A Woman of Grace

As I drove through downtown Birmingham, I listened to her story. I interjected questions here and there for clarification, but for the most part, she just talked. She was unloading. She was telling someone her story.

Her grandmother raised her. She wasn't a nice woman, but at least she was there. Her mom split when she was little. She saw her mom sometimes on holidays, if she bothered to come around at all, but for the most part, she was absent. She never knew her daddy. Never even knew his name. After her grandma died, she tried to find her mom. To make some sort of contact. To try again. But she couldn't find her. She still looks in the phone book every so often. Just to see if her mom's name magically appears in there. But she's not hopeful. She has no idea if she's dead or alive.  Sometimes she pretends that her mom got rid of the drugs, found a nice man, and had a family. At least then she would be happy. Not suffering. Not like she was.

At first she started using because it was just something to do. It was easier to buy drugs in her neighborhood than it was fresh produce. Cheaper, too. But from her first hit, they took control of her body. They owned her mind. When she was high, she didn't have to think about being abandoned by the one who gave birth to her. She didn't have to think about what kind of ugly words and physical torment she would go home to that night... If she went home at all. She didn't have to think about what those men did to her. She didn't have to think about how ashamed she was for letting them touch her. They were her family. They were supposed to love her and take care of her, but that wasn't love. No matter what they said, she knew that wasn't love.

As the drugs took ownership of her every waking hour, she pursued them desperately. She stole, she begged, she even turned tricks to get them. And soon she found that she was experiencing horrors just to get what she needed to forget all of her horrors to begin with. The vicious cycle was in full form. She couldn't escape it. And then she got pregnant. But the cycle continued. She wanted to be a good mommy. She loved that little boy more than anything in the world... Except for her next fix. She always told herself that the next one would be the last one. And then she'd be done. No more. But it just kept extending into a longer and longer line of "the next one." Before she knew it, she was pregnant again. 

Several times she tried rehab. The boys were taken away a few times, but somehow she always pulled off getting them back. She loved them. They were her only reason to get any better. Her only reason to keep trying. Her only reason to breathe. And then the unthinkable happened to them. She did whatever she could to take care of them when she was on a binge. They were safer with someone else then with her if she were high, right? She could kick herself now for trusting. For thinking that it was okay to leave them there. But all she can hope for now is that they'll heal and that they can finally break the cycle of addiction. That they can be the ones to rise above. To be brave and face their horrors head on instead of continually running from them, even at the expense of those they love the most. 

So now she was fighting. She wanted her life back. She wanted to raise her boys and to know the joy and happiness of being a mommy. She wanted to be there for them. Unlike her own mother, she wanted to watch them grow up. And she was trying. Trying so hard.

A few weeks later, as she called to cancel another visit, I knew in my heart she was using again. There was nothing I could do. I knew that this would spell disaster for any chance of reunification for this little family. My heart broke. It broke for the spunky little man who wanted so much to be back with his mommy and his brother. It broke for her. Because I knew that she understood what this meant. She knew the consequences. And I was scared. Without them, what did she have to work for? To get better for? To live for?

The time came for a meeting. I went in not really knowing what to expect. I knew the plan. There were relatives who were going the extra mile so that the boys could be together again. They were taking the needed steps to make sure that they were prepared for the challenges that raising these two boys would bring. They were going above and beyond, in my opinion, to take care of family. But I didn't know how she was going to react. Surely this couldn't be a surprise to her. She knew better than anyone what consequences would come from her addiction. And so I sat next to her at the table, with bated breath, waiting for the meeting to start.

What she said both broke my heart and gave me hope. In her soft voice, calm and determined, she told an entire room of people that she had fallen. She was no longer able to control her addiction, and like so many times before, it now had control of her. But she wanted more for her boys. She wanted stability for them. A good home and a loving family. She wanted more for them than what she had ever had. She wanted more for them than what she could ever give them. And as she spoke, tears ran down her face. Silent, hot, desperate tears. Tears that told a story. A story of loss, pain, and the horrors of her life. But also of love, sacrifice, hope and strength. 

Never had I respected her more. Never had I hurt for her more. She was doing the hard thing. She was making a gut-wrenching decision to give her children what was best for them. She gave them up to save them. 

Sadly, she's still living as a slave to her addiction. But all hope is not lost. She has someone on her side. One who does not push for adoption because she knows that it would take away any faint glimmer of hope for her to ever get better. One who drives countless hours each month to make sure that the boys get to see their mommy. One who prays relentlessly for her healing. One who, after more than a year in her home, is still looking for a place where the boys' mommy can heal and recover. One who loves her because she loves Jesus. One who knows what it is to show grace. 

I want to be like her. I want to be the one who stands with the mommies of my little ones. I want to stand in the gap, to support, to love, to believe... I want to be a light when all they can see is darkness. I want to be able to look a mommy in the eye and say, "Carry on, Mama. You're fighting the good fight." 

So many of these mommies have never had someone in their corner. I can't imagine the loneliness that would come from knowing that absolutely no one believes in you. That the world condems you. That you are alone. 

I pray that more of us come alongside these women. That we lift them up and support them. Because after all... We all fall short, do we not? Whether it results in the loss of our children into the foster care system or not... We are all sinners who have fallen short of the mark. And we all need Jesus.

Dear Mr. Eyelashes,

This Thursday you will be 9 months old.

Yesterday marked 7 months that you have been with me.

I am so helplessly in love with you that sometimes it overwhelms my heart and I forget to breathe. You are the brightest, most beautiful, loving child that I have ever met and I see a spark in your eyes that I know nothing will ever be able to extinguish. When you're asleep in your bed, my arms itch to hold you. When you're not with me, I miss you so much that my heart aches for you by the end of the day. I crave hearing your little voice. My heart skips a beat every time you look at me and smile. 

The past 7 months have been like a dream. It's almost as if I've been living a page from someone else's life. In a way, I have. 

You see, precious one, when the time comes, I will have to pack your bags. You won't know what I'm doing. You'll sit and watch me with your bright little eyes, never doubting my presence or my devotion to you. And you shouldn't doubt those things, because they will never waver. No matter where you end up, I will only be a call away. And while my devotion to you will change shape, it will never ever dissipate. I will always and forever love you, support you, pray for you, smile when I think of you. 

When the time comes, I will hand you off to another. One you will call Mommy for the rest of your life. She will adore you, love you, raise you, pray for you. 

I don't know if you'll ever remember your time living with me. How we snuggled for hours and hours. How I sang a special song to you everyday. How we danced around the house, tripping over the dog the whole time. How I rubbed your left eyebrow when you were sleepy in my arms. How we read books and watched shows about Alaska together. How I told you I loved you at least 68,000 times a day. How you grew teeth, learned how to sit all by yourself, realized you did like baby food, made new sounds almost everyday, felt a doggy's love, patience, protection and devotion, learned that the cat is never to be trusted when all you want to do is pet him, began rolling over and scooting, and so so much more.

Chances are, you won't remember those things. But I do hope that you'll remember that you were loved unconditionally. Please don't ever doubt that. Saying goodbye to you will be the hardest thing that I've ever had to do. Letting go of you and putting you in another's arms will rock my world. But I'll be okay after a while, and so will you. I will move on with life, just as you will. We will both learn that loving someone so deeply, only to lose them, doesn't shatter and destroy your heart. It shatters it so that when God picks up the pieces and puts them back together, He does so in a way that leaves more room than we ever had before. He grows our capacity to love so that we can do more, serve more, be more, love more.

At this point, I don't know what your future will hold. I do know, though, that I get at least a few more months of watching you grow and learn. A few more months of your snuggles. A few more months of your laugh. A few more months of your eyes. A few more months to love you even more ferociously than before. 

Mr. Eyelashes, you are my bestest boy, my favorite love... For always.

In Honor of the Dumb Little Flying Baby Who Shoots People in the Butt with Darts

You can call him Cupid if you want to, but I like the other name better...

So I've been pondering some things as of late. In my pondering, I've realized that there are some things I know about myself, and some things I don't. Today, on a day dedicated to love, and in honor of Cupid, I'm going to make a list of these things, but all through the lense of being single.

Things I KNOW for sure and for certain about myself:

1. Sometimes I'm okay with being single, and sometimes I'm not. So maybe this should be on my Don't Know list, but at least I know I waver between the two.

2. I'm not an ogre. I used to subscribe to the belief that I was a hideous beast, but I think that's only because that's what society tells girls they should believe about themselves. I've dropped that subscription, though. Now, does that mean I'm a super model? No, I like to eat. I think that nutrients are important for my body so that means you'll probably never see me on a billboard for Gap. Other than that little detail, I'm pretty. I like the way I look. Will everyone agree with me on that? No, but that's okay... Just don't tell me if you don't, please. :)

3. I'm relatively healthy. I can at least fend for myself. And if things go as planned, I'll be even healthier once I actually start eating better. (That's a whole different blog post in itself.)

4. I can be kind of funny. Sometimes. Once you spend a good bit of time with me, I'm sure the laughing probably ceases, but I can at least crack some good ones every now and then.

5. I am moody. Maybe it's because I'm a woman. Maybe it's because I've lived alone for so long. Maybe it's just the way God made me. I can even attribute this to being right there on the line between extrovert and introvert, but I'm not sure if that's the reason or not. The why of this can go on my Don't Know list, but I can go from feeling great and sociable one day to being a weirdo-loner the next.

6. I HATE yard work. It is a bane to my existence and I would rather chop my leg off than do it.

7. I am in no way, shape or form, a good housekeeper. My house is usually messy (clean, but messy) and I don't always put things away (or never, whatever...), but maybe I'll grow up one day and get better at it. I'm not holding my breath though.

8. When I buy into something new, I will be gung-ho for two weeks, and then I tend to fall off the wagon and totally forget about it. At least I'm good for two weeks, right?

Things I DON'T KNOW about myself:

1. As mentioned before, I don't really know for sure if I'm okay with being single or not. 

2. I have no clue why I'm moody at times. My mom calls it "peculiar" and says I get it from my dad. Don't tell her, but I think she's probably right. 

3. Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with me in that I have not yet gotten married, nor am I anywhere close to it.

Now, both of those lists could be much longer, but in the interest of saving you some time, and me some dignity, I stopped at that.

The rest of this post will be focused on #3 on the Don't Know list...

3. Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with me in that I have not yet gotten married, nor am I anywhere close to it.

Growing up, there was one friend that had a "list" that was longer than everyone else's put together. If you're a woman, you know exactly which "list" I'm referring to. If you're a man, well, I don't know. You may have one, you may not... I've never been a man, so I don't really know... I digress... This one girl, though, hers was long and detailed. Like, ridiculously long and detailed. We always kind of thought that her list was so long that she never marry because no guy would ever make the cut. Well, she's married now. I have no clue if her husband meets all of those requirements or if she decided against some of the pickier things on it, but I'm glad it all worked out for her, either way.

As for my list, I never wrote it out (that I can remember), but I do know that it was much longer back then than it is now. You may be wondering about what in the world would be on a 31 year old single gal's list... I'm glad you asked, because I'm about to tell you, so ready yourself...

1. He must be a Christian.

2. He has to either have all of his teeth or be willing to wear his teeth while out in public. (Really kind of hoping for the first option there, but hey... I don't discriminate.)

3. He must be open to foster care.

So when I think about it, it's encouraging that I only have 3 things on my list... That's amazing, right? Wrong. The kicker, it seems, is #3. 

I never imagined that I would have found my ministry before being married. I never imagined that I would be 31 and single. Ha! I was so sure that I would get married shortly after graduating college. I mean, depending on your definition of shortly, maybe I'm still within that time frame, but I'm thinking probably not. But the truth is, I know what God has called me to do. 

I am a foster parent. 

It's hard, frustrating, and can get very gritty and grimy in these trenches, but it's part of who I am. It's part of how I now define myself. And this, my friends, I am not willing to give up... Even if he has the most beautiful teeth I've ever laid eyes on...

I know that compromising on this matter will set me up for a lifetime of disappointment and knowing that I'm not operating in God's calling on my life. It's just not worth it.

So in conclusion, if you have recently had a conversation with your amazingly strong Christian neighbor/nephew/cousin/coworker/dentist/doctor/friend/son/brother/mailman who, with his full set of teeth, told you that he feels that foster care is his ministry and that he can't wait to be a foster dad... Send him my way. Otherwise, Cupid can keep his distance.

                    

We. Need. You.

She has so many reasons to lose it, to let go and give herself over to her emotions... Grief, anxiety, fear, exhaustion, despair, and anger.

But yet, she has so many more reasons to stay strong. Love, hope, responsibilities, commitment, persistence, her kids... Her calling.

She walks into the room with her face showing the obvious signs of tears, a cascade of them. This is not a weak woman. This is a woman who spends more time on her knees for her children, both bio and foster, than anyone else I know. This is a woman who speaks the name and healing power of Jesus to the kids in her care. This is a woman to whom most of us in the foster care community look to for guidance, help, and encouragement. This is a woman after God's own heart. 

It's hard for me to see the tears, but it's not hard for me to imagine why she's crying.

Foster care is not for the feint of heart. It is hard. It is frustrating. It is scary. It is grief. It's children who have been hurt in ways that makes you want to throttle the person who did it to them. It's children who have never been loved and therefore don't know how to accept your love, no matter how hard you try. It's children who do not trust adults because they have been betrayed too many times before. It's families who are broken and hurting, angry, needy, desperate. 

Living in the realm of foster care is living in a state of perpetual brokenness. The fear of what might happen at their next visit. The agony of listening to a child weep for their mommy in your arms, while knowing they may never be with mommy again. The knot in the pit of your stomach as you wait in the family court waiting room to see what the judge has decided about the fate of the child that you love. The intensity of behaviors that happen when a child has been damaged and broken, and is looking for solace and comfort the only way they know how. The day that is fast approaching, in which you will send them off to a new home while praying that they continue to heal, are safe, and seek after God.

So as I listen to her cry on the row behind me, as I listen to her pray for the One to heal the little one that is so broken, I know where she is. I've been there and I'll be there again in the future. It's certainly not a question of if we get there, it's a question of when. The moment when all we can do is cry out to the Father, hoping for a miracle. 

No, foster care is not a ministry for the weak. It's not a ministry for just the few who have been called. It's a ministry for ALL of us. Foster parents need your support. We need your prayers. We need your hugs and encouragement. We need a community to help us raise this broken child, so that they are pointed to Jesus every step of the way. We need you.

Paradigm Shift: Switching out the Preposition

A few weeks ago, I posted this on Facebook...

It was much to my surprise that someone I grew up playing ball with told me that she wanted to get it for me. To be honest, it made me a little uncomfortable because I definitely had not actually expected anyone to actually get it for me. I have been learning the very humbling lesson of how to accept gifts, though, so I gave her my address and that was that.

Only, that wasn't that. I kept thinking about it. Why in the world would she even give that post a second glance? What prompted her to do this... To go out of her way and buy something so trivial for someone she hasn't seen since high school? I haven't done anything for her... Oh my goodness, I need to think of a way to thank her. Why is it that she thought about doing this for me and is asking nothing in return? THIS IS SO WEIRD!!

These questions continued to plague me. Maybe they bothered me so badly because I just didn't understand the 'why' behind it. I didn't understand it because it wasn't a part of how I operated. Not that I have some hidden agenda behind every gift I give, or every act of kindness I do... But I can assure you that, for the most part, they are not expectation free. There's usually something in it for me. Even if it's just a hug, a kind word, or even being a little but more respected in their eyes... There's something.

So after a couple of weeks had passed, my mind wasn't quite so occupied with my previous dilemma. Not to mention, snowpocalypse came about and pretty much everything else besides getting myself and the baby home safely was driven far far away from my brain.

Then yesterday came and I got a lovely surprise visit from Brooke. As I sat talking with my precious friend, she told me something that completely shifted my way of thinking.

We shouldn't do things for others, but to them.

I remember staring at her with uncomprehending eyes for at least three seconds before understanding unfurled in front of me. Everything I knew about serving others just did a complete 180 in the moment that I understood what she was saying.

As she was telling me about her situation, the picture became more and more clear. This precious friend was telling me that she had been hoping to get love and acceptance by doing little acts of service for someone. When that person didn't react in the way that she expected, when she didn't feel loved or accepted, she was left feeling hurt and betrayed. After God began changing her heart and showing her what it meant to simply serve others with no agenda, she began questioning her motives behind her actions. As she was able to start doing those acts of service without any expectations or even desire for something in return, she began feeling at peace with the situation. 

When we do things for others, there is some expectation of repayment. We may not even realize it, but we expect something in return from that person. Even if it's simply to be treated with respect or to receive a compliment, there's an expectation.

On the other hand, when we do things to others, there's no expectation of anything in return. For so long, the word 'to' in this capacity meant that the action was negative. Think with me for a second at the wording that usually accompanies these two separate prepositions...

"Did you hear? She just did the nicest thing for him."

"Did you hear? She just did the meanest thing to him."

When you do something not quite so pleasant to someone, of course you don't want any payback! When I was younger and my brother and I would get into a fight, we wouldn't do something mean to the other hoping that they would pay us back in turn. That would be stupid.

The flip side indicates that when you do something nice for someone, you would like to at least get a "thank you," if not something more. Whatever the motive is behind it, it is still doing the deed for gain. 

As I have been pondering this over the past couple of days, I've asked myself how in the world I would even know if my motive behind doing something for someone was purely out of love or if I had my own expectations attached to it. By my reaction to their reaction, of course. How many times have I done something for someone, no matter how big or small, and been disappointed by that person's reaction? Umm, 1,673,249 times. Or at least close to it. 

Although touch is my primary love language (I'm sure that surprises you), acts of service and giving gifts are my secondary ways to show someone that I love them. If I'm completely honest, I have to admit that most of the time, if the person that I am giving something to or serving in some way doesn't react the way I think they should, my feelings will be hurt. Now, that doesn't mean that I walk around weeping about it or that I show my disappointment outwardly in any way. Eventually, though, these little moments of disappointment will chip away at the relationship until I walk away, leaving it to crumble. 

This, my friends, is SO NOT FAIR to the other person. I am essentially expecting them to read my mind and do things the way I think they should be done. So... Note to self, Erin; people are not mind readers. 

This habit of mine will be something very hard to conquer. It is ingrained in us from an early age that when someone gives you something, you promptly give a thank you note. When someone does something for you, you look for ways to "pay them back." This also works in the reverse.

This, thank God, is NOT the model that Jesus lived out for us to see. 

Jesus didn't die for us, He died to us. He doesn't expect repayment. In fact, there's nothing we could ever do to repay the debt. There's no amount of money that would be large enough, there's no amount of service hours that would be long enough, there's no amount of good deeds that would cover that debt. The debt is too large. But the good news is that it's technically not a debt. If Jesus did expect repayment, it would be. But because it was given to us freely, free and clear of any future payback or expectations to be met, it is a gift. The gift.

Therein lies my motivation to give freely and without any strings attached.

~~~~~~~~~~

One of the funny things to me about God is His sense of irony. There is absolutely no way that the timing of this could have been due to anything but God...

As I walked up to my front door yesterday afternoon (after having had my hefty conversation with Brooke that left my mind reeling) lugging a giant school bag, purse, diaper bag, and car seat, I spotted a little box on my welcome mat. I honestly couldn't remember what I had ordered. Interest piqued, I opened it as soon as I got inside and found the object that had started the process of priming me to be ready to hear and take this new way of thinking to heart...

Ali, thank you for being a part of this... and coincidentally... I. LOVE. IT!!

Seeing God's Hand in the Little Things

Birmingham is still in the midst of the thaw from "snowmageddon", or "snowpocalypse", as most people are referring to our recent snow storm. If you are not a fellow southerner, the "antics" of southerners when we get snow/ice may amuse you, or even confuse you... Leaving you to wonder why in the world those southerners can't just learn how to deal with a little snow and ice.

I will not get into all of the reasons why the "snowpocalypse" happened and why a southern city's infrastructure is not made to handle it. Instead, I want to focus on the seemingly small and even trivial ways that I saw God's hand at work this past week. 

1. With literally thousands of children separated from their parents overnight Tuesday night (and even some on Wednesday), I was able to reach my 8 month old Eyelashes and pick him up before things got too bad to do so. I was able to leave school (my school) as soon as I got the call that his daycare was closing so that I could go get him. The roads were already starting to ice over, and I slid a few times on the very short drive to and from his daycare, but by golly... I got him!

2. As I was leaving to go get Eyelashes from daycare, I got to the door and decided to turn around and go look for some different shoes. I was wearing my tennis shoes, which have very thin mesh and are not exactly made for braving cold, wet weather. I ran to my classroom closet and searched for my rainboots, but all I could find were my furry boots, purchased from the high quality store known as Walmart. They stayed on my feet for the rest of the day and I cannot thank God enough that these cheapo, ugly boots were tucked away at school just waiting for me to need their warmth in the snow.

3. I got out of the parking lot! I packed myself and Eyelashes up a little after 1:00 and decided to go for home. I knew the journey would probably be long and arduous, but not having enough diapers or formula for the night, I also knew I had no other choice but to do so. Officer Martin gave me some tips on how to get out of the parking lot, which has a hill on both exits. I gunned it up the flatter of the two hills with gritted teeth and bated breath and began our journey home. 

4. In the three hours that I was in my car, I was in front of and behind people who were driving cautiously and were going slow on the icy road. This made me feel so much better, knowing that I was relatively safe with the people who were surrounding me.

5. When I finally decided to bail and walk the rest of the way home, I had an extra bag in the car that I could put on both arms, somewhat like a backpack, so that I would be a little more comfortable on our walk.

6. I had an extra blanket in the car that I was able to use to wrap Eyelashes in so that he wouldn't freeze. I was then able to use his fleece blanket as a makeshift sling and tie him to me so I didn't have to carry him the whole way.

7. Eyelashes slept the whole walk home! At this point, it was 4:00 pm and this is Eyelashes's favorite time to nap. So instead of fighting with an 8 month old to stay put in a sling, keep his hands in where it was warm, keep his hat on his head... He just slept. Thank God!

8. I got to see many people who were acting as good Samaritans... Pulling people up the hill with a tow line, pushing cars who were stuck, offering rides to walkers, businesses offering a place for people to warm up when they were cold... I saw the best of my city on Tuesday, and it was such a beautiful thing to see.

9. We. Made. It. Home. The trek through the snow was long and cold, but we were safe. I didn't fall on any ice (although I did slip a few times), we moved way faster than the cars on the road, and I learned that exercise won't, in fact, kill me. :) It was actually a pleasant walk, given the circumstances.

10. The most significant way that I saw God at work, though, was this... I don't need the next new thing to make it through the day. I don't need a new phone, even though my current one is horrible. I don't need a new car, even though it would be nice. I don't need trendy clothes or shoes to make it through the day, although I think we can all agree that I do need clothes and maybe some shoes. ;) All I really need to make it through the day, or a rough time, or a snowpocalypse, or anything... Is faith that God is seeing me through it and that He is in the small stuff. He orchestrates our lives in such a way that all we have to do is look past ourselves and we will see Him. 

I choose to look past myself. I choose to see Him. I choose to walk in faith.

So how have you seen Him lately?

What Not to Say...

There are just some things I'm sick to death of hearing. Here are a few. Yes, everything on this list has been said to me multiple time by multiple people. Yes, you may have said one of these things to me... it's okay, I promise. And yes, my explanations may rub you the wrong way, but it truly is how I feel.

"I don't know how you do it. I would get so attached."

So I hate to sound like a sensitive little pansy here, but what that really sounds like to me is that you're implying that I have a gift of NOT getting attached to children, therefore I can be a foster mom. That's not a good gift to have, by the way... Just in case you were wondering.

"How do you not get attached?"

I do. Intensely. After a few hours. It's a kid who needs me and who needs love, there's no way to fill that gap for them without attachment. It would be incredibly unhealthy for them to not experience any attachment during this terrifying time of their life. And besides, they deserve attachment. Does it make it harder to let go in the end when they leave? Of course. But it's not about me. It's about them and the ministry that I have been called into and they have been placed into. It's about being a safe place and pointing them to the face of the Father. Without trust, I can do neither of those things. And with attachment comes trust. 

"How long will you have them?"

I have no clue. It may be 2 days, it may be 5 months, it may be a year or longer. I have relatively no input when it comes to the timeline. Not to mention, there are so many people and so many factors involved that the timeline may change daily. It's best to just take it one day at a time. (And while we're chasing this rabbit... "Why did the judge send them back?" I have absolutely no idea. I guess he/she thought it was best for the child. I was not consulted nor even present in the court room.)

"Are you going to adopt them?"

This is somewhat of a loaded question and it is something that I get asked a lot. The question itself does not necessarily bother me, because when the time is right, I will hopefully have a beautiful adoption from foster care story to write about and share with the world. With that being said... I think there's quite a bit that people aren't aware of that makes this question so difficult...

First things first, please never ever ever ask a foster parent this question when there are children present. 

These children have a birth family. They have a mom, dad, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc that they love and care about. Granted, not every child will have all of these people present in their lives, but for the most part, they have at least one and usually a combination of them. For most children in care, their foster family is NOT their forever family. Most cases have a goal of reunification and they may have family members working very diligently to get them back. There are children in care that go back to family members who are dedicated to their family's healing and restoration. We should cheer for that, celebrate it, shout about it from the mountaintops! And for the children who are not able to be reunified with their birth family... Yes, they may become adoptable. However, asking that very loaded (and quite personal) question in front of the children could very well demolish the bonds of trust that have been painstakingly built throughout the placement. 

I understand that many people ask this question out of sincere care and concern that they have for the child, and even excitement for the family who may be gaining a new forever family member. My advice to you is to let the family bring it up first, then you'll know for sure that they're ready to talk about it. If you just can't wait, ask in private. Away from children (foster kids and bio kids alike) and any other audience that will likely make the person feel put on the spot and pressured to give an answer that they are not yet ready to give.

"Why aren't you going to adopt them?"

If you do ask me the previous question, my answer, at this moment in my life, will be no. Please do NOT ask the why question. It brings about feelings of grief and guilt for me and it makes me feel like I'm being attacked for my decision. I am doing my best to follow God in this ministry that He has given me. I pray about every placement call I receive, every answer I give, and every decision that needs to be made along the way. Adoption is something that I pray about all the time. I know that when God gives me the go ahead, His answer will be made very clear and I will know without a shadow of a doubt that it is the step that I need to take. Until then, I wait. 

"You knew it was coming." (In reference to a child moving.)

It. Does. Not. Matter. I have journeyed into foster care with my eyes wide open. Make no mistake, I know they will leave eventually. That has no bearing on the fact that I will miss them and I will grieve in their absence. I hate to compare it to this, but would you ever say this same thing to someone who has just lost a loved one after a long illness? If you say yes to that question, you may want to take a good long look at your manners (or lack thereof).

"You can always just let them know if it's not working out and they can put them with another family."

Sure... Let me just add my name to the list of people who gives up on them. (NOTE THE SARCASM!) This is not a game. This is a child's life. Every time their life is disrupted, every time they have to move, every time they have to say goodbye to the familiar and start over again is another strike to any trust they may still have in the adults in their life. Many of these children come into care because of reasons that you couldn't come up with in your worst nightmares. They deserve healing, not another reason to distrust everyone around them. They deserve a place to be safe and loved, even if that comes with challenges. Are there reasons that a child may need to be placed into another home? Yes, there are, but it would need to be in the best interest of the child and based on their needs, not my own convenience.

"So what's this one's story?"

I really shouldn't talk about it, so please just don't ask that question. I know you ask because you care, because you have a vested interested in my family, but when it comes down to it... It really is the child's story to tell when they're ready, not mine.

"Why are they in foster care?" 

See the answer to the previous question.

Or even worse (like, a million-billion-trillion times worse)... "What did they do to be a foster kid?"

THEY. DID. NOTHING. A child is not and should not be defined by the actions that someone else has taken. Almost every child who comes into care believes that it is their fault that their family was torn apart. Do not perpetuate this belief by asking this question. I'm going to be completely honest with you... If you ever ask me this question, especially in front of the children in my care, I will probably not put myself or my children in the position to be around you again. It's too risky for their little hearts to be around someone who is so careless with words. 

"Parents who lose their kids shouldn't get anymore chances."

You should probably know something about me... I'm on the family's side. Ultimately, I will support what is best for the child, but these families need a cheerleader. Many times, these parents have no one that they can lean on or trust. They have no one that encourages them or prays for them. Many times, they are simply doing what they know to do. I do not defend their actions, but I will fight tooth and nail to help them heal and become a better parent. And who of us has not received 2nd, 3rd, and millionth chances? It's a good thing that God is more forgiving of us than we are of others...

"Welcome to motherhood."

I'm quite certain at I'm guilty of saying this... But let's just all come to an agreement that; A) my motherhood is different than yours so you can't welcome me to it, B) your motherhood is different than mine so I can't welcome you to it, and C) it may be one of the most annoying sayings in the universe.