What Foster Parents Aren't

We are not baby sitters.  I am not a nanny, a childcare worker, or an in home daycare. For one, those are all paid positions.  Foster parents do receive some money from social services which is intended to cover the expenses associated with caring for a child.  If I were to consider this income a wage it would work out to about 90 cents per hour, considering we get no weekends off and I am on duty 24 hours a day.
We are not hired babysitters.  We are parents. There is no clocking out at the end of the day.  We parent children, sometimes for a long time and sometimes for a short time.  Too often "the system" can treat foster parents like they are contracted staff, and children are put on ice until they can come up with a game plan.  But then pesky emotions and deep relationships get in the way of policy and bullet points...and that complicates things.  Some social workers appreciate that complicated reality, some don't.

We are not immune to heart break.
"I could never do that"
"I would get too attached"
Those are the most common response I hear when fostering comes up.  I understand it's meant as a compliment but it also assumes that somehow we are a different sort of human.  Getting attached is what we do.  It means that we have loved this child well.  Kids in the foster system deserve nothing less.  There is a difference between a strong love for a child (that can be just as deep as the love we have for the children born from our bodies) and unrealistic expectations.  We expect loss and grief.  We constantly push ourselves forward knowing that just around the corner the little world of safety we've created for this child might come crashing down.  Again. We do it because they're worth it.  Choosing to love, and pour myself out completely, for a child who may never remember me, who may never love me back, or who even resents my role,  has given me a much more tangible view of Christ's love for me.  We aren't stoic saints or calloused robots.  We love, we hurt, we love again.

We are not neglecting our "own" kids.  In all honesty one of the biggest fears I had about fostering is how it would affect my own children. We are a foster family, not just foster parents with other kids.  We are in this together, the excitement of getting a phone call for a new placement, the anticipation of shuffling to make room for the new arrival, the adjusting everyone's lives to accomodate a small stranger, the learning to love and the walking through loss.

This touches every one of my kids.  I would be foolish not to tenderly consider and assess their own hearts every time we say "yes". In fact the thing that breaks me the most when facing a child leaving or a "transition" to a new home is knowing it will hurt my kids.  Watching their little hearts break is worse than having my own torn to shreds.  I carry that heavy burden with each step we take as foster parents.  We have been fostering, typically one infant at a time, for 8 years now.   From this vantage point I can see that this thing we do as a family, this ministering to tiny vulnerable humans, has not ruined my kids.  I sense no resentment from them at all at this point.  Right now one of my children is displaced from an actual bedroom because a baby with horrible sleep habits moved in a year and half ago.  He sleeps on a camping mat, last night it was located on the living room floor. Sometimes it's in the toy closet. Yet, he loves her fiercely and doesn't complain (or at least rarely complains about the arragmements). Their lives are disrupted in every possible way, and yet these disruptions have the potential to forge character.

 I see how they each have a deep sibling bond and love for their little foster sister.  All five of them have their own unique and very sweet relationship with her.  Having little ones around has brought virtues out in my big kids that I'm not sure would have been this developed otherwise.  Watching a 12 year old boy nurture and tenderly care for an infant or toddler is precious site.  By being a foster family they have had ongoing practical life lessons in flexibility, responsibility, compassion, empathy, sacrifice, patience, generosity, and gentleness.  No, it's not always easy.  Siblings are siblings.  But if fostering has changed my kids it is for the better.  If it has ruined them, its for a superficial and selfishly lived life.  

We are not the enemy.  Fostering drops us into the middle of someone else's nightmare.  We are thrust into stories of heartache, brokenness, failures, and loss. Our role is to help pick up the pieces for a child who has become collateral damage in a family's crises. Sometimes that crises has gone on for generations, other times it might be a brief bump in the road.
By nature this role puts us in an awkward position.  As we strive to advocate for and protect the child in our care, this can potentially put us at odds with some biological family members (It can also put as at odds with social services).  This is not typically our desire or intention.  In fact, I find that with each new foster baby I welcome into our home, my heart is broken with compassion and expands with love for this child's birth parents. Even in their addictions, brokenness, illness, and poor choices, their biological family starts to feel like an extension of our own. Even if they don't have a relationship with or visit the child, they are never far from our prayers and thoughts.  We want success for them.  We want healing and transformation in their lives. We long for that, even once the option of custody has long since passed.

Foster parents see the worst of what broken adults can do to children (and what this broken world can do to adults), we know all too well that reunification attempts can be a disaster and the a child's best interest is not always put first.
That being said, if a parent or close relative is stepping up and working hard toward gaining custody we will do all we can to help that transition to be a success (even if our hearts are breaking from the personal loss).  I can honestly say that I love nothing more than to have positive relationships with a child's family of origin.  In some cases foster parents are co-parenting, even after a child has gone back to their family of birth. They become part of a birth parent's support network.  Some former foster parents switch from the role of active parent, to being a loving Auntie and Uncle that gets to be involved in that child's life.  It's not an "us" vs. "them mentality. It doesn't have to be.  Birth parents, foster parents, and case workers are all part of a team that is trying to salvage a childhood, and build a positive future.

We are not trying to strip a child of his heritage.  

In fact we try very hard to do the opposite.

This topic is pivotal and a focal point for social services in the area I live.  In my opinion tragic actions of the past have triggered opposite over reactions of the present.  Like a driver who hits ice and starts to slide off toward a steep ditch, who then over corrects by quickly turning the wheel in the opposite direction....which then puts the car into a dizzying out of control spin.  The pendulum has swung from having no consideration for a child's ethnicity or culture of origin to making that the apex of decisions being made, the most important thing. Being moved to "their own culture" (even to live with a non relative and stranger) can  trump things like current strong bonds, permanency/adoption, a child's current community and support network, and a consideration for things like trauma and attachment.  It's a very sensitive mine field that we walk as a multi-racial family.  Policies of racial segregation are one of the biggest frustrations I have with status quo.

 I believe that it is important for an adopted or foster child to grow up being connected to her roots, her culture and family of origin, and to have her ethnic background be part of her positive identity.  I'm sure we won't get it right all the time, but we really do try. We make that effort and naturally incorporate those things into our family life. My husband and I are as white as Wonder Bread and we have children from four distinct ethnic makeups.  Our home is a melting pot of various cultures.  Traditions that were passed onto us, ones we combined when we got married, some we create on our own, others we adopt into our unique family culture. So many things make us who we are and build our identity....our families, our values, our faith, our ethnicity, our experiences.  These are all so much more nuanced and complex than the dividing lines of colour that the world likes to draw.
I love all the children that are cared for in my home. As such, we start to identify with and have a deep appreciation for all those various cultures of origin...in our own way. Our family is a eclectic mix of Canadian farmer, American city, Chinese, M├ętis, Saulteaux, English, Scottish, Scandinavian, Polish....and Mexican because we love Mexico and thoroughly appropriate their culture any chance we get.  One of my blonde children actually convinced he was Mexican for quite a few years.  We have family members and close friends from many more fascinating cultures. Anyway...you get the point.  It's complicated.  Colour coded dividing lines get blurry.

We are not strong.   Don't get me wrong, foster parents are a passionate breed.  We love deeply and protect fiercely.  We resist very intense Mama bear fight or flight impulses regularly.  We get our hearts battered and bruised and then we are crazy enough to sign up to do it again, and again.  Don't let that fool you though.  We aren't always strong.  Sometimes we just make it through each day.  Sleep deprivation, toddler tantrums, various doctors appointments, visitation schedules, dealing with chronic behaviors stemming from damage that was done in utero, trauma, abuse or lack of healthy parental attachment at crucial points in development....they can take their toll.  The stress of never knowing what's around the bend or what news the next phone call will bring can make a heart and body weary.  I'm not strong but I lean hard on the One who is my strength. A God who rescues, pursues, and who binds up broken hearts. 

 Foster parents need community that "gets it", they need encouragement that what they are doing day in and day out actually matters.  An image from a story in the Bible just came to mind. Joshua and other Israelite men went out to do battle with the Amalekites.  Moses, Aaron and Hur stationed themselves up on a hill.  As long as Moses had his arms raised with the the staff in hand, the battle was being won.

 "But Moses’ hands grew weary, so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it, while Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side. So his hands were steady until the going down of the sun."

That is a fairly accurate depiction of why we need our brothers and sisters standing along side us. We are not doing "battle" against flesh and blood, but the battle is real just the same.  Our arms grow weary as we stand in the gap for each child that enters our home. Exodus 17:12

We are not in control.  I have very little say (none really) in what happens to any of the foster children that come into my home.  I do not make the case plans nor do they need my approval or permission to move a child.  I love these kids as my own, but they are not my own.  When you are fostering you have no option but to contend with the feeling of helplessness.  Like a little boat tossed around in a big ocean.  We just hold on for the ride.  We are not in control but we are trusting a God who is.


Living with a locked door and an open heart.

There seems to be a misconception in our culture that having boundaries equals a lack of love.

This spills out into many different aspects of relationships, family dynamics, and our society in general.  One way I've seen this explode to the surface is in regards to actual national borders and immigration policy.  There are huge debates right now on how "open" our borders should be, especially in light of the recent horrific Islamic terrorist attack in Paris and the Syrian refugees.

On one side you have people insisting that anything but dissolving national borders, and rolling out large welcome mats to anybody and everybody that wishes to relocate from the country of their birth is "xenophobic". These people often smugly insist that people who disagree with them are hateful, bigoted, racists. Because when you lack a logical argument name calling is an effective way to discredit and silence others.  There is also the assumption that if you have a more nuanced opinion you must lack compassion and are certainly being "unChristian".

On the other side of this issue we have people who feel that that borders need to be slammed closed, that people shifting around puts their way of life, their jobs, the economy, or their own comfort level at risk. Governments should only ever spend money on their own citizens and the world can burn outside the safety of their little bubble of serenity.

I find myself wandering through the murky grey area between.

 As Christian I am compelled by certain principles of generosity, grace, mercy and sacrificial love. I also believe that every human being is an image bearer of God and are inherently equal in worth. As such I will treat you with respect and dignity regardless of who you are or whether I agree with you on any particular topic.  As a Christian I also believe in justice and acknowledge the reality of evil in the world as well as the darkness nestled within the hearts of mankind.

Because of the reality of human depravity and sin,  I lock the door of my home at night. I am a realist with solid hope, not an idealist with pixie dust.

I lock my door, not because I hate everyone on the outside of my home, but because I love and want to protect those who are sleeping peacefully within it's walls.

I lock the dead bolt of my door knowing full well that there are some people in the world who callously choose to harm others.  It may be simply a small deterrent, but it's something.  There is some security in knowing it will be difficult for someone to enter unexpected and uninvited. I do it because that is the loving thing to do.

Some might say that locking my front door is hateful because someone might be in need of a home and they have every right to mine.  My home might have a nicer computer than theirs which really isn't fair.  Not allowing them free access is heartless and not compassionate. One might even justify home invasion and theft because the perpetrator might have felt disenfranchised or marginalized. Maybe it's a cry for help and we should put up signs on our doors saying "home invaders welcome" or "free hugs for burglars".

If you want to do that, more power to you.  You either lack good sense or are far braver than I.  Maybe you don't care about the safety of those you love or being a good steward of what you have been given.

My guess is that most everyone who wails against a cautious immigration procedure or secure border, locks the doors of their own homes. To me it's a very similar thing.

You see, my humble home is filled with people I love.  So filled up that we are in the middle of a construction project to add a couple extra rooms.  Our house is full because we have open arms and open hearts.  We have welcomed the weak, the unwanted, the rejected, the disabled and the wounded into our home.  We have become family. My prayer is that our arms and hearts will remain open and ready to embrace those in need.

Whether it's someone who's vehicle has broken down on the the bitterly cold Saskatchewan highway, or someone who has recently moved to our country...our kitchen table, as small as it is at the moment, is always ready to be set with an extra place.  Even if it means some of us have to eat on the floor or in the living room.  We will make room.  We will give you what we have.  Whether you are rich or poor, whether you are refined or so rough around the edges we have to remind the children not to stare, you will be treated with dignity and kindness.

This is our home.  This is the home I strive to create.  A place of warmth and welcome.  A place to belong and to be welcomed as you are.  A place where grace is lived out.  That grace is important because I am very aware of that not one of us who live here is without desperate need of it.

Here's the catch. We get to choose who we allow through our front door. We should and do swing it wide open to people in need, to neighbors near and far, to friends, to orphans, to widows, even to strangers.   On the other hand if someone is outside our home yelling death threats it is not unkind to close that door, lock it and call the police... Maybe even apply for a restraining order. 

Not only do I secure the door of my warm and welcoming home at night but I also have general boundaries regarding who I will share my home with, and who will be permitted to dwell within these walls.

 If I know that someone is a heightened risk to harm my children, for example they are known to have raped children in the past, they will not be seated comfortably on my sofa or curled up in one of our beds. If I feel compelled to minister to that person in any way, it will be outside the walls of my home. Some might consider that mean or ungracious, but it is something that my family has had to navigate.

I will not only protect my children but I will model that strength for them so they learn to develop their own healthy boundaries.  Love does not equal "tolerance" of anything and everything.

Those boundaries are not a fortress and our home is not a bunker where we hide. I teach my children to leave their comfort zone, and the relative safety of these walls, and go out into the world.  Love draws people in and it also means going out and meeting the needs of people where they are.

 Yes, as Christians we are called to love and forgive, even our enemies, but forgiveness doesn't delete consequences or equate trust.  Love doesn't ignore reality.  Sometimes love means saying "no".  Sometimes it means allowing someone to experience the consequences of their own choices or experience the just reward for their crimes.  Even if our heart breaks for them.

Loving those within my home requires my vigilance and scrutiny.   It requires that I carefully consider who I allow to babysit, and who I trust to spend time alone with my children.  It requires that I might offend, I might hurt feelings, and I might seem unwelcoming or overly cautious.  This is me loving those who are entrusted to me.  Those within my little flock will always come first.

I can promise you this, if someone does breach the border of my front door uninvited, and with malicious intent, they will not meet a passivist they will meet two fierce parents who would rather sacrifice their own lives, or end someone else's, than allow their children to be harmed.

Bottom line is this.  Loving parents do what they can to protect their kids.  Good shepherds protect their flocks. A responsible government protects it's citizens.  That is first priority.

In the past few days people are spouting all kinds of smugly absurd things all over social media.  One of the most troubling patterns I see are those people scrambling to deflect, distract from, or downplay the actions of the vile terrorists who massacred roughly 130 unsuspecting people. Many more were injured. The world, especially those who live fairly insulated lives in the west, doesn't know what to do with that.

 My theory is that people pretend violent Islamic jihadism isn't a threat because they don't know how to reconcile that sort of barbaric undeniable evil with a humanistic world view that claims everyone is essentially good. When something unimaginable happens they scramble to prop up rhetoric, like a corps with rigamortus.  Anything but call it what it is.  Anything but look evil squarely in the eyes.  Anything but believe that there are people in the world, who with a clear mind and passionate sense of purpose, have schemed, studied and planned ways to brutalize people they hate.

Christian doctrine accounts for that kind of evil.  It angers and saddens me, but it doesn't pull the carpet out from under my assumptions or beliefs about humanity.  We contend with sin, while proclaiming God's extravagant mercy and scandalous grace available to the vilest repentant sinner. We don't pretend evil doesn't exist.  We also don't pretend it doesn't exist in our very own hearts as well.

Denying how deeply depraved humanity is, is a false sense of security.  Metaphorically speaking, it's not us with our secured front doors and careful screening of babysitters that are clinging to false control, it's those of you who pretend that at is well while you "lovingly" welcome the devil into your children's bedrooms.

Some cling to the hope that they can appeal to, appease, and reason with stone hearts and blind eyes.  I believe heart transformation is something only God can do.

Some move forward with the hope that if they can make evil small, manageable or explainable...then they can prevent those horrible things from happening.

This world will be dangerous and unsafe as long as it continues to spin.
My hope doesn't begin or end here.

 I  have the assurance that, despite the raging chaos in the hearts and minds of mankind, Jesus is still on the throne.  Our God is sovereign and He is both the beginning and the end.

Terrorist don't win,  Jesus does.

Until that day, I will continue to have open arms and a secure door.


If your church's only response to the orphan crises is sending groups to an orphanage, there is a problem.

I'll explain the strange title of this post eventually, but first I want to tell you about something we had the privilege to witness.

Last night our church family rallied together to help bring a beautiful 11 year old girl home. She is currently in an orphanage in China and has cerebral palsy. The Peters family leaves next week! This is a complete miracle and amazing story in itself. From their first home study visit to their travel time was 3 months. That's crazy fast enough to leave their heads spinning and funds drained. 

All we did was organize the fund raiser...it was everyone else that showed up with big hearts and open hands. We had 72 people show up for the steak night dinner. I'm not sure of the exact total amount collected was since there were some donations in envelopes and some that came later.....but over $5500 was raised. That's not bad for one small church family and a handfull of other family friends.  We had dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, we could come away from the evening with $2000 to give this family.  
God is so good. 
I know I belong to a very generous church family...who live out the gospel they preach...but sometimes I'm still just blown away. The room was packed with young families living pay check to pay check, college students, immigrants, other adoptive and foster families, limited income retired folks, some who have more, some who have less..... all came to joyfully give, knowing all they have comes from and belongs to the Lord.
This is Jesus' people.
I'm brought to tears over it still.
Not everyone can adopt or foster but everyone who takes the name of Christ has a role in caring for our worlds most vulnerable.
Now we are all excited to welcome this newest child home, and welcome her into our church family. 
My heart is swollen from last nights display of love and generosity.  My heart still constantly aches for all the children still waiting to be loved.  Two very conflicting emotions that leave me inspired and driven to keep beating this same drum.. all children deserve to be safe, protected and loved.

I will be living out that mantra, and waving that flag, until the day Jesus takes me home.

I've written about orphan care in the past and how I think that the Church needs to do better than we have.  That's not to say that churches around the globe aren't mobilized and filled with people who are bringing children into their homes, speaking on behalf of the voiceless, and working tirelessly to affirm the value of each child's life ...but there is still a long way to go, a lot of Christians sitting on the sidelines, and one specific paradigm that needs to shift.  
Please take some time to watch this documentary on orphan care methods and how we can address the crises of so many vulnerable children wasting away in institutions, bouncing around foster care, or at risk of abandonment due to poverty.  Please listen as experts in orphan care from around the world discuss their dream of a complete paradigm shift in how we, as the Church living out the gospel within local church communities, care for vulnerable children. 
The dream is that orphanages would become a relic of history and that every child would have a family of their own.... Preserving their own biological family unit, placement with a close relative, or a permanent loving adoptive family or guardianship.

The practice of putting kids into orphanages stopped a long time ago in North America. How can we justify exporting, or even just supporting, that outdated and harmful method of childcare to other nations?
Warehousing kids just needs to stop.  Although I don't want to focus as much on the mantra that orphanages need to close as much as we need to challenge our brothers and sisters around the globe to step up to the plate and care for orphans.  Children need a family.  Period.  That's the way God designed children to be raised.  
I couldn't agree more passionately with this video regarding orphan prevention and permanency.
The Church needs to be on the front lines of "best practice" when it comes to caring for at risk children.... not a century behind clinging to detrimental residential orphan care practices.  

Residential, institutionalized child care is fraught with so many problems. Even the "good""reputable""Christian" ones.  Whether we call it a group home, a children's home, or an orphanage it's all still various shades of the same spectrum.  This documentary discusses many of the problems that come with residential orphan care.  They're right.  As an adoptive parent, a mother who has been fostering for 8 years, and former orphanage staff, I whole heartedly agree. 

 I've seen these issues played out before me while I lived and worked at an orphanage in Mexico.  Every problem addressed in this video, and all the problems I addressed in my blog post here were a major problems there. My own observations, and experiences, are not at all isolated but normative with institutionalized care. The more I inquire, talk to people, observe "aged out" children, and study orphan care methods the more I'm utterly convinced of this.  

As Christians we need to do better.   We need to do better with our money and the ministry/orphan care models we choose to support.  I would even dare to suggest that in many cases our well intentioned donations to "orphan care" ministries actually make the orphan crises worse.  

We must not do nothing....but doing something wrong isn't acceptable. 

This is a discussion those who care about vulnerable children need to be having.  These are changes that must be made in the way we think about caring for children.  

In Canada we have a dark stain in our history.  It's called "residential schools".  I think there was some shred of good intention that created them but they are a tragic example of why institutions raising children is a horribly devastating idea.  Of course there are some differences between Canadian First Nations children being taken from their families and placed into residential boarding schools and current orphanages around the world but many of the motives, methods, and harmful consequences overlap.  In Canada, the effects of that breaking up of family units still lingers. When a system decides that children who are perhaps living in poverty or who may be lacking educational opportunities with their families of origin, would be better off living in an orphanage, group home, or other institution....something vital has been missed in the equation.  Children must have love, nurture, stability and a family to call their own.  Without that any food, clothing and education means nothing.

   Taking (or luring) children from vulnerable families to fill up orphanages or residential schools is reprehensible.   Of course there are occasions when a child is being abused, severely neglected, or is totally abandoned.  Not every biological parent is able to parent. As a foster parent, I know the painful reality of this well.  When dealing with real world brokenness and vulnerable children there are no real cut and dry answers but rather a lot of nuanced partial remedies to complicated and tragic individual circumstances. 

What we do know needs to remain constant as we weave our way through the mess of this sin wrecked world, proclaiming life and redemption into the darkest corners.   

Children need families.  They need to belong and they need to be loved.  That's foundational to every aspect of child development.  That's how God designed children.  That's why he instituted family.  

There is something new happening within the church, and in many countries that are beginning to realize that something must change.  Fledgling foster programs are beginning in places like Mexico and Belize as well as around the globe.  The Church needs to be on the front lines of those changes.  Local, national churches, must be taught, equipped and challenged to view children differently.  They are not someone else's problem...they are ours.  

The North American church, where so many resources exist, needs to consider both caring for "orphans" in our own cities (and beyond) and also how we can help globally.

We must evaluate where our North American resources are going and pursue ethical movements to keep children in families of origin, or to have them placed within a healthy, loving family units.  Let's choose to support families that are on the front lines of new in-home, family based initiatives in developing nations.

If your church's only response to the orphan crises is sending groups on mission trips to an orphanage there is a problem.  

It's not malicious, just short sighted and narrowly focused.  You may be missing out on so many opportunities to create a culture within your church that proclaims that every child deserves a family.  The Church must affirm a self sacrificing, gospel centered, willingness to open our own homes as well as support adoptive and fostering families.

Children are worth it.  They are worth getting out of our comfort zone for.  It's important enough to ask the hard questions and dig for answers.  

Also watch this because it will give you the happy cries.


Don't wait for perfect.

An acquaintance recently wrote to me, shared her heart for adoption as well as some of her own fears.  She shared with me why it seems crazy that she would be longing to adopt, when she already has a busy household and all the normal struggles of life,  I assured her that I could relate to most every point she made.

For some reason people look at adoptive families...or families that are doing something out of the ordinary, and think they must be some sort of saints or super family.  As strange as it seems some people may even think that about us.  Those who know us well may have just spit their coffee out all over their computer screen in laughter.

 I think it's human nature to put other families or people up on pedestals.  I know I do that.  There are always families, especially online, who appear to have it all together and in comparison my messy house, tangly haired kids, and drained bank account seem really inadequate. Comparison can be a horrible trap. When you hold an unattainable standard up, like a just out of reach carrot that needs to be obtained before you decide to surrender the reigns and say "Yes" to a child in need of love...you may miss out.

 There are families who just seem to float through life on rainbows and pixie dust. They do family devotions and the children actually listen.  They eat every Pinterest meal together with well mannered children having delightful conversations.  They actually play board games and like it. You're pretty sure their children have never thrown tantrums or said naughty words.  My theory is that most of that is an illusion whether created intentionally or simply assumed by onlookers.

If my family is anything it's a testament to the fact that God uses very imperfect people to accomplish his perfect will.  He is the skilled marksman who can hit a bulls eye with a crooked arrow.  We just trust that he is shaping us, these broken arrows, as we are willing to be used.

Every day I fail.  I get impatient.  I battle selfishness and laziness.  I get discouraged.  I'm a flake when I should be consistent. I overreact in anger when I should be modelling grace. Occasionally I resort to making parenting decisions out of pride or embarrassment. Fairly often I wonder why God would think I'm fit to raise any child, never mind children born to another woman.  Sometimes I'm almost crippled with the enormity of the responsibility of that.

If I let my mind wander among the "what ifs" I can become paralyzed with fear.  Fear that I will fail at this task.  The irony is that even in that fear I'm elevating myself.  That fear exposes pride. I'm taking on a role that is not mine to assume.  These little ones, they belong to the hands that created them.  I am just stewarding their little hearts, minds and bodies as best I can.  It IS a huge responsibility but He has the final word in their lives, not me.

Daily I have to trust that God's grace will meet me where I am and fill in all those spaces where I so desperately lack.  I choose to trust that God is sovereign and that the Holy Spirit is at work in the hearts of my children guiding and drawing them in.  My job is to obey and trust that he loves them more than I do.

Any redemptive story that happens behind these walls is His work.  I'm like the three year old with a plastic hammer "helping" her Daddy build a garage.  He has invited me into this work, not because of my stellar parenting skills or because I'm especially needed, but because it is His good purpose and joy to do it.  His joy has become my own.

So to the ones who long to someday open their homes to children in need of family but feel that they must first reach some new stratosphere of holiness, or have a perfect marriage, or have a nicer home, or make more money, or discover the key to being a flawless parent.... rest assured that the One who ignited that burning desire deep in your soul is faithful.   He is the one who will make orphans sons and daughters.  Jesus is the rescuer and redeemer. You are the three year old with the plastic hammer. Waiting and hoping for a shiner plastic hammer really doesn't' make that much difference.  Just be willing to join the Father in His work and stay close by his side.


It's been a while

This is definitely the longest "break" I have ever had from blogging.  
The neglect wasn't planned or even anticipated but somehow it just happened.   

The more time that goes by the less this little corner of cyber space seems  like any sort of a priority.  Writing for the sake of writing starts to feel like a luxury I can't afford.  

It ends up at the bottom of the list...the to-do list that I never quite get to the bottom of.  Far below the mountain of laundry, the never ending meals that need to be made, the pulling a toddler out of the toilet, and every other little responsibility that keeps this family from sinking into filth and debauchery. 

My last post was about our foster daughters 1st birthday.   She is now a year an a half old and a delightful, spunky and very active toddler.  She has a mind of her own, knows what she wants, and is always on the move.  She keeps me hopping literally 24 hours a day (no, she does not sleep through the night).  I think this is part of my absence.  There is now a brief window of time...that glorious time of day called "nap time", that I have to accomplish many things that are hard to accomplish with my very eager little "helper".   

Today I'm using that golden moment in time for writing this.  It feels very delectable and extravagant. Like sneaking a chunk of dark chocolate into my bedroom and eating it alone while kids whine outside the locked door. 

I now have about 5 minutes before the school busses arrive and the rest of the crew descends with their stacks of papers, backpacks, lunch bags, homework and noise.  

So...this post may take a few days.  Or weeks.

This is a quick recap of the last several months.   The main reason I blog is to keep a running journal of our family life.  I have begun printing out different years of my blog into hard copy blog books. Someday I like to imagine my grandkids or great grandkids flipping though the pages of these thoughts and photos.  I think it would be cool to have something like that from my own childhood or from the lives of my great grandparents.  Plus I enjoy it.  I forget how much I enjoy writing until I sit back down at the keyboard to do it.  My constant blabbering about stuff on Facebook really only lets the steam off the top of the kettle.  

First an update on this sweet girl.
She is still with us.  That is not something we take for granted even for a day.

Our journey with her has been a wilder ride than I anticipated.  It has been more of an emotional  roller coaster than any child we have had in our care.  She has been scheduled to leave our home twice.  The first I wrote about a year ago and the most recent being just this fall.  Both placement plans fell through.  It's hard to even describe the extreme emotional lows and highs involved in that.  The constant uncertainty has taken it's toll in many ways, but getting to be a part of her life is worth every minute of stress.  
She's worth the extra worry lines, grey hairs and ulcer.  
She's not doing this hard story alone. 
This hard story is also amazingly beautiful and it's an immense privilege to be a part of.

She is so very loved.

Onto the rest of the family.
Spring began with me doing this.

It was fun and I would totally do it again.  I had signed up for the "Dirty Donkey Run" (a 5k race filled with obstacles and mud) several months earlier in the dead of winter.  Some cousins of mine were forming a team and it sounded like good motivation to start running again.  What sounds like a good idea in January is a little scarier when you actually have to do it.  I had been running a bit but by the time the weekend rolled around I was in no mood to go anywhere or do anything.  We had just heard a couple days before the race that Annie would be leaving our family.  After over a year in our home that unexpected news hit like a freight train. In the days that followed simply breathing seemed like excessive and cruel work.  I was in a fog as I packed our trailer and we headed to a campground to join a group of my cousins and others on my team.  

I was surprised to discover that it was exactly what I needed.  A huge distraction.  Something just for me.  Something FUN.  I needed fun.  My life is a lot of things but "fun" isn't always on the menu. 

Summer brought with it plenty of time at the beach and lots of time in the garden.

Annie LOVED the beaches.  She was as happy as she could be playing in the sand and water all day.  A perfect place for a clever, curious, sensory stimulation seeking toddler to explore. 

We had a family reunion at my parents farm.  A highlight was the giant back yard slip and slide.

We went to family camp for a week.  The same camp we have gone to for several years. 

My nephew and sister in-law came up for a month.  A tradition we've carried on for 6 years in a row. 

I got my hair cut.  Short! 
It was time for a change.  Something to spruce me up a bit. 

My little garden helper.

Happy beach girl.

Our big kids did quite a few back yard campfires this summer.  The giant pile of dirt is from the hole where our new basement bedroom will be.  More on that later.

This kid turned 12. 

One of her favorite things about family camp. Icecream every day. 

My summer project.  It was bigger this year and produced a lot. 

The main thing we did this summer is tear apart our house.  

It's an old farm house that was moved into our little town a few owners ago.  
It really needed some major renovations.
We had put them off for too long already so this year we decided to go for it. 

As we tore in we discovered quite a lot of rot, and even some fire damage that we knew nothing about. Any doubts about splurging for the renos were quickly erased once we saw how bad the damaged areas were.  

Phase one: tear off existing siding, replace all the old windows, rebuild rotten parts of the wall, house wrap, insulate, put on new siding, shingle the roof.  

I guess step one would be go to the bank and re-mortage our house.  Thankfully we have quite a lot of equity after 13 years of living here. 

I'm also thankful that I have a very handy carpenter husband who is able to do the work himself.  We did hire out the roof job to save on time.  Summer is only so long here in SK. 

Having a construction zone inside my home was a bit of a challenge with a busy toddling baby. We survived phase one though. 

I kid you not.  Our house was only insulated with old sawdust and horse hair. Real 70 year horse hair was what was insulating the old wooden windows. Saw dust was our barrier from -40 degree Celsius Saskatchewan winter.  No wonder there was a windchill factor inside our home! I'm hoping that our heating bill appreciates the effort. 

This is how it looked after putting on the new roof, new windows and new insulation around the entire outside of the house.  I'm looking forward to a much less drafty house this winter. 

Phase 2 of the project is to build an addition onto the back of the house (also paint all the existing rooms and put window trim back on).  It will include a basement bedroom and a dining room above.  A dining room that will fit a table that fits our family! 
I'm super excited about that. 

My beautiful daughter turned 14.

This guy had his 9th birthday.

My biggest and littlest girls taking an afternoon nap after a few hours of picking tomatoes.

This fall all the munchkins started public school.  
I will write more about that at some later date.
I still love the ideal and philosophy of home based education.  I really liked, and even preferred, the curriculum options and the freedom it afforded us as a family.....but the trade off was my sanity and children' misery.  

There are pros and cons to both and we've always only ever been committed to do what we think will help our child best learn and thrive.  As kids grow and change their needs grow and change.  As our family grows and changes our collective needs change as well.  So here we are.  All the kids back in school with Cece attending Kindergarten half time (every other day). 

With Harvest, renos and bringing in the garden (including hundreds of lbs of tomatoes to can) ...and a very busy toddler, I haven't noticed a huge amount of "me time" opening up....but I'm hopeful that as winter settles in I can do some things that I've been putting off.  Maybe even writing on this little old blog more than twice a year. 

Now that I'm on the topic I may as well keep myself accountable. Here are a few winter goals....other than paint every room in our house.  

1) I want to make some more digital photo books.  I've been trying to get all our family trip photos into actual hard copy books.  A book for each new and old adventure.  I also need to do a baby album for Annie. I love the finished products but it's very time consuming. 

2) I want to work on my Spanish.  I bought a Rosetta Stone and need to commit a certain amount of time to studying.  I'm hopeful someday we will return to our friends in Mexico and I really need to improve my communication skills.  It's hard to find time without a million interruptions though.  

3) I need to go to the dentist.  That totally counts as me time.  I could also add "shower every day".....  Moms of little ones get it.  

4) Write more.  Because I enjoy it. 

Here are my Lovies growing up super fast.

They are all doing great at school and enjoying it.  They're happy.  I'm happy.  Most of the time I'm not feeling like a complete homeschool failure...or a completely inadequate mother.  We're cool.

The house with new windows, insulation and siding. 

Now we are working (and by "we" I mean my very talented husband) on phase II.  This is a large basement bedroom and a dining room.  It will make our living room and new dining room one large room with plenty of space for a big table.  Our current dining area is very tight.  It's just a little bigger than our small table (that doesn't fit all of us) and we push it up against the wall when we aren't using it.  I can't wait until we have a big old table with plenty of elbow room....and room for things like serving dishes.  That sounds super fancy. 

Harvest 2015 is over and the grain is in the bins.  Harvest went late this year and many of our friends have not yet finished.  We are thankful.

A family that threshes grain together stays together....right?

Our updated family photo.  With a certain little girl's face covered. 
You'll have to trust me when I say she's beautiful. 

With that I shall end this long post.  Hopefully we shall meet here again before next spring.


365 Days, Happy Birthday my Darling girl.

One  year.

It's been a year since you left your mothers womb and were welcomed into this big scary outside world.  The circumstances surrounding that day are mostly fuzzy to me, and even if they weren't, I wouldn't share those sacred details here. What I do know is that you were a tiny very vulnerable little girl, not quite ready for this hostile world, but yet God's plan for your life began to unfold.

Despite being born from and into less than ideal circumstances your life was preserved and protected. Your life has value and purpose and is not an accident.  When I think about the day of your birth I ache for the woman who carried you.

 When I laid eyes on you at just one week old, weighing just a little over 4 lbs and hooked to various tubes, wires, and monitors I fell in love. I will never forget that moment when we first met.  I was instructed to wear a paper gown and gloves, an uncomfortable barrier between your skin and mine, and was encouraged to take you into my arms.

You astonished me with your strength, trying so hard to hold up your own little head and look around.  I spent the next week either sitting and holding you while you slept, or longing to be at the hospital sitting and holding that tiny raven haired girl.  You needed to know that you weren't alone in the world.  You weren't alone in this world.  You have never been alone.

At two weeks old a case worker drove you out to your new home, and you arrived looking so hilariously tiny in your baby carseat.  All your siblings were so obnoxiously eager to meet you. You have been fiercely loved by each one of them every moment since.

Every day, since the moment we first met, you have been our delight.  I can't even express what an incredible privilege it has been to be your family these past 12 months.  We are technically "just" your foster family, but in every way that matters we have been a family. A real family.

There was a time when I grieved over the fact that we wouldn't get to witness this birthday milestone and know your little toddler personality.  Now I revel in each moment of it.

Your 1st Birthday is such a sweet celebration.  A celebration of this amazing little girl that was so wonderfully created.

I don't know what our future holds my Darling but I do know that we have poured as much love and nurture into each day as is humanly possible.  You deserved nothing less from us.  It has been our absolute joy.

My sweet girl, we have today...and 364 yesterdays.
God holds tomorrow.

Even if I don't know what sorts of joys or sorrows tomorrow will bring I trust that He is good and that He has a loving purpose in it all.

So we continue to trust and pray and sing -

 "Jesus loves me this I know
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong
They are weak but He is strong"

At 12 months old you are full of life and and mischief.  You have a nearly constant smile on your face and a quick bubbling giggle. I don't think I've ever known a baby to have such a well developed sense of humour.  You love to play games and make us laugh.  You are joy, sweetness and innocence in one squishy little bundle.  Your curiosity and feisty tenacity keep me on my toes, and keep us all cheering as you try out new things with that "check this out" grin. 

At 12 months old your hobbies include pulling books off the book shelf, running water out of the drinking water jug onto the floor,  snatching (and using) the ipod or phones where ever they are carelessly set down, splashing in the toilet, taking baths, searching for tasty Legos, and emptying kitchen cupboards. 

Mostly you like to play with and soak up attention from anyone in the room.  

At 12 months old you have 6 adorable little teeth and are a good eater.  You weigh 20 lbs and have the sweetest little squishy legs. 

You aren't walking yet but you cruise along the furniture like a pro, and crawl like you're trying to win a race. You are adventurous and ambitious but have a sensible cautious streak.  You have just begun to stand alone...holding both hands up in the air, with a huge smile on your face and an expression that says "Hey guys, look what I can do!"

You love to give hugs, snuggles, and smushy kisses.  We are all eager recipients of your generous affection.  Your happy place is still curled up in my arms with a bottle.  This happy place usually puts you to sleep.  In fact you enjoy this so much you wake at least a couple times a night for a midnight snuggle (last night it was six times ...which reminds me that we need to renegotiate this whole night time snuggle thing).  As exhausting as our midnight rendezvous have become, I will remember them fondly in the years to come.  That quiet house has belonged to just us.   We have brought up a years worth of sunrises together.  It is a bit ironic that one of my biggest apprehensions in taking a newborn was lost sleep (I'm really quite attached to sleeping through the night), but here we are 1 later and you've slept through the night about 3 times.  That makes me laugh, and cry...because I wouldn't trade you for all the peaceful nights and late mornings in the world. 

You and Daddy have your own sweet relationship too.  You have him all wrapped up around your finger.  He would do anything for you.  You get so happy when he comes home from work, and burst out in a breathy excited laugh anytime the phone rings because you expect his voice to come out of it.

Precious Annie, you are loved.  Endlessly loved.

You are loved as much as any parent has ever loved a child, even if we have no actual right to call your ours.

When you strip away all the titles, qualifiers, prefixes, and legalities we are just "Mommy" and "Daddy".  We are family, not born of blood or even legal documents, but because we are in this together.

We are so thankful to be a part of your life and to watch you grow.

Love Mommy


When a killer isn't charged with murder.

I'm sure most of you have heard {this news story} out of Colorado by now.  It's a horrifying crime that makes us collectively appalled and disturbed, because it is appalling and disturbing.  It's a vile and heinous sort of crime.  I think there is still something in our collective consciences (maybe called common grace) that realizes this was wrong and horrible and that this baby was a helpless victim.

However, the woman who savagely cut this child (named Aurora) from the safety and warmth of her mothers womb and left her and her mother to die, will not be charged with murder.

Let that sink in a moment.

An intentional, premeditated, violent act that directly resulted in a death will not be considered a homicide. Why?

Because the victim is not considered a person by law.  

It comes down to the issue of personhood.  We have never learned from atrocities in history.  We still think that we have a right to pick and choose which human beings can be classified as people, and which will be denied all their most basic human rights.

It makes me more angry than I can even express.  It makes me sick to my stomach and puts tears in my eyes.  I grieve for that woman, for her child, and for us as a depraved and deranged society. I feel this as a mother who has nurtured life within my womb, and who has held tiny fragile life in my hands. I feel this as a mother who has buried a baby.  I feel it as a foster mom who has witnessed and seen the amazing value in children that are inconvenient and unwanted.

It all comes crashing together into a frustrated longing for justice.  A groaning with all of creation, like the pangs of childbirth, for this broken world with all it's pain, wickedness, and coldness to be made new.

This seriously ticks me off...and makes me sick.  

At least the culture of death is being consistent with their twisted ideology.

With all the disgust and outrage we feel at this incident, the only difference between this baby who was ripped from it's mothers womb and an aborted baby ripped from it's mothers womb is that this child was wanted by it's mother.  Why do we all feel horrified by the one, yet the other is simply a "choice" or "healthcare".

Legally, your humanity and right to be considered a person comes down to two things. Your location, and what someone else thinks about you.  How horrifying is that in any other context?

But why would someone else's feelings about us make us less of a human? Why would our location change a biological fact? I am either human, and deserving of human rights, or I am not.
The courts have decided that if you have not fully exited the birth canal and someone thinks you are inconvenient then your humanity will be ignored. That is the game we play.

Things get a bit muddy though when we come face to face with the humanity of the unborn. When a child is violently killed but yet was wanted we are forced to face the absurdity of our own justifications.
We flop around like idiots not knowing what to make of it all.  

This woman's child was killed. Someone irreplaceable and infinitely valuable was taken and destroyed.

That baby girl was either a human deserving of protection and justice, or she wasn't.  

That is why the abortion industry fights so strongly to dehumanize it's victims. Like so many other groups of victims who have been stripped of their dignity, rights, and lives throughout history. It begins with dehumanizing with words and laws that don't recognize their personhood.

I pray someday our decedents look back at us with horror and disgust...baffled at our blindness.

Once you strip away the rhetoric it comes down to this: you either have a society that protects vulnerable innocent life or you have a society that considers inconvenient people disposable.  

That's the bottom line. 

We have created the second.  

We have intentionally created a culture that can hear about a child brutally cut from it's mothers womb and do nothing. 

This is what we have become.  

This is what "pro-choice" lies have created.  We are so desensitized to baby murder, that we consider this child as simply an unfortunate price to pay for the "greater good" of women's reproductive freedom. A supposed "freedom" and "empowerment" that relies entirely on our ability to legally kill our own children. That's pretty pathetic empowerment. We are never made stronger by oppressing the weaker. We are not made a more compassionate and just society by denying justice to voiceless victims.

In 2013, Colorado Democrats stopped a bill that would have provided justice and protection for pregnant women and unborn children
.  Similar laws have passed in 25 other states. 

Amendment 67 wouldn't have saved this babies life but it would have given this baby justice. A murderer would be charged with murder. Had this personhood amendment passed, the child would have been viewed as a victim instead of just some lost property.  

Can you imagine any other context in which an innocent human being can be intentionally targeted and viciously murdered and yet not be considered a victim of a crime? 

Maybe a slave that had been beaten to death by his owner?....just some property to do with as you wish, after all. We recoil at the memory of slaves being treated at subhuman and being denied personhood but yet we continue to do it to others segments of our population. Our own children.

We live in a society where everyone wants to play the victim. It's like a new sort of twisted narcissistic game of elitism. Whoever can whine the loudest about their own need to be coddled and validated, whoever can cry with the most theatrics about being offended or having their feelings hurt wins. 

Where there is no crime, one will be invented. Where there should be no offense one will be imagined. Where there is nothing to direct our outrage at we will find something ridiculously insignificant on which to pour out our wrath.  We live in a hyper-sensitive age of "MY RIGHTS!" but yet everyone wants to completely close their eyes, shut off their minds, and harden their hearts to our societies most vulnerable, innocent, voiceless and brutalized victims. 

Pre-born children deserve to be treated with dignity, compassion, and have the right to exist. Women deserve to have their unborn children protected from violent crime.  
So, why is Canada and so many States  opposed to personhood and fetal homicide laws?  Because it exposes the lie that an entire industry is based on.

If unborn victims of violence were protected by law it would force us to ask "what's the difference?"  We would have to face uncomfortable truths.

The entire abortion industry is founded on the unscientific lie that the unborn child is not human.

Some more bolder pro-abortion activists are honest enough to acknowledge that it is in fact a human being but they simply don't care.  It's just the cost of doing business. They don't think the unborn child deserves personhood, simply because some people have more worth than others.  That is the more honest ideology that abortion is founded on.  Some lives matter, and are worth more than others. It's a heinous sort of hierarchy of death. Depending on your ability level, your gender, your location, or how someone else feels about you....you will either be considered worthy of protection or you will not.

I don't think any of us would deny that this mother lost a child.  It would be a special kind of deranged person who would console this mother with "don't worry, it was only a clump of cells anyway".

By the way do you know who the biggest opponents to Colorado's amendment 67 was? Any guesses? 

Planned parenthood and NARAL of course.   It makes sense that they would oppose laws (and spend a lot of money doing it) that would prosecute those who violently kill unborn babies....since they are in the business of baby murder and all.  That might cramp their style a bit. 

This is what we have become.  This is what the culture of death has created.  A world in which a baby can be brutally cut out of his mother, killed, and yet not be considered a victim.  

Oh, Lord have mercy.

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