Ten Surprises from Six Months of Fostering

 

Our family is coming to the end of our first six months of fostering.  In public, you can see people trying to do the math – four kids age five and under and I am quite obviously pregnant.  What is their story?  The more I live our particular story, the more I realize that most people’s families don’t look the way they expected.  Like us, the families I see and wonder about probably came together as small “Okay, God.  We’ll say yes to this next step”, rather than having the whole picture ahead of time. 

 

Today, as I share the surprises from our initial experience as a foster family, it’s important to note that we are still very much in the thick of things.  I’m writing while I’m still running the marathon and things are honestly really tough right now.  Our two girls are transitioning back to living with their mom and it’s been complicated.  I’m at the end of my pregnancy and the stress of this brand of parenting is taking its toll on me physically. 

 

These are my reflections, not my expertise.  I pray that readers will take something that encourages or challenges your own faith journey and leave behind the parts that don’t resonate with you.  With that, here are Ten Surprises from Six Months of Fostering.

 

#1:  The Amazing Support I’ve Received

 

From the first sharing that we were welcoming two sisters, I’ve been surrounded by such tangible support.  People brought meals, helped me organize the house, and shared tips on large family management.  My exercise buddy met at a playground each week and co-parented, holding and squat-lifting whoever was having a meltdown, so I could keep working out.  I never considered that in choosing foster care, our parents -without being asked- became foster grandparents.  My mother-in-law lives close by and without complaint treated our girls like her own grandchildren.  We even went on vacation with her.  She was gracious about the chaos we brought to her usually serene week at the beach.  Recently, a friend has been loaning us a box of toys from her toy rotation so my kids have the novelty of different things to play with in the evenings when I’m trying to make dinner.  Most of all, countless people have supported me by listening.  I probably verbally process too much, but it really helps to have caring people listen.

 

#2:  The Discomfort of Opening Our Home to Ministry

 

A friend who also fosters warned me that the first month would be chaotic.  That was an understatement.  Our home life went from being patterned and predictable to absolutely out of control.  I could barely think straight with all the tantrums, crying and behavior issues during that rocky transition.  So, I hid.  A lot.  I’d say, “I’m going to the bathroom all by myself and no one needs to follow me!”  or “I feel overwhelmed and I need to cry in the garage!  I love you and will come back when I’m calm!”

 

In the past, when I’ve done things in service of others, I’d go, serve, and then come home to my refuge.  My things, my smells, my routines, just as I’d left them, waiting for me.  With foster care, you open your door and let the outside world come and impact your safe, familiar world.  The scrutiny of the licensing process should have been my first clue.  After our home and lives were analyzed inside and out, my 24/7 life became surrendered to caring for two new family members.  When someone is sick or crying in the middle of the night, you can’t say, “Oh, I’m not serving right now.  I need my sleep.”  I’ve had to redirect my need for refuge and find it internally, through prayer and trusting God’s presence.    

 

#3:  How Little I Know About Helping Kids in Trauma 

 

I don’t have a lot to say about this one, except I’ve wished I knew more about how to help kids in trauma.  Our little girls are very much like other kids in their need for guidance and love.  But they have also been deeply impacted by trauma and have reactions that take me by surprise.  Once, while Jeff was traveling, I took our boys and our older foster daughter to my parents’ house in Seattle for the week (our younger foster daughter stayed with their aunt and uncle).  The first night, our daughter couldn’t eat her dinner because she was crying uncontrollably.  It took about an hour to get her breathing normally.  She couldn’t communicate what was wrong.  In the morning, she gave me more insight when she asked, “Is this where I’m going to live now?  Will I get to see [little sister] again?”  From then on, we did a daily check-in.  “This is Grammy and Papa’s house.  We don’t live here.  We are visiting and will go back to Yakima on Sunday (count the days on our fingers) and see sister, and mom, and auntie, and uncle…”  Whenever life changes, each girl has her own way of dealing with it and we’ve had to learn how to help.

 

#4:  Being the Bad Guy 

Speaking of helping with changes, the next surprise is being the bad guy.  By this I mean, Jeff and I have to stay as consistent as possible in our boundaries and our love for the kids.  I used to teach fourth grade next door to the school’s classroom for kids with behavior needs.  I remember hearing that teacher tell a new student, “One thing you’ll love about me and hate about me is this:  I’m consistent.  I do what I say I’m going to do.  You can count on it.”  I keep thinking about that.  It really stinks to be the one who puts a child in time out for the tenth time that day – for the same misbehavior too.  It stinks to hold the kids to balanced eating, bedtime, respectful language, and cooperating with each other.  The girls like to remind me how things are different at their mom’s house, what she allows that I don’t.  It sometimes feels like she’s Disneyland and Jeff and I are boot camp.  It stinks, but it’s also okay.  We hope our consistency in discipline will serve as a safe boundary for the kids. 

 

We hope they equally feel the consistency of our love.  Recently, I picked the girls up from daycare and they had a discouraging behavior report for the third time that week.  One daughter had screamed for and hour and ran away from the teacher, while the other daughter smacked a toddler in the head with a toy.  I was frustrated.  I want a break from all these behavior issues.  Our five-year-old son piped up from the far back seat.  “Hey girls, you get love no matter what.  If you’re good or naughty, you still get love.  I’m sad though ‘cuz now you don’t get treats today and it would be cool if we could go to Dairy Queen.”  It was pretty incredible to hear what Jeff and I have been trying to communicate at least got through to one of the kids, and he was able to express it in his own words. 

 

#5:  This is a Family Ministry

 

Our sons have been such an important part of caring for the girls.  A while back, Jeff and I read a book about serving others as a “family on mission”.  We’ve been inspired to include our kids in service opportunities and make it a lifestyle.  Nothing has ever encompassed this ideal like foster care.  Before taking this path, we talked about it a lot with our boys.  Our younger son was still two at the time, so he didn’t have much to say.  Our older son, now five, has been especially amazing to watch.  He calls the girls his sisters and cares about them deeply.  He has insights beyond his years.  One day, he told me, “You know why I think [little sister] is so naughty all the time?  I think she’s mad that she can’t live with her mom but she doesn’t know how to tell us that.  So, she throws toys instead.”  Our three-year-old son has struggled more with sharing mom and dad with others, but he’s still growing through this and being a fantastic brother.

 

#6:  That My Marriage Could Grow Stronger Through the Pressure

 

I anticipated that foster care would create stress in our marriage.  I’m surprised that we are coming through this stronger than before.  Jeff has been an anchor of sorts.  I say “of sorts” because I want to forever refrain from putting my husband in God’s rightful place.  Jeff is human.  He is not my rock or my savior.  But God daily shows me His love through Jeff’s incredible hard work and giftedness as a father and husband.  We are in this craziness together.  This weekend, the girl’s visits with their mom were unexpectedly cancelled.  In addition, both girls came down with pink eye.  I tried to soothe the girls with a bath and realized we didn’t have hot water.  So, picture a tub of cold water, two naked girls (one crying and having a potty accident on the carpet), our son downstairs having a tantrum, and Jeff and I trying to talk over it all and figure out a doctor’s appointment plan.  This is the stuff that makes for learning efficient communication!  At the end of the day, I’m so incredibly grateful to fall asleep holding Jeff’s hand and praising God that our bond has remained through the day’s trials.

 

#7:  Connecting with a Greater Community

 

I’m surprised at how fostering has connected us to people we wouldn’t normally meet.  The girls came with a village.  I’m in contact with their aunt and uncle most weeks, their grandma has taken them for a weekend when I needed respite, and their daycare teachers are wonderful.  They have a social worker, a counselor, a guardian ad litum, and others looking out for their best interest.  I even thought that it would be hard to let strangers drive the girls to their visits, but the drivers aren’t strangers.  They are almost like extra aunts and uncles – the girls know them and look forward to seeing who’s going to pick them up.  “Is it Tracy or Javier?  I want to see Tracy!” 

 

#8:  Battling My Perceptions of Their Mom

 

A big part of the community connection is the birth mom.  While much of her life is kept private from me, we are still connected through her daughters.  I saw her once on a Zoom meeting and she looks exactly like her four-year-old daughter, in twenty-six-year-old woman form.  Seeing a reflection of the little face I tuck into bed each night softened my heart towards her.  I have been surprised by the struggle to believe the best of birth mom.   

 

Many times, it feels like she gets to flake out and change things that affect my life and I’m supposed to remain steady and available.  I get angry about potty training her little one, only to have her come home from a visit wearing a soggy diaper instead of dry undies.  When her daughters get upset with me being the bad guy and cry for their mom, I have to bite my tongue.  I want to say, “Well, she cancelled and I didn’t have a choice!”  When we were on vacation, we called birth mom three different times so she could stay in touch.  The girls were hyper and not focused on the call, so I ended up chatting some with birth mom to fill the gaps.  Like the Zoom meeting, it served to soften my heart for her as a fellow mom working through some life hurdles. 

 

The thing that is currently helping me when I feel like I’m done with this whole process is God’s reminder that I’m not doing this for birth mom.  I’m meant to serve Him.  Colossians 3:23-24 says, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward.  It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”  If I potty-train for birth mom, I’m going to ultimately be resentful.  If I potty-train as an expression of love for my Savior, I’m going to be at peace.  If I alter my weekend plans for birth mom, I’m going to grumble.  If I alter my weekend plans for God, I’m going to look for what He planned in the detour.

 

#9:  God Has Stretched Me to Fill Big Shoes

 

Back in February, this role felt like when I was little and clomped around the house in my mom’s shoulder padded dress and beige high heels.  It didn’t fit.  I wasn’t enough.  Every day, every week, every month, I’m glad I didn’t quit.  God has been stretching me to fill this multi-faceted job.  I’m proud that I can get four kids dressed, fed, wiped and out of the house by 8:30am with fewer tantrums than before.  I have moments where old Brooke wouldn’t recognize current Brooke’s skills.  It’s still incredibly tough, but God is supernaturally growing me through this experience.

 

#10:  It’s Okay for Multiple Feelings to Occupy the Same Space

 

If you’ve read this far, hooray!  You made it to number ten!  This is the most vulnerable surprise I have to share.  In choosing foster care, I heard numerous people comment, “I could never do that because it would be too hard to say goodbye.”  That comment has run through my head again and again, bringing a lot of shame.  I thought I would instantly feel like a mother to any foster child in my home.  That hasn’t been true for me this time.  I thought I would struggle with letting them go at the end.  That hasn’t been 100% true either.

 

Especially at the beginning, the girls felt foreign to me.  It was not the same as loving my biological kids.  I have loved the girls time and time again, as a surrender amidst a lack of oozy gushy feelings.  It’s hard to admit that.  There are times, like today, when the girls took turns playing with my hair, when things felt more natural and family-like.  It’s still been obvious that they are not really mine.  They adore their birth mom and miss her terribly.  It’s not my spot and I’ve never aspired to take her place. 

 

Fostering has required so much from our family and I’m very tired at this point.  I’m anticipating our newborn’s arrival next month and I’ve struggled with managing my stress during pregnancy.  My body is in pain and I’m tired.  Saying goodbye and letting the girls go home to their mom feels like relief right now.  It feels like I might have a little space to breathe before the new baby comes. 

 

Then, last weekend, I packed some of the girls’ clothes and toys to take to their mom’s house.  I was holding a little Frozen themed dress with a lump in my throat.  Unexpected mama bear protectiveness crept up on me.  I hope they’ll be okay.  I hope their mom is really recovered and ready to be there for them. 

 

I’ve decided it’s okay to feel multiple things at once.  Relief and grief can exist in the same space.  Love can look like taking them to a doctor’s appointment today and entrusting them to their mom tomorrow.  It’s okay that I can’t say yes indefinitely.  That aunt and uncle will step in if birth mom needs it from here so I can focus on having a healthy birth and newborn time.  It’s okay that all these things exist together. 

 

 

Our family will likely take a break from fostering for now.  It’s not a closed door, but something to prayerfully reconsider later.  I’m glad we did a season of it.  I don’t want to spend my whole life maintaining my precious comfort zone at all costs.  I can see God’s strength in the stretching parts and I now feel His grace in releasing us to rest again for a while.  It’s been hard and it’s been good.

 

 

Thoughts On Not Giving Up

 

 

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.  Galatians 6:9

 

Do you ever have a verse or a quote that mocks you?  For me, it’s Galatians 6:9.  A tough part of my personality is that I constantly see how I could improve.  My to do list, my vision board, my book pile – all littered with self improvement ideals.  It’s exhausting and I regularly feel like not doing all the good things I think I need to be doing. 

 

Yesterday, I very much felt like checking out.  No more disciplining kids who keep doing whatever they want to do, no more low-sugar meals, no more keeping the house clean or answering texts in a timely way.  Galatians 6:9 came to mind and I quickly rejected the thought.  ‘Don’t tell me what to do, Galatians.  I’m tired and I’m playing a mindless game on my phone.  I’m done.’

 

Today, my mother-in-law took the kids for the majority of the day.  I had space to think, to sit, to be in a rational headspace again.  At the end of my solitude time, I decided to dig into Galatians 6:9.  I don’t really think God put it in the Bible to shame me or make me mad.  There had to be something to glean with closer inspection.  Here are two thoughts from my time with this verse:

 

#1:  God Can Be My Coca-Cola Truck

 

I was inspired by the surrounding verses as well.  It seems so simple – invest in negative, selfish stuff, get negative, selfish stuff back.  Invest in Holy Spirit inspired, eternally significant stuff, get goodness and eternal life back.  But why can’t I do it consistently?  Why is it so hard for me to stay the course?

 

God reminded me of my recent trip to Seattle.  We (husband Jeff, two sons, and one foster daughter) and I drove over in the evening after Jeff’s work.  We dropped Jeff off at a hotel near the airport (he had a very early flight the next day) and I drove the kids north to my parents’ house.  It was very late, very dark, and very, very rainy.  Because of a corrective eye surgery I had years ago, driving at night is already difficult for me.  Headlights create a glare that makes it hard to see.  That night, this was compounded by the crazy heavy rain on the freeway.  I was panicking and trying to keep my cool with three still awake kids blissfully watching Shrek.   I started praying out loud.  My five year old, Luke, joined me.  “God please stop the rain so my mom can see.  Help her get to Grammy and Papa’s house.”

 

I made my way to the far right lane so I could go slower without bothering too many people.  That’s when God provided a Coca-Cola truck.  A big, beautiful Coca-Cola truck with four wonderfully visible red lights in a big square on the back.  It gave me something to follow that I could see. 

 

Through the glare and haze, I focused on that giant square of brake lights for the majority of the journey.  The truck eventually exited and I prayed again.  “God, what do I do now?”  That’s when the rain stopped.  Luke wasn’t surprised.  “I asked Him to stop it for you, Mom!”  We made safely to my parents’ house.

 

So, I didn’t need to BE any different to get to my destination.  My eyesight did not change.  Instead, I got a reliable focal point.

 

I often feel like giving up on the right things.  God does not.  He’s as steady as they come.  He sets the standard for perseverance, consistency, and goodness.  He can be my Coca-Cola truck.  He can be my reliable focal point to keep me going towards good things.  Just keep staying close - praying, meditating on Scripture, believing what He says.

 

#2:  When I’m Grateful, I Can Name My Harvest

 

I realized another reason why Galatians 6:9 seems so unattainable is I don’t have a good idea of what my harvest actually is.  It feels like parenting, health, doing things for others, etc. are never-ending pursuits that don’t have a clear reaping point.  After studying this afternoon, I still had lots of questions about that.  Clarity came after dinner when I saw our 2 and a half year old foster daughter cleaning up the wooden train set.

 

Since we’ve had her, we have struggled deeply with her behavior issues.  We can rarely leave her alone for even a minute without something naughty happening.  I looked at her smiling, getting along with Luke, and putting toys away without any issues.  I noted the significantly positive behavior change by pausing and thanking God.  I felt Him say, “This is a harvest.”

 

Wow.  Gratitude is a big emphasis in our home, but God showed me I can rename those moments as a harvest; a good fruit of the good seeds He’s helped us plant and tend.  How many times have we redirected naughty behavior?  So. Many. Times.  I want to give up because all I see is continued defiant behavior. 

 

Now, I have better strength to keep going because God helped me see and name the harvest.  The seeds mattered.  He made something good out of them. 

 

God, help me see the harvests in my life.  I know they are everywhere but I need help identifying how past not-giving-ups led to what I’m living now.  Help me focus on you and keep going when I don’t feel like I can.  Please transform Galatians 6:9 from a reminder that I can’t to a reminder that You can.  Amen.

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File This Under "I Don't Know"

If I were to organize foster parenting in the file cabinet of my life, I’d put it in a file called “I Don’t Know.”  Again and again, that’s my answer.

“How long will the girls be with you?”  I don’t know.

“What’s happening with their mom?”  I don’t know.

“Can they visit their mom while she’s getting better?”  I don’t know.

“Will you have them when your new baby comes?”  I don’t know.

“How will you be able to handle so many kids?”  I don’t know.

 

The list could go on and on.  Almost every day, our two and a half year old, Abby, asks, “Do we have a visit?” and “Who’s going to pick us up?”   I don’t know  and  I don’t know.

 

One day, I thought for sure their mom’s visit was happening.  I even woke the girls up from their nap, tidied their hair, and had them waiting by the window.  A rookie mistake on my part.  The visit had been cancelled and they’d forgotten to tell me.  I texted the driver ten minutes after the scheduled time and found out the visit wasn’t happening.

 

Yesterday, the social worker came for her monthly check in.  There are some new developments that made me think I’d finally have some framework or timeline of expectations.  Like, if A happens, then B will happen for sure.  I’m not a social worker, but I don’t think they ever get to use the phrase “for sure.”  Is that comment too snarky?  Later, when telling my husband Jeff the updates, I said, “So, basically, this could happen, or this, or that, and at any point, their mom’s positive progress could trump the whole process and we start all over.”  Something major could happen in three months, six months, or some indefinite period.  Any of the options mentioned are equally possible in this fruit salad of pivotal life-altering scenarios.

 

I’m learning that living deeply in I Don’t Know Land makes me super uncomfortable.  Drives me crazy, actually.  After the social worker left, I really wanted to go for a walk by myself and process all the unknowns.  Having four little kids and being one hour away from Jeff getting home, that wasn’t going to happen.  I put the girls in the bathtub and the boys in front of a TV show.  Looking at the girls playing in the bath, it wasn’t lost on me that these unknowns are more about them than about me.  I sat on the little kid step stool by the sink and started to cry.  They stopped their washcloth hide and seek game to stare at me.

 

“I’m having a lot of feelings and I’m not sure what to do with them.  It helps to cry a little,” I said.

 

They went back to shrieking and splashing.

 

I texted a friend and told her I was struggling.  She didn’t need to do anything, but it helps me to not feel isolated in my tough spots.  She called moments later.  The conversation was brief, as we both have little ones to care for, but her compassion lifted some of my burden.

 

Still on lifeguard duty with the girls, I settled back on the little stool and Googled “Bible verses about uncertainty” on my phone.

 

Even though I need God more than ever, my time with the Bible has been sparse these past few months.  I don’t know why, but I’ve been hesitant to lean on God as much as I need to.  I’ve been in the mode of just keeping my head down and getting done what needs to get done.

 

Of all the verses on the list I found, Psalm 121:3-8 (ESV) hit me where my heart needed it.  I was feeling really insecure and these verses filled me with security.  Not because I suddenly know what my next six months will look like or whether the girls’ mom will get healthy again or not, but because my security wasn’t coming from knowing those answers. 

 

He will not let your foot be moved;
    he who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, he who keeps Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper;
    the Lord is your shade on your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all evil;
    he will keep your life.
The Lord will keep
    your going out and your coming in
    from this time forth and forevermore.

 

This is not a new lesson for me.  Of course my security doesn’t come from my circumstances.  But dang, do I fluctuate on this one and need reminders to get back to solid footing.  How can I live this for the girls in whatever time they have with us?  How can my daily “I don’t know” answers to their questions about their life evolve into an answer that’s saturated with godly confidence and peace? 

 

I hate to say it, but I don’t know the answer to that right now.  I could come up with a quick Sunday School answer, but I’d like to let this simmer and see how God teaches me through my daily circumstances.  Maybe as a family, we can learn and live it out together.

 

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Here's to All the Beginners Out There

My husband and I have always enjoyed looking at open houses.  We love our own house, but also love to explore and dream.  Last week, we took all four kids to a nearby open house.  We carefully coached them ahead of time and they did a wonderful job being curious but courteous.  On the short drive home, Jeff and I discussed what we both liked and I looked at the information card the realtor gave me.  Both in person and in his photo, the realtor looked very, very young.  Jeff said, “He really looks like he could be in high school.”  I totally agreed, but felt compelled to stick up for him.  “Hey, there was a day when we were that guy too.  He has to start somewhere.”

 

I remember what it was like to be a new teacher, still looking like a high school volunteer.  On my first day teaching my own third grade class, I stood outside the door, greeting each student.  I looked inside the now busy and full classroom, then at the cluster of parents standing in the hallway with cameras.  Addressing the parents, I actually said, “It’s going to be okay.”  With that, I left them in the hall and stepped into my first day in charge of their precious kids’ education.  I can only imagine how young and inexperienced I must have seemed.  I'm glad none of the parents chuckled openly at my one sentence pep talk!  But, you know what?  I had to start somewhere.  I had to start working and learning and growing from there.  (Incidentally, I’m still Facebook friends with a mom of one of those students - - a classroom volunteer so encouraging and supportive that she went on a field trip with me even when her son wasn’t in my class the next year)

A friend of mine is about to begin a Master’s program to become a social worker.  It’s a very tough job with a lot of burnout.  A program coordinator asked if she really felt she could do this career.  She already has a testimony of God leading her this way and believes He’ll help her every step.  When I listen to her, all I can think of is, we need good social workers and here’s someone willing to be a beginner; to humbly put herself out there.  I’m behind her all the way.

I’m writing a lot about foster parenting lately.  It’s my newest place of being a beginner.  Similarly to my first year of teaching, I’m starting with some knowledge and experience, even if it's not all under the foster care umbrella.  I’ve worked with kids before and have been a parent of my own boys for some years now.  I took the foster care classes.  I've taught a variety of kids with unique needs.  However, there is so, so much that I don’t know.  A day doesn’t go by where I’m not analyzing how I could have done something differently or what I wish I knew about kids in trauma.  Sometimes, I feel badly for my foster daughters because they are our first placement and it’s such a bumpy road as we learn from our mistakes.  But I remember my first class of third graders too.  I think I brought a lot of creativity to the table in places where my instinct was lacking.  By God’s grace, He will fill in my missing spots in this beginning place.  

My kids need it to be okay to not be expert toy-sharers, tidy spaghetti eaters, or even especially emotional regulators.  They are new at this.  It'll take time, practice, and patience.  

 

Let’s be kind to the beginners out there.  Let’s cheer them on and be gracious for the ways their newness shows.  The world needs people who are willing to step into brave things and not be afraid to learn as they go. 

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