What 13 Children can Teach

Keep the laundry done. You never know when you’ll have two hours to pack a bag, wrap up your heart, and shift your whole family as you say a sudden, “goodbye.”

Keep the hugs coming, even late at night when you’d rather sleep. That’s often when they need you most. One day they’ll grow up—or move on—and the late-night hugs will be gone.

Learn to sit on the bathroom floor. Sing songs, paint the toilet seat with shaving cream, bribe with candy… only for them to pee on the rug a minute later. That’s life—and it’s worth it.

Take lots of photos, even when it doesn’t feel like the “right” time. You may not get that moment again.

Love with your whole heart. A child is worth the risk of heartbreak. Jesus will catch the tears, and the memories will always be worth it.

Always journal, even in snippets. Pair words with photos. One day, the laughter, joy, and tears will bring healing.

Choose laughter often. Find it in your home, and help others find it in their hard places too. Joy shared in the middle of struggle is powerful.

play in the river that floods your street from the fire hydrant releasing water.

play in the rain and in the puddles

Be prepared to grow and to outgrow friendships. Foster care is a life changing experience and you will never be the same afterwards. Colors are brighter, heartaches are deeper, love is richer and Jesus is closer.

The Cigarette Musical Box

 My grandfather was a bit of a mystery to me when I was little.  My grandparents were divorced and that was an oddity in the 70s. I didn't know anyone divorced so the fact that they lived separately was strange. There was a story there, but I wouldn't know that story for years to come after my grandparents later remarried at the request, or rather demand of my mom.  They got married in the music office of Dale Perkins Sr in the old Mobberly Baptist Church on the south side of Longview.  Before they were married we would split out time between all the grandparents and lucky for us they all lived in Longview.  My other set of grandparents lived down the street from the old Mobberly and my grandfather lived close by with my grandmother living way out on Judson Road across from the school, the school that is now Judson Middle School. At the time it was a 2 land highway with a post office next door to her house that set off the road on a little bit of acreage.  My grandfather had built that house from a Sears kit many years ago and raised my mom there.

Now that we have some of the details I'll go back to my grandfather's green house.  I remember very little about the house other than the back yard where at one time he had a rabbit hutch with 2 fat rabbits.  I just thought they were pets, but as it turned out they weren't and lucky for me they also turned out to be 2 females and not a male and female so things didn't work out the way he intended.  I also remember a little musical cigarette box he had.  I wish I could remember all the details, but try as I may, I can't.  I just remember that it was a beautiful wooden box that played music and a cigarette was retrieved and would either come up from inside or out of the side.  I loved that little box and every time I came over he let me play with it. It intrigued me.  My grandfather thought it was funny that I loved it so much, but he told me one day it would be mine and that thrilled me thinking I would be able to play with it all the time. That and the fact that he always had gum for me, something my mom didn't let me have often.  It was Wrigley's, either spearmint or occasionally another flavor.  He also kept all his change in a jar and every now and then he would give me the jar with all the change. I would sit on the floor, playing his record player with Dolly Parton or another gospel group and count all the change.  He was have coin rollers and I would sit and count it all while listening to Working 9 to 5 or Jolene. He didn't say much.  He sat in his recliner and watched and he went about working on a car he was repairing for someone.  He wore his hair slicked back in the style of the 70's with plenty of grease and worked on cars.  That's it.  But that little music box as always there and I loved to see it every time.

Once my grandparents remarried to bought a house together close to the one my grandfather had lived it.  It had large shops out back to he could work on cars easier.  His office in there was magical.  He was very organized with his tools.  He had them hanging on the wall and every tool had a place and every tool was notched to mark them as his in case friends were sharing tools, they would know which ones belonged to the other.  I still played with the music box each time I came.  I, along with my siblings also picked up pecans from the many pecan trees they had.  He had cane polls rigged with the hooks of hangars so that we can reach up and tug on the branches to make the rope pecans falls.  We climbed on the roof of the carport and took turns knocking pecans down, often on our own heads. Sometimes we sat outside and sold paper bags of them for money.  He still gave us gum and coins and at one point he had a pet duck that followed him everywhere.

When I was in college my grandfather passed away from a heart attack and we all came back for the services. People moved in and out through the house while I took it all in. My other grandfather passed away within a couple of years of this one, but to be honest I can't remember which one was first. Even though I was in college I wasn't exactly sure what to do during this process, but as people came and went. I just shuffled food and cleaned plates and cups and got introduced to various people.  I knew many of them because I visited often and sometimes sang at their church.

Shortly after my grandfather's funeral, I remembered the music box and wanted to be sure and find it the next time we went over to the house.  As it turns out we would be going on several occasions due to events that occurred shortly after the funeral.  In my grandfather's shop, there was a somewhat secret door between the furthest open garage that held much taller vehicles and the shop that had a door on it.  It just blended into the wall and few knew it was there.  At some point my parents and grandmother determined that someone knew about the door and entered there and stole my grandfather's air compressor tools.  We knew they were all knotched if they were ever found, but the police could find nothing and there was no forced entry.  The air compressor itself remained, being way too heavy to move.  My parents were stumped and my grandmother was afraid since this happened behind their house and she had to have been home.  There were a few other tools missing I pointed out.  I knew because I loved the way my grandfather organized his tools and they were never out of place.  He always returned them and there were a few spots with missing tools that were not in that office.  There were some conversations that took place and hushed talking as my parents clearly felt they knew who had stolen the tools.  I was not privy to that information and it wasn't until many years later I learned what they suspected, but just didn't want to believe it so they convinced themselves it wasn't true. In that process of checking the house about the tools went missing, I went looking for the music box.  It was no where to be found.  I knew it was in the living room during the funeral sitting on a table, but now it was gone.  My grandmother had no idea and wasn't interested in looking.  I looked everywhere.  Every closet, and cabinet, but it was simply missing. Years went by and I would look, but it was just gone.To this day, I wondered what happened to that box.

And here we are.....

Foster Care Wrecked ME

Foster care took something from me.  Wrecked me. Truly did.  Took many things actually. Many things I didn't want to give up and fought hard to keep. I thought they were safe and built on solid ground. 

I      was     wrong

     When we started this journey I was ready to save the world.  I knew our home life was good.  I had a great husband and family.  I had great friends.  I had faith and a strong biblical foundation. I was a part of a great church.  I was a good parent. Of course I was doing this alongside God.  Of course.  

     What I failed to realize is that "I" would be doing nothing more than just being the broken, misshapen vessel that I had formed in my own hands.  I would not be alongside God.  He simply doesn't need me.  I would be used by Him as he molded me.  What I learned next is that His potter's wheel never stops.  The clay is not complete and won't be here on earth. I have too many cracks, messed up parts, imbalances and they need reshaping on a regular basis.  

He hands never leave.  They are always there.

Go down to the potter's house, and there I will give you my message. So I went down to the potter's house and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands, so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.
Jeremiah 18:2

We are the clay and you are the potter.  We are a work of your hands. Isaiah 64:8

     God led me here to show me through His eyes, His joy, his creation and His heartbreak, and it would in turn break me.  What is broken God will restore.  

I will give you a new heart and a new mind. I will take away your stubborn heart of stone and give you an obedient heart. Ezekiel 36:26

     How could I meet the biological parents who neglected or abused their children? I could not stand in their space. But Jesus could and Jesus did and he led me there to see HIS creation, HIS joy, HIS heartbreak. That lens was not my lens. I didn't know that lens existed even though I professed that I loved others equally. What I meant was, "I love those I walk with, even slightly to the left or to the right of me, but NOT those."  I can love those in the distance, but not those I can touch in my own town. I simply would never ordinarily be able to touch them because I would not come to them. Oh the shame of my heart when I could feel Jesus walk me there. When I could see the tears in HIS eyes for HIS creation. ALL OF HIS CREATION. How could I turn away? How could I stay? Shame and guilt and fear, pride and righteous indignation, yet grace and mercy and love walked hand in hand and yet how could they? Jesus never left. He simply walked through the mess of the world with love and grace and I would never be the same. Not the one who professed it before, but the one who walked through and held it in my arms in the form of a baby, a creation of the CREATOR a toddler  whom Jesus called to Him, pre-teen he planned before the beginning of time, a parent as they wept and Jesus wept with them and caught their tears, a grandmother as she fought for dignity and control over the spiraling events that led everyone to this place, the grandmother whom he formed in the womb.  The father who fought to find a way back for his family, a man God formed in his own image.  A mother who didn't know another way, a woman God formed from man. How could I be the same?

He heals the broken-hearted and bandages their wounds. Psalm 147:3

     I want my old lens back. This one isn't comfortable. This one doesn't fit the predetermined life and faith I thought I had built on a solid foundation. One I took pride in. And therein the slope begins.  The fade starts to occur. The pottery tilts and the cracks begin to form. MY solid foundation, NOT HIS. I had missed the point. 

     How could I fight against class systems and yet so carefully build my own? How could so many opposites be true and yet the the opposites were my own? How could I be such a hypocrite when I cried against hypocrisy?

     Why did Jesus bring me to this place?  This place is rough and hard and treacherous.  It doesn't play well with others.  It just doesn't fit what I have made my world to be.  Oh the shame of my prideful, self-righteous heart.

     In trying to be so right and with good intentions, I lost my way on the potter's wheel, but Jesus never lost his.  His hands remain firm around me molding me, reshaping me.  He never walks away.  Not from me.  Not from anything or anyone he has created.  Not the self righteous, not from the abuser. He holds us all.

Foster care destroyed a part of me that God saw fit to prune. To mold.  To reshape.

Every branch in me that does not bear fruit, He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit. You are already clean because of the word which I have spoken to you. Abide in Me and I in you. As the Branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, no neither can you unless you abide in me.  I am the vine and you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit for apart from me you can do nothing.  If anyone does not abide in me, he is thrown away as a branch and dries up; and they gather them, and case them into the fire and they are burned. John 15:2-6Foster care destroyed me and it was the best thing that could have happened. May I always be a willing vessel in HIS hands. 

The Nest...

....and another one leaves the nest.  I know we prepare for this day.  We teach, instruct, guide, pray, love and prepare and then you blink and they go from diapers to college. How does it go so fast?  Why?  I know this is what we prepare them for and dream of for them, but man....that doesn't make it any easier.  Even when you feel totally confident that they will soar, you still feel like there's something you didn't teach, something you parented wrong and most certainly did, something else that needs to be done and yet you look up and they are soaring and you have nothing left to do, but stand back and watch.  Yes, there are still lessons, but it's different now.  The security of the nest is no longer there.

This isn't my first rodeo.  I have a Senior in college as well and can tell you that every time he comes home I feel that sinking feeling deep in my heart that longs for him to return and hug me around my knees and reach his little hand up to grab mine to walk across the street.  I still picture that picture in my mind of the time his Pinewood Derby car didn't win when he was about 5.  He ran to me and buried his head in my chest and sobbed.  He was crushed.  Utterly crushed and I would have done anything at that moment to grab that first prize trophy and hand it to him, but I couldn't.  This was a disappointment he would have to weather and there would be more.  Bigger ones along the way.  It didn't stop my heart from aching for him and his heartache.

There is no girlfriend in the picture at this time, BUT I know the clock is ticking and one day in the near future, more than likely I will hand him to another woman.  Hand my first born son to another woman for her to take care of him.  How am I supposed to do that?  I longed for his arrival.  I ate the right things, did the right things, read all the books, prayed, cried and prepared for him.  I spent what seems like a lifetime raising him, loving him.  How can I let go?

Now my next child is off for her first year in college.  She is nervous and excited all in one.  How can I tell her how fast this will all go?  How can I explain that the memories she makes in the next few years will stay with her forever and she will cherish so many of them and cherish so many of those friends?  How can I explain that the decisions she makes can be life altering?  Life defining. They can change the course of the rest of her life.  How do I keep in contact and yet not smother?  How can I support and not be a pest? How do I let her fly when I want her to have a fountain of hair on top of her hair and be running through the backyard barefoot eating cherry tomatoes from our plants.

God is good all the time.  God has laid these plans before time began. I will walk the path before me.

Therapeutic Parenting and other Reality Checks

Today is a day.  Today is hard.  Today is frustrating and yet I am asked to walk this road not only in my own life, but in the lives of others I work with through my support groups as well as my job.  Not all days are like this.  Most are wonderful and filled with victories and laughter.

I know so many answers.  Real answers to problems and yet those answers are not quick fixes and certainly NOT always the right answer.  I lack answers as well.  I lack more than I know, actually.  I know we all want a quick fix and of that I am certain. We all want things done now.  We all want more time for ourselves and certainly more quality time, but reality won't dictate that for us with kids from trauma. 

Food:  It's a big deal.  It fuels the brain and we are using this as a quick fix and taking to the junk the world says is good.  Processed foods and sugar is a mainstay and the brain is rebelling in a huge way.  It is causing true brain damage and Dr. Caroline Leaf will show plenty of research to back that.  Think and East Yourself Smart.  There is so much more I could say here as I am struggling to come to terms with this myself, but I'll leave this right here for you to determine in your own world.

Screens:  Hey, aren't we helping our kids be current and a step ahead, preparing them for the future? No, we are setting them up for the need for instant gratification and hits of adrenaline with games and social media.  Boredom is not a bad thing.  It fosters true creativity and our kids on screens lack this. Need I say more?  Nope.  I am working and struggling with this too.

Connection:  Why, we have Facebook?  We are SOOOO connected to people.  False.  We are distantly connected if you can even call it that.  We have no human interaction and lack the skills to actually have a conversation.  Do you ever see how frustrated your kids get when you interrupt them, but you are merely interjecting into a conversation?  Oh wait, maybe that is just me. They don't know HOW to HAVE a conversation because Facebook, Instagram and Snap Chat, etc. allow them to have the entire say in everything. There is no back and forth. Only soapboxes like the one I'm on right now.

Families are falling apart.  Children are seeking true face to face, "Hey, watch me." interaction and we are too busy to give it and they cannot form healthy attachments this way.  We run to therapists, and psychologists and psychiatrists.  We ask for Day Treatment and Residential Treatment Facilities that further block connection.  Just fix it all for us. NOW!

We want our kids to behave.  To mind us.  To make us look good, but sometimes they don't.  Why?  Because they are not transitioned well, they don't have enough quality sleep, they do not have even blood sugar levels or near enough water (not things WITH water).  They are over stimulated. They are running to so many practices and events and all for their own good, we tell ourselves.  These "things" develop them socially and physically and tire them out, but they also break connection with you.  It's too much.  Way too much.  You are trying. Really you are, but you are missing the mark.  WE ARE MISSING THE MARK.  I AM MISSING THE MARK. We all are and for each family it is different.

Children need the quiet.  They need the silly play.  They need loud, raucous play too. They need YOU.  They need to sit at the table with you for dinner modeling eating slowly and enjoying each other's company.  They need to learn the art of conversation and that sometimes we don't all get to say the things we want to.  They need to learn to be patient and wait for others and pass the peas.  They need to learn to put away their dishes and help their siblings and you and be proud of a job well done.  They need to hear you ask them about their day. Really ask for details.  What about their friends?  How did they handle conflict? Conflict is life.  It is best we facilitate our children working through this now, lest they become entitled, angry adults who can't resolve a conflict.

What are YOU willing to do to help them heal?  Turn your life upside down?  Give up nights with friends?  REALLY put your phone down.  Take screens away to another room for an extended time?  Play outside together?  Take a walk?  Are you willing to give up soccer? Skip homework every now and then when frustration is too much? Not many are.  I struggle.  Defining what this looks like for ME, for MY family is hard.  My brain gets tired trying to think outside the box I neatly created and packed.

For those not willing to go the extra mile or for crying out loud the extra marathon, I'll be standing in court with you when you tell the judge you want to turn your child over to the state because you can't keep everyone safe from him/her.  It will be hard.  In some cases there is no other way.  I KNOW, I've stood with those, but those are few and far between. In fact only one in my three years of post adopt, if I'm honest. That particular family was not given near the information they needed and in fact was misled in major ways throughout the entire process with documents destroyed. Most are there standing in court because they weren't willing to change their lifestyle.  They are good parents. Some are amazing, but they weren't willing to lose friends, "me-time" or lose their reputation to save a child. These children didn't come at age 10 with long histories, and yet some did.  Many came from the hospital, a warm bundle of joy that suffered more trauma in-utero than you can imagine and the brain was always set to an off beat rhythm.  They needed therapeutic parenting, but we weren't willing to believe it because they came straight to our loving arms, with a warm bed, a bottle every time they cried.  Vacations to the beach in the summer and the best schools.  They took violin lessons and soccer.  They were on the Math/Science Team.  A Honor roll and then something flipped.  Something went very wrong and a rage escaped our of seemingly no where.  What went wrong?  So much. So, so much, and the signs were there, but we pushed them under the rug.  He's going through the terrible twos.  She has ADHD.  He has sensory issues.  ALL of those are TRUE in most cases, but they are wrapped up in trauma, not just the simple diagnosis.  It is never that simply.  Oh, if only it were.

My heart is heavy in these battles.  It's heavy for myself and the life we now lead that is so very different than we ever imagined and yet so fulfilled. How can these stories exist together?  How can they not? We get to see true miracles occur every day if we only watch for them.  Really watch.  It's so hard, but so worth it.  Step back from your world right now and take a good look.  Where do you want to be in 5 years will be determined today and tomorrow.

This is a reminder to myself. This is a struggle in my own life.  I know lots of things and yet I know nothing.  I am a cracked vessel with so much to learn.  Let's do this together.  Let's walk this out together.  We need each other more than either of us know.

A Day in the Life (or a few days) of a Foster Mom

     It starts out as a normal day, Kids drag out of bed not wanting to wake up to go to school.  One refuses to wear her tennis shoes, another leaves his lunch at home and one whines about not getting any money to buy pencils.  Mom needs to head to the grocery store, the bank and pharmacy.  The laundry is backed up for the 4 kids at home and the floors have not seen a mop in a while.  After appointments are scheduled for 3 dentist appointments and one routine check up, a hair appointment for mom gets thrown in and a miracle occurs and she has an opening tomorrow.  What a joy. Those roots are now going to get attended to.

     It's now 11:00 AM and mopping has begun when the phone rings.  It's the foster agency wanting to know if foster mom is willing to take a 3 year old boy.  The story is neglect and drug exposure. He was found at home for 3 hours with no supervision. CPS had been called out last week when the neighbors said he was wandering down the street.  By the time they arrived he was back home.  They didn't make a case that time.  Now, today, there is a case.

     Sure, foster mom will accept.  She races out the door to complete the errands that were previously ignored.  First stop is Target for a carseat that is on sale, then on to WalMart for clothes, essentials for new foster placement #1 and the ignored groceries.  Mom picks up 7 outfits, diapers, socks, shoes in several 3 year old sizes, various expensive toddler snacks for a child that probably has been fed junk food his entire life.  She then heads to the grocery section for everything else when her cell phone rings and it's the school calling to say that she is needed at the school to pick up bio child #3 who is throwing up.  Foster mom hurries through the check out line and forgets the needed groceries.  She consoles herself that she at least has snacks for their new little man.  After picking up #3 son whom mom is sure is faking it, she races home to be there in time for foster placement #1.

      After 2 hours pulling out the toddler bed and setting it up with freshly washed sheets, teddy bear and toys she purchased at Walmart,  doing more laundry and cleaning in preparation, the clock ticks on and he doesn't arrive. It's now 3:00 and foster mom calls the agency to check on him as she prepares for kids to arrive on 2 different buses.  No word. Another hour passes and the agency calls back to say he's not coming.  So much for the day.  It went another direction and now dinner is not prepped and most of the chores aren't done.  She puts up the bed and gathers the toys to prepare to return them.   She spent close to $300 including the carseat that she got on sale.  The last toddler carseat disappeared with the caseworker when she came to return the child to her parents.  The caseworker forgot to bring one, but promised to bring mom's back and has yet to show up.  Foster mom is looking frantically for the receipt and now she can't find it to return it. $120 down the drain because Target won't take it without a receipt without charging you a fee.  It's not worth the drive and money lost.

     Foster mom picks up fast food, but is careful to use the dollar menu because that $300 she spent was putting the budget on a strain.  Tomorrow will need to include returning the items to keep them from overdrawing.  Homework is attended to, baths are done and kids are tucked in bed.  Not as simply as typed, but alas they are asleep. 2 hours of rocking, crying, getting extra hugs, water, the right blanket and then a different blanket, they are asleep, for now. Foster mom is worn out.  The adrenaline rush in preparing for a new placement has drained her.  She can't sleep now even though she's tired.  She does more laundry, works on a training she is helping with for her agency and finishes her bible study.  She updates addresses for the upcoming Christmas season list of cards, if photos ever get taken. At midnight she turns in to dad snoring.  At 2:00 am the phone rings.  She barely picks up before it hangs up and they call back again.  It's their foster agency asking if they will  accept placement of a newborn baby girl?  Um......Yes.  Thinking since it's a newborn this will be later in the day when released from the hospital, but no, actually the baby is being released right now for some strange reason.

      In. the. middle. of. the. night.

     Foster mom wakes foster dad and he agrees to the placement rolling over to catch some sleep before heading to work.  Foster mom gets up, goes to the shed to get the baby bed and sheets.  She puts together that crazy bed and starts the sheets washing and gets out the bassinet to use for the night.  2 hours later at 4:00 am the #2 foster placement newborn arrives in a tizzy.  She is screaming louder than any newborn, her face is red and she is stiff and angry.  The caseworker hands her off in nothing more than a full diaper and hospital blanket with an already made bottle and nothing more.  No diapers, no formula, nothing. Mom is floored as she sits in the rocker trying to soothe the screaming child.

     She. will. not. calm.

     She is obviously withdrawing.  Mom has no choice, but to go to Walmart IN the middle of the night WITH the child.  Her husband has a huge presentation in the morning and needs to sleep.  The kids will be up soon and this baby has no clothes, no formula and no diapers. Praise the Lord, foster mom has an infant carseat stashed away.  Off she goes with a near naked newborn baby wrapped in a blanket and a diaper.  Walmart is not impressed as foster mom arrives with the screaming infant.  She can be heard throughout the entire store.  Stares come from every corner of the store as foster mom makes her way through the isles.  The returns that were purchased for the 3 year old male were long forgotten. Sleepers, 2 piece outfits, socks, hats, blankets, pacifiers, bottles, baby shampoo, infant tylenol, rattles, swaddlers, formula, diapers, diaper rash ointment.  Snack foods for foster mom this time are purchased.  $280 later mom is out the door exhausted from juggling a screaming baby while trying to figure out what was needed.  Home again just as kids wake up excited as they realize that a new little one has arrived. The bank account will no doubt over draw, but she'll figure that out tomorrow.

    The morning does not go well.  Kids are too excited and the baby is still screaming.  Foster mom is stressed and tired and dad needs to get out the door along with everyone else.  Several hours later both foster mom and the baby fall asleep for 20 minutes before the phone rings and it's the agency again.  A 13 month old sibling was found and would she take placement?  Foster mom stares at the phone.  What is she supposed to do? How can she say, "yes" and how can she say, "no". The answer is,  "Yes".  Now foster mom is in a pickle.  No time, baby is awake and screaming again.  Hopefully the new carseat will work, but the clothes will not.  This is another girl.  Mom finds 3 outfits from a previous placement that are 18 month and summer, but maybe just maybe they will work to get by with.  Placement #3 arrives.  Crying.  And weighs about 15 lbs.  Those clothes are not remotely going to fit. Mom calls a friend and asks if she could run to the store for mom.  Desperate times call for desperate measures. The friend is in a hurry to get to bible study, but might be able to stop by afterwards if foster mom could run the money to her at the church.  Bible study mom's budget is tight this month and she doesn't have anything extra.  Oh wait, bible study mom has lunch afterwards with some of the ladies. Today is not a good day, but she'll check in on foster mom later. Foster mom checks with another friend who will swing by tonight to drop some things by. Neither swing by and neither call.  Foster mom feels the weight of rejection more than she can voice and more than she will ever show because as has been said before, "Well, YOU signed up for THIS." Both children cry all day as foster mom makes doctor appointments for both.  When was that hair appointment again?

     Foster mom checks her bank account and sees they are indeed overdrawn.  Foster parents get a stipend to cover basic expenses, but it takes 6 weeks to process.  The county doesn't have a clothing allowance currently so everything is just out of pocket for now.  Foster mom gathers both kids, the returns and heads to Walmart again to try to cover her expenses and keep her account from over-drafting any further.

     Fast forward. 2 days later, 2 doc appointments.  4 fast food meals costing more than the budget needs.  4 days later one of the friends call to check in.  She is off the phone in a short time with things to do.  Neither kids have slept consistently since arriving.  Bio #2 has a school program.  Foster mom can't go because foster dad has a night commitment and the kids would never be able to handle it.  Bio #2 cries. At the 2 week mark, the judge sends the kids back home.  No drug test was done to check on the baby who was obviously withdrawing from something. The bruises on the 13 month old are fading and no one asks what the doctor said about them.  Foster mom sends ALL of the clothes, ALL of the formula (she never did make it to WIC.  There was NO time).  The total expenses came to about $700 counting carseats, sitters when taking the foster children to the doc as well as fast food that wasn't factored in the budget.  The caseworker needs one of the carseats, OF COURSE.  We all know where this is going. It won't return and in fact in doesn't, yet again.  It will still be 4 more weeks before the stipend comes and it won't come close to the money already spent.  Foster mom is willing to sacrifice. She's tired and crazy in love with those girls, but will get a good night's sleep tonight unless the phone rings for another precious one and guess what foster mom will say?

"Yes".

    What could you do to help?  Donate clothes and other items to Legacy Closet here locally. Yes, most of our clothes are used.  For families struggling to just get to all of the appointments they are thrilled for used clothing to help buy them the time to go shopping when the schedule is a little less frantic.  Foster parents can call us to get all of the needed items to help the budget and time.  Many times we will deliver them if able.  Make a meal or 2 or 3 for a foster home who gets a new placement. It's never an easy adjustment.  Ever.  Offer to run errands for a foster mom.  Offer to get licensed to babysit.  Offer to come and rock a baby while foster mom sleeps or does laundry.

     Foster parents do this willingly.  Foster parents do it over and over again because we FEEL the need to hold the harmed. We fall in love with every single child and mourn the loss more than you will ever know. We do it because we are afraid that if we don't no one else will.  We do it because we can't stand to hear of a child staying in a shelter without a mom to rock or hold them.  We do it because someone needs to wipe the tears, hold the hands and help the confused, grieving ones.  We do it because sometimes Jesus whispers, "I need you to take the risk. I need you to step out of your comfortable life and love the least of these."