determining if that person is able/fit to take him. They look at many of the same things that were considered for our foster care license- home inspection, income, background check, interest in the child, etc. This process takes several weeks, more if the family resource lives across county lines. If the family resource checks out as a good option for him, he may only be with us 4 weeks or so.

If the family resource does not get permission for custody, then he will potentially stay with us until he is either reunified with his birth mom, or he becomes adoptable.

Question #3 - Why was he removed from his parents?

Can't talk about it. Not as in, it's too emotional. But for confidentiality purposes. This little guy doesn't need that aspect of his story shared with the masses. Some people don't know how to respect the delicacy of that information. In order to protect him, and his birth parents, we keep this (generally) to ourselves.

Question #4 - What are the chances he will go back to his biological mom?

It depends entirely on her. If she does all the things the court has asked her to do, the chances are high. Alabama believes (in theory anyway) in the preservation of families. In other words, the court system and human resources work to reunify children with their families. But the road to that actuality is very difficult for many parents. The cycle of sin is nearly impossible to break for countless moms and dads who have had their children taken away. It is obvious to me that our little guy's mom loves him. The question is, can or will she take all the steps necessary to earn the confidence of the social workers and court system.

Question #5 - At what point would you be able to adopt him?

The general guideline is to give birth parents one year to get their act together. If the parents do not meet all the court orders and deadlines during those 12 months, the court will (usually)begin a "permanent plan" for the child. In order for our little one to become adoptable, the court would have to terminate parental rights. However, some courts are more inclined to do that than others. Many simply want to give the birth parents every reasonable chance to get their child back. Which means the child is in foster care for longer. If parental rights are terminated, we would get first dibs on adopting him. Even if he does become adoptable after that year (or so) the process to adopt takes time too.

We're relatively new to this whole process and still have loads to learn. My perspectives and answers to these questions may change dramatically as we actually live this thing out. If you are a seasoned foster care veteran, by all means share your answers to these questions in the comments field. The educational process is fluid and we need your input! If you're a rookie like me and curious about a question I didn't address, ask that too.

And Then It Got Real: My First Foster Care Experience

Our local Baptist Association was hosting an Easter egg hunt for foster families. They were kind enough to include prospective foster parents in on the invitation. I was relieved when I pulled up and saw two other couples from the GPS (foster care certification) classes.  I was a newbie and totally felt like it. Seeing other newbies I could band with turned down the awkward dial. 

Foster mom's were pulling up in minivans and SUVs with multiple kids of different races piling out. As I watched little ones toddle around with Easter baskets bigger than they were, I began to think about how real this whole thing was becoming. These were actual souls, no longer case studies or statistics. Here were babies and preschoolers and big kids who had found a safe haven in the homes of loving families. They were protected. And happy. And doing normal little kid stuff. The weight that we might be embracing one just like them in a few weeks settled like a heavy quilt. Just warm. And not burdensome. 

I stayed for only 45 minutes knowing I had another normal little kid event to attend (Titus' first game of the season!) then started saying my goodbyes. Several social workers from our county were there that day, and on my way out one asked if she could talk with me.

If you've read previous blog posts, you might assume nothing would shock me at this point. I should expect the unexpected. We all should. We serve a mysterious God who is a master plot-twister. And that day, He did it again.

"Beth, we got a call yesterday. There was a baby born Friday who we will  have to take into care on Monday. Would you and Nathan be interested in fostering this baby?"

One heartbeat. Eyes bulging.

"Yes!"

The easiest and quickest yes I've ever uttered. 

I vaguely remember asking if it was a boy or a girl, but at this point my IQ had dropped dramatically and I was having trouble forming sentences. A baby boy, she said.

EEEK!  A baby boy!

I got a few other details. But that was it. My brain was trying to compute a baby boy joining our nest. THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW. I don't even remember saying goodbye. And I definitely forgot to get her cell number. Did I buckle my seat belt after I got in the car? How do you start this thing?! Tee ball, game, Beth. Get it together and drive! You can wig out later.

I remember zilch about the drive to the ball field. Except that about half way there I started questioning my memory.

Did I hear her correctly? Did she mean this Monday? As in not tomorrow but the next day!?

I speed dialed my friend Machelle who I hoped and prayed was still at that Easter Egg hunt. "Machelle, this is Beth. Is Felecia still there? Hallelujah. Could you ask for her number. Wait. That's weird. She might not want to give me her personal number. Would you give her my number and ask her to call me as soon as she has a chance? It's REALLY important. Great, thanks!"

Cause that didn't raise an eyebrow at all.

As I walked toward the ball field from the parking lot like a zombie, another thought struck me.

Maybe I should have asked Nathan about this.

I stared at my son in all his cuteness playing ball and my husband rocking the coach role, but mentally I was elsewhere. Trying to figure out what the heck was going on up in here. We were only 8 weeks into our training. A baby boy was moving in? On Monday!? By my estimation, this whole scenario was at the very least 2 weeks earlier than I had expected.

I should stop expecting.

Those games only last about 30 minutes. Hallelujah, amen. Because I needed to talk to my husband NOW. The teams shook hands, kids came by for snacks. I did the, "Great job, Titus!" spill. Nathan gave me the "How did it go?" eyebrow raise.

And then I lowered the boom on his orderly and predictable world.

Something about sharing the news with Nathan forced reality to set it. And with reality came the excitement. You've heard of nesting. I went into hyper-nesting. My mind racing with what all needed to be done.  I had a crib. But that was the extent of the baby gear at my house. No bottles. No car seat. No changing pad. No nothing. I had enjoyed 36 weeks of preparation for my two biological babies. I was looking at 36 hours at best for this one. How was I going to get everything I needed in 36 HOURS?!

Shortly after we left the ball field, I gave my friend Katrina the news. Three hours later she bust up in my driveway, SUV loaded down with baby gear. Later Calli came with even more stuff. Bless the hearts of mom's who keep everything and are willing to share! They totally tended to my heart with their generosity and prevented wide scale panic since I was down to around 30 hours at that point.

The next day (Sunday) was a blur. I didn't talk about our news much to church members. Quite frankly I was beginning to wonder if I had dreamed the whole thing. It was a packed day from beginning to end which left no time for hand wringing or anxiety. We just did life. With the knowledge that we could be gaining a family member the next day.

Monday morning came. Titus out the door to school and a kiss to Nathan on his way to work. I remember him saying, "Call me if we have a baby. I'll come home."

I love that guy.

I performed the worlds fastest house cleaning, dressed Anna and dashed to the grocery store for FORMULA and DIAPERS. By 11am I was home wondering if this was really going to happen.

Shouldn't they have called by now? If nothing else but to confirm I would be home? Maybe they decided to take him to someone else. What is the protocol for this sort of thing?!

At 1:45 pm, the phone rang.

"Beth, what's your address?  We're on our way to the hospital and then we'll be straight over to your house."

WITH A BABY, YA'LL.

It struck me then.  That fragile three-day-old wee one was being picked up by strangers, only to be transported to a stranger's home, to be cared for by strangers.

Begin heartbreak. And tears.

30 long minutes went by before I heard Gracie barking alerting us to outsiders on the premises. It was raining. One social worker was holding an umbrella over the other as she tried to maneuver the carseat out of the car. I ran over and bounced around them like a chihuahua. Eager to help but not wanting to take over too quickly.

And then he was under my roof. In my living room. And I got my first look.

No words. Just big, deep emotions.

The stranger transport people stayed about 20 minutes. As my friend Jenna described it, having appliances delivered often demands more ritual and paperwork. I signed nothing. Knew nothing. Save his name. And the immediate, overwhelming desire to nurture and protect this tiny one.

How long that role would belong to me was a mystery. A great unknown that would dominate my thoughts in the days to come. But that first night with him brought one certainty. He was now a part of us. Our history. Our story. And we were a part of his.

A New Direction. Again. Some More.

After Nathan and I changed course to pursue domestic adoption, and then had the surprise visit from the Haitians, we settled into Christmas celebrations and anxiously waited for a phone call from our state agency to fill us in on next steps. 

We are not good waiters. 

Not like as in a restaurant. As in waiting. For stuff to happen. For people who have the information to tell us what our lives might look like in the future. So after a week, we called them. They reported that the next step was to take a mandatory training class which would take place some time starting in January.  They would call and let us know when. 

Ehhh. More waiting. 

In the meantime, we had plenty to discuss.  Like if we were going to be adopting or fostering. Seven years earlier when we had first discussed raising children who were not ours biologically, I had informed Nathan that I was not interested in fostering. My reasons were similar to many you've probably heard before. Reasons you might state yourself. Mainly, I didn't think I could have a child placed in my home only to have it removed later. How could I love and nurture a child and then let it go? Possibly likely back to a home situation I felt was unsafe or unsuitable. I couldn't fathom how I would navigate that kind of heartache.

On the way back home from a trip to Kentucky, we stopped to see dear friends who had adopted the year before. We were excited to catch up with them and meet their daughter. Since we were at the beginning of the adoption process, we annoyed them with questions. At some point they asked if we were considering foster care or adoption only. Nathan looked at me with that you answer this, it's your hangup look. I remember Rebecca mentioning that they were interested in fostering when their daughter got older. And then she made a statement that has stuck in my head ever since. "Some kids just need a soft place to land while their parents get it together."

Hmmm. I chewed on that for a while. And prayed about it.

I told God again how unsure I was about loving a child and then sending it off into the unknown. That it would break my heart to give one up that had become a part of my family. That I struggled with the unknowns and possible transitory situations that came with fostering. That I wasn't sure I could handle my home becoming a revolving door of children. 

And then He said something really profound.

This isn't just about you, Beth.

Owww. 

But He was right. This isn't about what is comfortable for me (for the love, this process is demolishing every comfort zone I've ever embraced). Or safe. Or easy. Or assured. This isn't about what will keep my heart feeling warm and fuzzy. 

This is about the least of these. This is about children up the road from our homes who are living through hell. Who are scared. And beaten. And molested. And broken. Who simply need a consistent parent figure to say you are worth it. You are worth me possibly getting my heart broken in the process of loving you. You are worth my home being turned upside down while we all adjust to each other. You are worth extra laundry, extra cleaning, extra doctor visits, extra homework, extra diapers. Jesus died for you, precious one, so you are worth the room in my heart and life to love you. Even if it's only for a time. Even if a little piece of me dies if you go away. 

Nothing about following Christ is tame or safe. We've decided to change directions from adoption only, to fostering too. That ain't safe, folks. It's not safe for my heart, or our checkbook, or our social life, or my sanity! I might get broken in this process. Every person who currently lives in my house will suffer. But if we suffer for another, we might look a little more like our Savior. And I want soo much to look like him. I want to love like He loved. With no thought of self. In order to redeem another. 

I'm not saying every Christ follower is called to foster. Or adopt. The least of these are everywhere we find humans who are overlooked and mistreated. You won't need to look long or hard to find a vulnerable life of some kind to minister to. Jesus said whatever we do for them, we do for Him. And Worthy is the Lamb.

But let's stop shying away from serving them because we want to protect our hearts. Our hearts are already secure. They are eternally tied to the One who's heart bled out for us. He can help us deal with a broken heart. Let's put our hearts on the line for those who don't know Christ. Because it's not our hearts that are in danger. 

It's the infant who crawls around in a home with dirty drug needles on the floor and isn't fed or held or changed. It's the 4 month old baby girl who is slammed against the wall during a domestic dispute and the 2 year old who saw the whole thing. It's the 13 year old girl who is being targeted by sex slave organizations because she has no one who cares where she is or what she is doing. It's the 7 year old boy who hates the weekends because the only time he gets fed regularly is at school. 

It's their hearts and lives and eternity on the line.

Not mine.