Category: foster care

National Adoption Month 2012

November is National Adoption Month here in the U.S.  Local, state, and federal government offices, organizations and churches devote their efforts during the month of November to focus on the awareness, education, and advocacy for adoption.  While the emphasis of this month tends to be more focused on foster care adoption, ALL forms of adoption are recognized as being equally important in the lives of so many families and children.

My desire this month is to write a post each day regarding adoption.  I am hoping to share some personal stories of non-bloggers who have adopted or are adoptees. My goal is to share links to websites, post quotes about adoption, and share Scripture verses that relay the tenderness that our Heavenly Father has for children.

For starters though, please click on this link National Adoption Month 2012.  This is the US government’s website regarding child welfare and adoption.  It has some very good information and links to various websites.  Thanks for reading and here’s to hoping that the month of November will stir the hearts of many to consider adoption. Children deserve permanency in their lives.  After working in child welfare for so long, I have learned that once families open their hearts and homes to a children, they have opened up a new world of fresh beginnings, safety, stability, and that crucial feeling of belonging to a family.

Blessings!

Just a Bag of Clothes

It had been a long day for my husband after waking up at the crack of dawn and driving several hours to see a child on his caseload who is in a residential type of setting.  My husband came into the kitchen after getting home and I could tell by his expression that something was amiss.  He was sad and the look on his face told me that his heart was heavy.

“I went to see “Billy” (not the actual name of child) today.  I took him a bag of clothing.  You should have seen the look on his face.  It was just a bag of clothes and they really weren’t that great.  He was so happy to get it.”  My husband was trying to cover his emotion while telling me this story.  I told my husband that it sounded like he was happy to get them and it was a good thing to do.  My husband then went on to say, “I know, but “Billy” doesn’t have a family.  He doesn’t have a home to live in.  He doesn’t have anyone, but he was thrilled to get a bag of clothing.  He has nobody.”

Sadly, this story is true.  My husband is a case manager working with abused and neglected children that have been brought into the foster care system.  “Billy” is one of those kids who disrupted out of his potential adoptive home due to behavioral issues and is now living in a residential setting.  This child has lost his birth family due to abuse and his sibling is getting adopted by his foster family soon.  “Billy” truly does not have anyone except for my husband.  Despite continuing efforts to help him control his behaviors and to find a permanent home for him, it is quite possible that he will grow up in the foster care system.

My husband hit a wall that day after work.  I have seen it time and time again with case managers.  I too have hit that wall.  The wall I am referring to is the moment when the harsh reality of the work at hand slaps one in the face.  It is easy for all of us working in the field of child welfare to get caught up in the paperwork (trust me there is a  TON of it) and the tasks at hand.  It is challenging when one feels torn between what the federal and state laws require and the gut feeling about what truly may be best for a child.  The job requires one to work with people who are broken or, at least, have broken hearts.  I do not know of a single person involved in child welfare who has not been changed by his or her experience.

The stories of kids like “Billy” are ones that often go unheard or unknown except for those working closely with them.  In my experience, these children are usually quite grateful for clothing and other basic necessities.  I have seen Christmas wish lists from foster children that have a few toys, but mostly have items such as jeans, socks, coats, and hygiene products.  They actually have to be encouraged to ask for things other than the basic needs.

For my husband that day, the act of taking a bag of clothing to a foster child as part of his duty became so much more.  It served as a reminder that there is much work to do in serving children.  It served as a reminder that there are too many children like “Billy” living in our country who literally have no one to call mom and dad.

It also served as a reminder that many of us have been blessed with the gift of stability, protection, love, and a family.  My hope is that this post stirs something in your heart.  My hope is that you will look up organizations in your community that work with foster children and explore how you can get involved.  You never know how the simple of act of taking a bag of clothes to a child in the system could make an impression on that child’s heart.

Enough to make a difference

I asked God, “How much time do I have before I die?”
He replied, “Enough to make a difference.”
— Unknown

Call me strange, but I enjoy browsing through quotes on various topics of interest.  I love it when a quote catches my eye and causes that silent but golden “aha” moment.  The quote above is one of them.  I have often wondered “Am I really making a difference in this world?”  “Do my actions, whether part of my job or not, really help to create something new and hopeful for someone else?”

Through my years working in social services, I have heard many social workers say the same thing when questioning if their footprints (I’m not talking carbon footprints) on this Earth are making positive differences in the lives of others.  Social work is incredibly draining.  It is both a blessing and a burden.  Those of us in the child welfare field go to work knowing full well that our “job demand” really does exist because families are in crisis, children are being hurt, and lives are in chaos.

I have heard that once child welfare (whether as a foster parent, juvenile officer, or case manager) “gets in your blood”, it is hard to get it out.  I believe that.  I suspect that even those who have left the field continue to think about the children they worked with who may now be young adults trying to make it in the world.  Often, I think about the children I have worked with over the years.  I wonder how they are.  I wonder if they ever got what they were looking for…although so many did not even know what that was.  Did I really make a difference in their lives?

I like the quote above because it reminds me that each day is a new opportunity to make a difference in the world.  It reminds me of the absolute responsibility and beauty of life itself.  The joy of living is also tied into the duty of sharing that joy with others.  The grace of waking up each day feeling safe and loved is a gift that deserves to be shared with others and is just enough to make a difference.

Grace is a Gift

Lost Hill Park

Yesterday, we took the kids out to local park to take some pictures.  I planned their outfits, made sure their faces were clean, and properly instructed them to not wipe anything (crumbs from their snack) on their shirts.  I am not a “photographer” at all, however, have a decent camera and every once in a while, I get lucky and capture a fantastic moment!

As we were walking along the trail and stopping to snap off some pictures, I tried to instruct them to look at me more often, not walk into the tall weeds, or stay on the trail, etc….but I do not think they were paying too much attention.  Their agenda was to have a good time while mine was to get some good photos of them.

We came across a partially dried up creek bed where we stopped to let the kids throw rocks in the water.  I said to them “Do not get in the water. If you step in the water you will fall.”  I took a quick picture of them and was preparing to take some more when my daughter took one step onto the slimy rock and down she goes.

right before the fall

Being the drama queen that she is, she screamed at the top of her lungs while partially soaked in water with the slime of algae on her.  The people walking on the trail were staring at us.  My son just continued to throw rocks into the water as if nothing happened.  My husband was laughing, although he was trying to hide it from me.  I quickly pulled my camera up, took a deep breath, and said “I told you that if you stepped in the water, you will fall down. We have to leave now.”  To be honest, I was fuming inside and did not see any of the humor my husband found in it!

This morning while thinking about our day yesterday, the Lord impressed this upon me.  “Caroline, how many times have I told you to step back from the edge?  How many times have you fallen, and stood up soaking with the slime of sin?” 

Wow – our Lord never fails to turn life into a lesson.  

He is the best example I have of being a parent who finds joy with my children even when things don’t go “my” way.  He is the forgiving parent who does not pack up and walk away.  He is the gracious parent who still wants to capture my moments of beauty despite the fact that I just wallowed in the mud.

Thank you, Lord, for reminding me that grace is truly one of the most important gifts a parent gives a child.

Adoptive Parenting & the Unknowns

This past weekend I was taken by surprise when an X-ray completed on my son that was intended to evaluate whether or not he had pneumonia revealed something else.  The doctor walked into the room and asked if I have ever had any concerns about his heart.  As the conversation developed, I began to realize that I know virtually nothing about his genetic medical history.  I stood there and felt a little panicked at all that I do not know.

These four words, “I DO NOT KNOW”, are words that I have had to say to medical professionals about both of my children through the years.  I get angry when I do not have the answers or clues needed that could assist in seeking results or directing the path that doctors need to take.  I know though that even parents who are raising biological children do not always have the answers needed when discussing medical history, and that medical conditions are not always related to genetic history.  I mean, look what happened at me!

As an adoptive parent though, I feel very helpless when standing in front of medical staff with barely anything to add.  My thoughts go from frustration, to anger, and then to guilt.  I feel frustrated for not being able to help.  I get angry at realizing that poor choices by my children’s birth mothers could lead to health problems for my children.  I also get angry knowing that it is almost nearly impossible for people who have been adopted to find out their medical histories.  Often, they have to get attorneys to subpoena the courts to open the record.  It is not an easy process at all.  I understand protecting the birth family’s and adoptive family’s right to privacy, but when it comes to medical history, adoptees should have the right to know as much as they can.

The guilt sometimes comes from not finding out as much as possible before the adoptions were finalized, or for not pushing for answers from case workers and biological family members if possible.  I do not blame the case workers at all (I was once one and my husband is currently one).  I just wish getting the information would have been easier.  I know that I asked as many questions as possible about their genetic medical history.  It seems though that each time something comes up and I do not have an answer for, I feel guilty.  Looking back, I wish I would have listed out every disease process and used a yes/no system to ask questions about genetic history.

I was talking to another adoptive parent the other day about these issues and we both agreed that it is different from raising biological children.  Let me clearly state though that It is NOT different in the love, effort, and energy poured out when parenting.  It is NOT different in the genuine sense of knowing our children are “ours”.  But, there are different issues that adoptive parents face.  My friend who adopted privately has had to face similar issues.  Her son is now an adolescent so she was able to share with me how she has faced some of the unknowns and questions her son has had through the years.

There are many unknowns in adoptive parenting.  I do not know if any other significant medical problems will develop as they age.  I do not know what my children will think or feel about being adopted as they grow up.  I do not know my children’s biological grandparents’ names, histories, or any other valuable information that could be passed on.  I have very, very few pictures of their birth mothers and fathers.  I do not know if they will look for their birth parents (although I am open to assisting them with this).  I do not know if they will get angry for not having more open contact through the years.

My son is okay.  It was just an incidental finding related to respiratory issues.  His heart is healthy and he is going to be fine.  I can relax now.  I can stop stewing over the conversations about health issues that I should have had with his case worker and birth mother.  I have come to realize that adoptive parenting is an incredibly complex; yet, amazing experience.  I am also realizing that I must walk in faith when it comes to navigating the unknowns.

If you are an adoptive parent (especially out of foster care), do you have any nuggets of wisdom you have gleaned through the years that you would like to share?  If so, please comment as I am always seeking out ways to understand the complexity of adoptive parenting.

Messages of Tears

“There is a sacredness in tears.  They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.  They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.  They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love.”                              -Washington Irving

Gosh, I love this quote.  I L.O.V.E. it.  Each time my eyes skim over it and I soak it in, it  causes me to stop whatever I am doing.  I think about the tears shed worldwide on a daily basis.  I think about the tears that have been poured out of the deepest sorrow and joy throughout generations upon generations of humans.

I think about myself curling up in a fetal position sobbing from every pore of my being while mourning the loss of not being able to have a biological child.  I truly mourned this.  Those tears held within them my secrets, my grief, and my pain.  Those tears shed were not in vain.  I earned each one.  I deserved to let go of each one.  Those tears were for the girl I once was, and the mother I thought I would never be.

I also think about the tears of joy that have navigated their way down the landscape of my face. They too spoke volumes of resilience, thankfulness, and complete understanding.  Those tears released the power of love held within.  They too held their place of importance in the history of my life.  They too were for the little girl I once was, and the mother I was discovering myself to be.

I remember hearing the “sniffles” behind me at our adoption hearings.  I quickly looked around and saw family, friends, and even some child welfare professionals with tears rolling down their cheeks.  Each tear was a message of hope and hard work.  Each one represented the efforts made to keep my children safe, to help their birth parents, and to give them the permanent family they deserved.  The Judge stopped the court proceedings during my son’s adoption and gave me a moment to gather my tears back up.  He told me that he had seen many tears of sadness throughout his court room experience, and it was good to see tears of joy.

On a vastly more important level…the most important of all, I think about the tears that flowed down the faces of those who witnessed the crucifixion and death of Christ.  I think about those who must have had tears of awe-filled joy at realizing His resurrection.  The message of unspeakable love, unselfish love, and saving love that those tears gave is still heard and felt today.  At times, I am caught off guard during worship at church.  I find myself singing a song, staring at the Cross, and wiping away the droplets that resemble the overwhelming magnitude of my Savior’s grace and love for me.

I think I love this quote so much because it reminds me of the purpose and the purity behind each tear that falls from our eyes.  The voice held within our tears speaks so much more compared to the words that may or may not leave our mouths.  There is a sacredness there, and it should never be underestimated.

Don’t hold your tears hostage.  Don’t stifle their meaning.  Your tears may be speaking for you.  Allow them to.  Your tears may be speaking to you.  Listen to them.

Around the Fire

Last night we had the privilege of spending the evening around a bonfire in the country.  Hot dogs, roasted marshmallows, the sound of crackling wood, a gorgeous full moon, the chatter of folks, and gleeful screams of children playing in the field next to us made up our evening.  Fires are so good at catching one’s eye.  I sat and stared for a long time at the majestic wisps of flames as they flickered their way up to the heavens.

With the scent of fall in the air and the comfort of a blanket over me, my thoughts immediately went to the reason why we were all out there under the stars.  Out of the eighteen or so children present last night, around thirteen of them were adopted out of foster care.  Let me say that again….13 out of 18 or so children present last night were adopted out of foster care.  Most of the children were siblings of some sort, but not all.  A handful of families adopted the siblings.  Honestly, it was kind of nice to be at an event where my children were not a minority.  Usually when we go to “get-togethers”, or anywhere in general, my kids are typically the only ones adopted; especially out of protective services.

There is something comforting when being around fellow parents who have experienced the journey of being a foster parent and adopting.  We are able to swap stories of our experiences and compare notes.  We can relate to the challenges sometimes experienced when raising children with histories of abuse, neglect, prenatal exposure, or separation from family of origin.  We can also talk about resources that may come in handy if future issues should arise.

Last night, I took a moment to look out in the field at the children playing.  The image of glow sticks in hands, glow-in-the-dark balloons bouncing up and down, and the sounds of laughing children running freely through the field filled my mind and my heart with gratefulness.  I thought about how their young lives were interrupted by the ways of the world and the poor choices of their  birth parents.  I thought about the losses every single one of them has endured already in life.  I thought about the adults around the fire who took them in.  I thought about the opportunities they have because of permanency in their lives.

I thought about how they get to have a childhood free of abuse.  I also thought about how lucky we are to be a part of this.  Adoption out of foster care is not a second best choice.  It is not reserved for only those who cannot afford private adoption.  It is not just for couples who are unable to have biological children.  It is a blessing to parent a child whose beginning to life automatically put him or her in the category of the “least of these”.

It is a blessing to meet other adults whose lives have also been impacted by the decision to become foster parents.  We are all connected in some way to each other by the children playing in the field.  We are all a part of something bigger, something more eternal, and something better planned for these children.

As I watched the fire burn and looked around, thankfulness filled my heart.  We were all brought together by the one true God who brings light into dark places, hope into hopeless situations, and love into the lives of all of us.

Radiant Possibility

Photo taken by Sarah Carter (http://sarahcarter.is/)

“Every child born into the world is a new thought of God; an ever-fresh and radiant possibility.”  

-Kate Douglas Wiggin 

This is the quote we used for our daughter’s adoption announcement back in 2010. We picked it because it reminded us that despite our daughter’s not-so-lucky start to life, and despite basically being abandoned; her life is one of hope and possibility.  She is a gift from the Lord, and He has wonderful things in store for her.

I wanted to share it to remind fellow parents, parents-to-be, or those struggling to become parents that we all have lives of radiant possibility.  Our children or future children also have the opportunities to live lives of radiance.  Despite what we are going through or have been through, we have the ability to live the kind of life that breathes love.

The Lord knew His plan for our daughter.  He scripted her tiny little life right into our home.  He knows His plan for us.  All of us were on His mind when He was on the cross, and we are on His mind today.

I hope this blesses you and lifts you up during your struggles.  I hope you see your life as being one with God-given radiance, hope, and possibility!

your words, His action

Have you ever been in a situation that you thought was somewhat insignificant, but ended up finding out that it was quite significant to someone else?  I have, and I would like to share it with you.

At the age of twenty, the doctor discovered a Dermoid cyst on my left ovary.  My left ovary had barely escaped the bacterial invasion that caused my hysterectomy at age eleven.  It was somewhat risky to leave the ovary in my body because of the rapid pace the bacterial infection was spreading, but the doctors decided it was worth the risk.

This ovary became the one thing in my mind that “kept” me female.  I know that is quite ridiculous now to say that, but I was so young when all of this nonsense happened.  Even at the age of twenty, I struggled with making sense of my “female-hood”.  By the time the cyst was found, it was too late.  My survivor ovary could not survive any longer.  The decision was made to remove it.

The surgery was scheduled to happen on my 20th birthday.  Yes,I lost an ovary on my 20th birthday!  Before I go any further though, I should explain that I am not exactly a great candidate for laparoscopic surgery.  Let’s just say that my insides are a little jumbled around and there is a tremendous amount of scar tissue.  All of my major surgeries have been done the “old-fashioned way”; meaning, cutting right down the middle of my abdomen.  This surgery to remove my ovary was not any different, so naturally there was a lot of prep work that had to occur before the surgery.

I was admitted to the hospital in the evening and stayed up most of the night before my surgery talking with my roommate.  She had her gall bladder removed and was in a great deal of pain.  I could not see her as the curtain was pulled the entire time.  We were both on pain medication, but talked about our medical histories and thoughts about life in general.  Of course, my medical history was a little more colorful than hers.  The next morning, she was gone before I got a chance to see her.

About three years later, when walking out of a college class with another student, the topic of my surgery came up.  I do not even know why the surgery came up, except maybe to explain my absence from classes.  Partly through my explanation of what all had happened, she stopped dead in her tracks, turned to face me, grabbed my arms, and said, “Caroline, You are the one.”

She went on to explain that her very good friend had her gall bladder removed and was feeling depressed and sorry for herself.  A young woman was admitted to the bed beside her.  Her friend shared that this young woman had been through so much and was still trying to be positive about health and life.  She never got the chance to see what this person looked like, but strongly felt the young lady was put in her room for a reason, and that reason was to help bring her out of the self-loathing slump she had been in.

That young woman was me.  I do not take credit for any of this.  I really do not even remember my exact words said to her or what all I may have shared.  Instead, I believe that the Lord placed me there at the right time and in the right circumstance to bring comfort to someone else.  The credit belongs to Him.

I decided to share this because of the potential impact all of us can make in the lives of others.  What may seem as insignificant events or simple conversations might just end up being exactly the things that someone needs to hear or witness.  We are all witnesses of a loving Heavenly Father.  He is able to use all of us to share hope, love, and our lives in a way that will glorify Him and help raise up humanity.

So, next time you think that conversation you had with the person standing behind you in the grocery line did not mean anything, think again.  You never know how the Lord will use your words to lay out His action to reach someone else.

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer. – Psalm 19:14