Lesson Learned: Dogs Cannot Be Trusted to Make a Bargain

Quick post to give you an update. We have recovered from the drama that was the beginning of this month.

We had the opportunity this weekend to do Respite Care for two boys ages 10 and 11. Respite is the foster care word for giving foster parents a break. It’s also a word meaning “Scott and Kelly get to borrow children to do cool things with that we might look weird doing without children.”  Really, foster parents take on a lot when they take children into their home, so the agency says you get two weekends off a month and we (the agency) will find childcare for you (oh and pay the childcare givers).

So we had these boys for a couple hours last month and then all weekend this month. WE HAD A BALL.

• -          We played Lego Batman 2 on the Xbox. FYI: we do that even without children; that’s how cool we are [Scott's note:  "Cool" seems like such a strong word].
• -          We made a fire in our fire pit and roasted marshmallows and hot dogs.
• -          We tried to blow up a bar of soap in our microwave. FYI: Don’t trust a 10 year old when he says it turns into a fluffy cloud. Maybe we had the wrong kind of soap. The house smelled like burned soap for several hours.
• -          We read stories. We played with real Legos.
• -          One of the boys took a “shower” outside under the water hose. The water was really cold. They other said he would prefer a bubble bath inside with warm water please and thank you.
• -          We went swimming at my mom’s house.
• -          They tried to teach me how to throw a football. FYI: I’m not so good at that. But Gwen Dogg is really good at catching the football and hiding it in the bushes.
• -          We had French toast one morning – they didn’t know it could be homemade.
• -          We ate a whole box of Froot Loops in one sitting.
• -          We had mint chocolate chip ice cream.
• -          We taste-test Oreo Cookies vs. the Target brand – thanks Heather!

We were really touched by how loving and polite these two boys were.  They said “Yes Ma’am” and “Yes Sir.” They gave hugs and even asked about Jesus. They put their dishes in the dishwasher.  They didn’t interrupt when adults were having conversations. The boys had tons of questions and were so excited to do everything.

When we explained that our little dog Mr. Tumnus is “a bad dog” because he begs for food from the table, chases cats, and sometimes potties in the house, they replied, “He is not a bad dog; he just makes bad choices.” Later that night that same boy was scolding Tumnus for not adhering to their “bargain.” Tumnus was only supposed to eat the outside of the hotdog that got burned over the fire and leave the inside for him. I told them not to trust a dog’s bargain. I think Tumnus ate at least 3 hotdogs, chips, and a cheese stick that night.

We discussed multiple times that eating grape seeds would not cause grapes to grow in your stomach, unless maybe you ate some dirt and a Starburst.

We discussed that despite what Jim said there are NOT sharks in the swimming pool.

It was a great weekend.  Maybe next time we can borrow girls and go see Disney Princesses on Ice!

--K

In Defense of Dark Days (or "Where's God When I'm Furious?")

In the wake of our infuriating and heart-breaking false alarm, a common condolence we heard was, "God has a plan for the two of you.  Don't be discouraged.  You'll find out soon enough."  No-one said that verbatim, but if you were to take everything everyone said, it would come out sounding something like that (possibly with some foul language, due to a couple of our more foul-mouthed -- but nonetheless heart-warming -- friends).

I learned a long time ago that I can't worry about God's plan for me.  I've begged, pleaded, and prayed for a peek and God, in His infinite mystery (and probably wisdom), has refused to show me.  In those moments of desperation, I am reminded of Deuteronomy 31:8.  "The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.  Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."  This is quickly followed by Jeremiah 29:11, "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'"  I'm reminded of these verses, yet, as pain leads to frustration and frustration to fury, their promises can seem so hollow.

The promises seem especially hollow when, from your vantage point, you can't see what you're doing wrong.  I'm not saying I (or we) have done everything right, but I can't look back and see what I (or we) have done wrong.  Kelly and I both try to live life as genuinely, as unguarded, and as fully as possible.  We have measured our talents and we have set about to use them for good.  We want to leave this world a better place than when we've found it and when people ask "why" we're more than happy to reply honestly and say, "because that's what God did for us."

It's a mistake to blame God for bad things happening to you.  Blaming God for your pain is like blaming the sun for your sunburn -- not to say all pain is avoidable or your own fault.  It's just a consequence of living in this world.  There is evil in this world, bent on your destruction.  There are people who act selfishly.  There are people who act foolishly.  There are well-meaning people who simply make mistakes.  There are lies.  There is miscommunication.  There are things, quite simply, that will lead to us getting hurt.  I do not believe any of them are part of God's plan.

God having a plan for me doesn't mean I will be immune to this world and the effects of sin.  God knowing what's best for me and me trying to allow for that to happen doesn't mean I'm going to get it right.  God's plan also, very honestly, may be something I am not at all comfortable with or interested in.  There are plenty of men and women in the Bible who wanted to follow God but did not want -- in any way -- to do what He asked them to do (see also:  Noah, Abraham, Joseph, Moses, Job, Esther, Jonah, Gideon, and at least eleven of the twelve apostles).  Perhaps that is what I take the most comfort in.

Feeling pain doesn't mean you're doing anything wrong.  Feeling pain means you're alive.  Feeling pain doesn't mean God has turned his back on you.  Feeling pain doesn't mean you're broken or that you need fixing.  Feeling pain does, for me, remind me why I need God in my life.  Without Him I would not have made it through the last couple of years.  Without Him I would not be where I am right now, looking forward to the future with a bit of hope and optimism.

So don't despair during your dark days.  You're not alone.  You're not the first to feel this.  The sun will come out and eventually this will all make sense.  That's what I've learned and that's what I'm still reminding myself of.

-S

The cynical Bible reader (which I can be) should read the books of Job and Ecclesiastes.  They are wonderfully dark books that demand questions of God while pointing out all the general screwed-up-edness of the world.  They have guided me through (and of out of) many-a dark day.

False Alarm

It's amazing how quickly you can plummet from the highest peak to the lowest valley.  The short version of the story is:  We were misinformed.

The longer version is:  We were told the boys were coming to our home.  We were given their Social Security cards and their medical histories.  We were told the boys were coming to our home.  We told the foster care people that we were taking time off to help the boys acclimate to their new home, because it was our intent to adopt these boys.  We were told that was a great idea.  Once we felt assured that the boys were coming, we announced it to all our friends and family.  Kelly had the major insurance company she works for rearrange her entire workload to make up for the fact that she wouldn't be there for a month.  We were told the boys were coming to our home.  At roughly 2pm, the coordinator told us she was going to go see and pick up the boys at 4:15 and then brought to our home.  We were told the boys were coming to our home.

At 6:30, when we hadn't heard anything, we texted our coordinator to see what was going on.  What was going on, it seems, is that the boys weren't coming to our home.  They were staying with the foster family they are currently with.  We were a back-up plan -- a Plan B.  The foster care coordinators had thought the family the boys were with were going to quit being foster parents.  When they heard this, they contacted us to see if were interested.

The thing of it is, we were never told we were a Plan B.  During all of our conversations, the only vagueness that was conveyed to us was at what time the boys would be coming to our home.

So . . . I'm sorry.  False Alarm.

Strychnine in the Well

We have been so amazed by people's support and love through this entire process.  Every time we announce another small victory, it seems like all of Facebook just erupts in joy.  It honestly has taken us very by surprise and has greatly humbled us.  We honestly expected more people like Rachel Lynde:

"Well, Marilla, I'll just tell you plain that I think you're doing a mighty foolish thing--a risky thing, that's what. You don't know what you're getting. You're bringing a strange child into your house and home and you don't know a single thing about him nor what his disposition is like nor what sort of parents he had nor how he's likely to turn out. Why, it was only last week I read in the paper how a man and his wife up west of the Island took a boy out of an orphan asylum and he set fire to the house at night--set it ON PURPOSE, Marilla--and nearly burnt them to a crisp in their beds. And I know another case where an adopted boy used to suck the eggs--they couldn't break him of it. If you had asked my advice in the matter--which you didn't do, Marilla--I'd have said for mercy's sake not to think of such a thing, that's what ... I hope it will turn out all right only don't say I didn't warn you if he burns Green Gables down or puts strychnine in the well--I heard of a case over in New Brunswick where an orphan asylum child did that and the whole family died in fearful agonies. Only, it was a girl in that instance."

And to be honest, we do have a couple Mrs. Lyndes in our life, but we don't blame them for being cautious.  We know they're only looking out for us and are trying to protect us from being hurt or harmed -- be it emotionally or physically.  And to be fair to them, there are a lot of horror stories out there.  It's important, however, to remember the context of these "horror stories."

Every child in the foster care system has gone, or is going through, trauma.  They've been taken from their homes.  Some of them have been abused and neglected their entire life up to this point.  Some haven't been neglected or abused; their parents may have done a good job of shielding them from their destructive behavior.  Regardless of the child's previous situation, they find themselves suddenly living with strangers.  How would you react if you were taken from the only home you've ever known and you were forced to live with people who may have absolutely nothing in common with you?

They may not be carrying any physical scars, but each and every one of them is carrying some emotional ones.  They're a little bit broken and it's our job to help them put those pieces back together.

We're supposed to meet them today.  They're supposed to come home with us today and sleep in the beds we've prepared for them.  Thank-you, everyone, for your words of comfort, encouragement, and caution.  We've appreciated it so much.

We can't wait for this next chapter to begin.

-S

Just Say No?

It has been almost a month since we were approved to be foster parents.

There are 408,000 children are in foster care in the US and 107,000 of those are eligible for adoption, per the FosterCare Statistics 2010 Fact Sheet.

We have gotten three calls with placement offers and one call for respite care. We said no to all three placement calls. The first was a toddler who only needed a temporary placement. The other two were teenage girls.  The first was a 17 y/o girl who “just needed someone to help get her through senior year.” She turns 18 in February. The second was a 16 year old girl who had just come into custody and desperately wanted to stay at the high school near our home. I was the one to have the conversations and ultimately say no.

We watched two brothers, ages 10 and 11, Saturday night as respite care for another foster family.  They were with us for four hours and we had a lot of fun. They walked right in and made themselves at home, asking a TON of questions. They were excited to meet our dogs and give them treats.

We introduced the boys to root beer floats and Legos. They were enamored with the chalk board on the wall in Scott’s office. “You can draw ON the wall?!?” They asked all about our family, how we met, and why we didn’t have any other kids. They were shocked that they were our first foster kids. They said that they had never been anyone’s first foster kids. They were extremely polite. They said yes ma’am and yes sir. They even put their dishes in the sink. For being 10 and 11 they knew a lot about the foster system. They insisted that we do a lot of thing other adults just don’t do – I guess we do play with Legos. . . By the end of the evening they both asked to stay with us.  We told them that not every day at our house was as much fun as that night. We also do laundry, clean the litter box, and do homework. They swore that they LOVE to fold laundry.

They did really well until it was time to be picked up by their foster family. They started arguing and fighting with each other as soon as their foster-mom called and said that she was on her way. It was interesting to see how reluctant they were to make the transition. Of course it was way past a reasonable bed time for 10 and 11 year olds, but we could read them like an open book. They were tired and had a lot of hurt behind their eyes. We don’t even know what that may be.

I am struggling with the emotional impact of saying no to children I don’t know and then also to these boys that we had in our home. It’s kind of heart wrenching to say no when the child asks you directly. We have said that we want to adopt rather than pursue fertility treatments so we can put our resources toward helping kids who are already here. We prayerfully and thoughtfully created a profile that says ages 0-5 years.  But it breaks my heart to say no to children who need a home. It will be much harder for the agency to find homes for these boys than a child under 5 years old. My rational side says remember the profile; stick to the profile you created when you were not emotional. But I feel like that may just be the excuse of a scared person. What if we say no to someone just because they don’t fit the picture of what we think our family looks like? What if it is just my fear or selfishness or doubts that keeps us from being parents to someone who needs us? Sometimes I don’t think I am mature enough for this.

Lots of thoughts…I’ll just keep waiting.

--K

Wait For It . . .

Waiting. It may be the word we use the most on this blog. "Why" is the word we use most at home, but mostly that is because Scott’s little dog insists on pottying in the living room, and we don’t know why. But that is an issue for another day.

Our home study was approved last Tuesday. A week ago. We were pretty excited. I was instantly nervous (I realized we didn't have a waterproof cover for the mattress or plastic cups or plastic plates or plastic eating utensils or enough Legos).  It struck us that placement is close. Impending even.  We are in a kind of scary limbo. We have put our employers on notice that we may need some time off sometime in the next week, month or year. It is hard to plan when you don't know what to expect.

We actually got our first call on Friday, July 6. It was for a 3 year old little girl. She had more medical issues that we could probably handle and she only needed a temporary placement.  So the coordinator basically made the decision that she was not a match for us. This was a new coordinator that we had not spoken with before. She was very nice and took the time to listen to me about what type of child we are looking for.  I am excited by the conversation and feel good that we have experienced our first call. Now we wait for the next call. Maybe it will be about our children.

So again we wait. This waiting feels more exciting than all the other waiting we have done before.  But it is also more agonizing.  It feels like every time the phone rings my heart skips a beat.  Each day we wonder, "Will we meet our child today?" "By bedtime tonight will we be three instead of two?" I think after we take a placement we will look back on this waiting time that feels so long right now and say "That was just a short time. Why were we so anxious?"  At this point we have waited three and half years; what is another week or month?

We are praying for our child and the other children too. We are praying that we say yes to the child who is ours. We trust that God will work it all out. Any impatience we feel is really excitement about the upcoming arrival of our child.

-K

Third Trimester

This must be what it feels like to in the third trimester of a pregnancy.  The end of The Beginning is fast approaching and while it has been filled with a wide range of emotions and in many ways feels like the end of an epic journey, it was just the prologue.  The real story begins now.

We vacillate between giddy, giggly excitement and sheer bloody terror.  Which, our rational sides tell us, is really to be expected and is probably a good sign.  Our rational side, of course, is nowhere to be seen when we're lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what we've gotten ourselves into.  But then we think about what it's going to be like going on adventures, or teaching something new, or helping overcome an obstacle and we get giddy and excited again.

We're done.  We just wait to be approved now.

Last Thursday we were fingerprinted with a very cool digital scanner.  We were a little disappointed not to dip our fingers in ink, as we wanted to share that picture on Facebook and on the blog, but technology has apparently rendered ink moot.  We turned in a rather scary-to-complete contingent parent form -- which was as weird as it was scary.


We haven't met this child (or these children) yet.  We have no idea what he/she/they are going to be like and what needs they're going to have.  But we needed to decide what to do with our hypothetical children in the hypothetical situation that is both of us dying.  Then we took our pets have their rabies shots -- which the pets were super psyched about.  


Those last few pieces completely the home study information.  Our adoption coordinator "Darla" advised us, "your fingerprints should be back by Monday or Tuesday and if all goes well your home could be approved by the end of next week (which is now this week) or the first week of July!  P.S. you could get a placement call as soon as the day you are approved!!!"


Those are her exclaimation points, not ours.  But that is about how excited, scared, and nervous we are (!!!).

This is probably the closest we'll feel to what that last month of pregnancy feels like (unless, of course, everyone is right and we get pregnant as soon as we adopt because, apparently that's what "always happens"). You know a little one is coming, but you don’t know when. You kind of know what to expect, but really have NO IDEA how much your life is going to change. Except that instead of a newborn we could get a 4 year old or two children. Or maybe an infant. Our profile says 0-5 years. The more we think about it the bigger that range seems. We have bottles, but not sippy cups. We have a highchair, but no tricycle.  We just keep reminding each other that there is nothing that we can’t live without until morning and Walmart is only 3.7 miles away.

Somehow those material things are the things we worry about. Maybe because those are the things that are easier to approach and control? We know those things matter less than our home and family being welcoming. Those material things matter less than the attachment we want to form with this child. BTW, we are looking for a good book on attachment – let us know if you have found one.

The podcast we are listening to actually addressed a big question we have: What do we tell our friends and family about becoming attached to this child?

There is chance the child may leave our home and return to their birth parents. We have accepted that risk going in. We understand that is a big risk to ask our friends and family to accept as well. After talking and thinking about it, we have confirmed that we want to ask our friends and family to become as attached as possible to this child. Whether he/she is with us for a short time or the rest of our lives we want to him/her to have a foundation of love and fellowship. No parent knows how long they will have their child with them, so it important for us to shower love on this child while he/she is with us. As adults we have the capacity to experience love and loss and live through it. We are strong enough to give part of ourselves to this child. We are never reduced by loving; we only grow.

So. We are excited to be on this journey and glad to invite you along for the adventure. We hope you will join us in welcoming a little one into our home and family. Possibly very soon.

-- S&K