Tag: God

May 10th

I wake before dawn, my son’s cries prompting me to stumble out of bed and down the stairs to where he cries in the darkened kitchen.  He’s looking for his Daddy but it’s too early so I scoop him up and carry him close to my heart back up the stairs.

I wipe his tears and his nose, get him a drink, and then tuck him back into bed next to his love bunny.

“Goodnight, Babe.  I’ll see you in the morning.  Mommy loves you.”

Back in bed I climb between the cool sheets, but now I’m awake and the birds are chirping and it’s May 10th.

May 10th.

A year ago today my 18 month old son fell off the back of a pickup truck.

My husband and I did all the things you do.  We watched for drowsiness, nausea, vomiting, disorientation, swelling on the skull, lack of balance.

He seemed fine.

It was evening so we kept him up an extra hour or two and woke him every two hours through the night.  Each time he responded appropriately and by morning we were less concerned.

He had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for the following day–his 18 month check up and immunizations.  I took him in, deciding I would mention the fall he’d had last evening to the doctor just to  be on the safe side.  I could feel a bit of swelling over his left ear, and he reacted to some slight pressure, but otherwise was his normal happy self.

When the nurse called us in she felt the bump on his head and said she’d mention it to the doctor.  We looked at the 18 month developmental goals.  His speech was on the low side of average but I wasn’t worried.  Kids are all so different and I hate the way we put them all in categories so early in life.  His head circumference was on the larger side and I joked about my husband’s genes producing large heads.  He had two routine immunizations, which he handled well.

When the doctor came in to see us she agreed there were no concerns about development at this point but said she was going to send us for a skull x-ray just to be on the safe side with his head injury.

“I’m probably going to regret this because if they see anything at all they’ll want you to get a CT scan as well but I’m going to do it anyway, just to be safe.  We don’t want to miss anything,” she said.

I reluctantly agreed and we left with the x-ray requisition.

I had been through x-rays and CT scans and MRI’s before with an infant we fostered so I was not looking forward to putting my shy little boy through the process of an x-ray.  I knew from experience the contraption they strapped tiny people into for an x-ray looked more like a medieval torture device than modern medicine.  The worst part was that because the x-ray emits strong radiation waves, I was not allowed to stay inside the room with him.

I called my husband and let him know what was going on, irritation in my voice.  I was frustrated that we had to put our son through this when it seemed that he was fine.

I went to the hospital as quickly as possible and they conducted the x-ray, promising they would send the results to my doctor who would call me to let me know what they revealed

By the time we got home we were both tired and hungry.  I made lunch and tucked him in for his nap.

I had barely got back down the stairs when the phone rang and my doctor’s name flashed up on the screen.

“I’m sorry, they saw a small fracture so they’d like to do a CT scan,” she said, her voice apologetic.  She didn’t sound worried, and reassured me it was probably minor but that they had to be extra cautious with head injuries.

I grudgingly woke my son from his very short nap and called my husband again with the news.  By now I had let the frustration seep in and I felt like crying.

It had been a long day already and it was just past noon.

Immunizations, a skull x-ray and now a CT scan yet too.

We headed back to the hospital.

I felt horrible.

We were both grumpy and tired.

What did a fracture on a toddler’s head mean, anyway?

What have I done?

At the hospital the doctor reassured me it didn’t appear to be anything serious and gave him some sedation to help him stay still through the CT scan.  It was a relief to have him sedated for the CT so that I wouldn’t have to listen to his fearful cries as we strapped him to the table and I stepped outside the room.  It also gave him a chance to get some much needed sleep.

It was approaching dinner time and all I wanted was to be at home with my family.

Back in the ER unit across from the nurses’ station we waited some more, me trying to keep my son from falling and hitting his head yet again as he drowsily came out of sedation and tried to crawl off my lap.  He was tipsy and clumsy and I had to laugh watching him as I tried to restrain his movements to keep him safe.  Freezies and juice helped move the sedation through his body and reorient his senses.

I had no idea that day how often we would do this in the following months.

I kept my eyes and ears on the doctor as he came and went from the station across the hall.  I tried not to let the niggling fear creep in as I watched him studying the computer screen and talking in low tones on the phone.

I sent messages to my sisters and mother-in-law on our family chat group, letting them know where we were and why.  They promised to pray and sent hugs and kisses.  By 5pm my mother-in-law let us all know that they, too, were sitting in an ER room as my father-in-law had broken his wrist at work!

We laughed at the irony.

Finally the doctor reappeared and I sat up eagerly, waiting for answers and hoping he would be discharging us soon.

Now, I would be able to recognize the signs that something was wrong;

The vague explanations, the carefully side-stepped questions…

We might need to be sent to Orillia, the nearest paediatric centre, by ambulance for monitoring over night.

Did I have someone who could bring me some clothes and essentials?

I called my husband and updated him, asking him to pack a bag of things.  I wished he were here, and we discussed who should go and who should stay with the other kids.  Both of us felt frustrated and anxious and our conversation was short and stilted.  I didn’t want to go…I was scared.  But I certainly didn’t want to stay home while my baby went either!

He promised to bring me some things when I heard more and we hung up.

The next time the doctor reappeared his eyes held concern,

“Is there someone coming to bring you some things?  You will definitely be going to either Orillia or Toronto Sick Kids tonight.”

Sick Kids?

My heart dropped and I felt terror course through me for a brief second until I forced it down.

Sick Kids was not for minor falls.

Sick Kids was not for a small fracture or bruise.

“Is everything ok?” I forced out the words calmly, though my mind was screaming them.

He looked at me and said, “Why don’t we wait until your husband arrives and I will explain everything to you both.”

I knew.

Looking back now, I can see that in that moment something resonated.

Everything was not ok.

This time on the phone my voice broke and I pleaded, “Please come now.  They’re talking about sending us to Sick Kids!”

We both knew something had changed.

When he arrived the doctor came to us and pulled the curtain closed behind him.

I don’t remember the conversation except this.

Brain tumor.

Our son; our beautiful baby boy…had a brain tumor.

When they took a CT scan to examine the fracture more closely, they could see it.  A huge dark shadow on his brain.

It took a complete reorientation to realize that this fall, this minor fracture, was the least of our worries.

Our son’s life was in danger.  Not because he fell four feet onto concrete…but because he had a massive tumor growing inside his brain.

It wouldn’t be til almost a year later, sitting across from my counsellor with tears rolling down my cheeks, that she would help me see it.

“You know, He wanted you to know.”

We could see it faintly…the blessing in the fall…and spoke it.

But to hear the words, He wanted you to know.

He wanted to save your son.

Life.

When the doctor left with sincere, hushed apologies and a promise to return with more details of transportation soon, we crossed the distance between us and clung to each other, our son held between us.

We tried to process our new reality.

Details emerged.

We’d be transferred by air to Sick Kids by the ORNGE Medics team.  They’d be there to pick us up in an hour or less.

It is the little moments that I remember:

The numbness that took over my body as we went through the next hour waiting for the helicopter to arrive.

The way I collapsed in tears into my friend’s arms when she found me at the hospital just before we left, her shift just beginning.  Her words, “It’s going to be ok.  They can treat this.”  And the news of her pregnancy; a light in the middle of the darkness closing in.

The way the chopper blades cast a whirlwind on us as we approached in the dusk, whipping my hair and carrying my son’s frightened cries up into the sky.

The utter confusion I felt when they asked, “When is the first time you were told his head was larger than normal?”

Were we supposed to notice it?

All the times he’d ever cried inconsolably or been sick or hurt came rushing back.

Should I have known? 

Would another mother have known?

The way all of life seemed to hold its breath as we lifted up into the night sky.  I looked down on the bright lights below; at my son fallen into an exhausted sleep on the stretcher and the medics sitting quietly opposite me in the dark.  I heard the words almost audibly.

Steadfast Love.

They held me in that moment of terror and brought a quiet peace I cannot explain.

Over the next twelve hours they told us more.

They told us our son’s tumor had probably been there since birth, steadily growing.

It was shocking in the worst of ways.

I felt helpless and betrayed.

Robbed of my innocence.

So where was God?

Where was He when my son was diagnosed with a brain tumor?

Where was He when a hundred needles were poked through his smooth baby skin?

Where was He when we had to hand our son over to a scrub-clad OR nurse and watch them take him away from us, his cries causing sobs to tumble from our chests.

Where was He when our son’s IV line slipped out of his vein and sat unnoticed, leaving him without the antiseizure medication he needed and causing his little body to begin seizing every few seconds?

Where was He when we begged for healing for his hydrocephalus but instead he had to undergo yet another surgery to insert a shunt?  A shunt that causes other complications and dangers.

Why didn’t God heal our son when we asked him to?

Why him?

Why us?

***

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind and said:
Who is this that darkens my counsel by words without knowledge?
Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?
Who shut the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb, when I made clouds it’s garment and thick darkness its swaddling band, and prescribed limits for it and set bars and doors, and said, “Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stayed?”
What is the way to the place where the light is distributed, or where the east wind is scattered upon the earth?
Who has put wisdom in the inward parts or given understanding to the mind?
Who provides the raven its prey, when its young ones cry to God for help, and wander about for lack of food?
Do you give the horse his might?  Do you clothe his neck with a mane?  Do you make him leap like the locust?  His majestic snorting is terrifying.  He paws the valley and exults in his strength; he goes out to meet the weapons.  He laughs at fear and is not dismayed; he does not turn back from the sword.
Is it by your understanding that the hawks soars and spreads his wings toward the south?  Is it at your command that the eagle mounts up and makes his nest on high?
Will you even put me in the wrong? 
Will you condemn me that you may be in the right? 
Have you an arm like God, and can you thunder with a voice like this?
Whatever is under the whole heaven is mine.
Who is then he who can stand before me?
Then Job answered the Lord and said:
“I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.  I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.  I repent.”
(Job 38-42 excerpts)

***

And I fall to my knees in worship.

Because He was right there.

He was right there through 18 blissfully naive months as a monster grew inside my baby’s brain.

He was right there when we turned our backs for a second…and he fell four feet down onto concrete.

He was right there when our doctor sent us for a skull x-ray, just to be on the safe side.

He was right there when the very same day that our son was diagnosed, my father-in-law broke his wrist at work, leaving him without work responsibilities for 6-8 weeks.  Instead he was busy caring for our two daughters and us.

He was right there when the surgeon smiled and said, “It went better than I could have expected.  We got it all.”

He was right there when my gut prompted me to go to the nurse and say, “I’m sorry, I know I am probably just being paranoid but I feel like something is wrong.”

He was right there in that chopper, breathing words of peace into my terror.

He was right there for weeks before our son’s fall, drawing me back again and again to the words in the Psalms…steadfast love.

He was right there when we heard the words…benign.  No cancer.  No further treatment.  Low probability of recurrence.  “I don’t see why he shouldn’t make a full recovery.”

He was there.

He was our Shield.

Our Protector.

Our Light in the darkness.

Our Hope.

I still don’t have answers to the why’s, but they become less important when I see His sheer Greatness and my own smallness.

Suddenly, I don’t expect to understand.

Instead, the why’s turn to why not’s.

Why not us?

As I look around the crowded dining room at the Ronald McDonald Charity House, smiling at the now familiar faces.  She bounces over, eyes shining and bright despite the fact that she and her family have been here for months now while her little sister fights the disease ravaging her body.  This room is one of the most beautiful displays of joy amidst pain, generosity amidst difficulty and hope amidst darkness.

The reality is that every one of us is dying.

The world is broken and so are we.

Sin cast its dark spell and we are all vulnerable to it’s snare.

Today, on May 10th, I watch my son giggle alongside his foster brother — two tow-headed boys covered in sand and water.

Today, I watch him chatter to himself, copying his big sisters’ words and tones.  For months he was oh so quiet and I feared he would never speak again.  But the words keep coming faster and faster.

Today he roars at me while sitting on the toilet, my little lion, and giggles uncontrollably when I cover my eyes in mock terror.  Potty training and copying his favourite story book.

I watch him run across the yard, one foot landing a little harder than the other despite the physiotherapy we’ve done.  It doesn’t make me fearful…instead it makes me smile and feel oh so grateful.

I track his fluids and we go get bloodwork done at the clinic.  As I pull into the parking lot I explain,

“We have to do a little pokey and then all done.”

He looks at me with wide eyes and points to his arm.

“Po?”

I smile and nod.

There is no fear as we go inside, take off his jacket and sit down across from the elderly couple.  I’ve never seen another child here.

He is a calm and adorable as we take our place and the nurse holds his arm.

After a few tears he is happy again and proudly carries his stickers outside.

Today I am not scared.

I am not angry.

I am not sad.

Did God heal my son?

Yes and no.

He will most likely have a shunt for the rest of his life.  He is still developmentally delayed and may suffer from learning disabilities as he grows older due to the trauma in his brain.  He has low sodium levels for a reason we are not sure of at the moment but that are moderated with a fluid restriction.  We do not yet know if he will need antiseizure medication long term.  He is still enrolled in three therapy programs; speech and language therapy, occupational therapy and physiotherapy.

But today I am just grateful.

Because I have my son, and in the last year I have seen my world shift on it’s axis, spin out of control and right itself up inside my Father’s strong grasp.

It’s hard to imagine how life can become more clear, more precious, more meaningful…until it does.

I don’t wish all this away.

I can no longer remember what it was like before.

I know I can’t protect my son…and that brings sweet relief instead of fear.

I know I can’t control my life by doing it all right — my two little boys are a testament to that.  One I protected fiercely from the minute I knew of his fragile existence in my womb.  He was given every advantage and still a massive tumor grew in his brain.

The other faced adversity and fought for survival from the second he came into being…yet he is happy, healthy and brilliant as he shows my son how to build a tower and “reads” him their favourite story.

Why did my son have to suffer?

I don’t know.

I don’t have all the answers and I cannot argue theologically through the why’s of suffering.

I just know that I have a good, good Father.

He is real,

He is good,

I believe

and I am grateful.

I can’t question the God I believe in because it is He who has sustained me, healed me, rescued me, and breathed hope into my terror.

He created a million galaxies in a single breath.

***

It’s getting light outside now, and my hand cramps on the pen.

I set my notebook on the night table and curl up to wait for the inevitable pit PAT pit PAT of my son’s sleepy, uneven stride across the hall.

It’s May 10th

But I feel peaceful, grateful and humbled by the love of my God.

-AF

 

Life Unexpected

It is the stuff of nightmares.

A doctor with an apologetic face;

He’s offering a chair, taking a deep breath…

Brain tumour.

My heart clutches.

I look to my husband and I see his face cringe.

Our son snuggles closer between us when we cling and sob out sorrow.

I race home to collect a bag of things,

To hug my girls good-bye.

Their fear and innocence in contrast pushes me on.

I promise them and hold them tight.

Before I can breathe,

process,

hold this new reality in my hands…

We are being rushed toward the helicopter, my tiny son strapped to a stretcher and crying as we roll through the darkness.

I’m kissing my husband goodbye.

“I will be there as fast as I can.”

I want to scream,

To pull my baby in my arms and run far away from all this.

The men are large and strangely comforting in their neon jackets.

They are gentle and calm.

They strap us in and sit quietly in my stunned grief as we fly through the night sky.

My son settles into an exhausted sleep and I hold his hand and stare down at the lights below.

Steadfast love.

It comes to me and pulls together my anguished heart.

Over and over in the last 2 weeks I was drawn to the psalm, not sure why, and now the words bind up my wounds.

“Your steadfast love, O Lord; extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds.”

“How precious is your steadfast love, O God!”

“Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in you.”

Steadfast.

Love.

I breathe and take refuge in the angels in neon across from me.

We are landing and they place him back in my arms.  I hold him close and wrap a blanket around his bare arms.  We’ve left without a jacket and the night air is cold.  I grip him to my heart and try to transfer myself to him.  I know he is afraid.

Steadfast love.

We follow strange corridors and crowd into an elevator.  The men in neon surround us and tower over us.  My son gazes wide eyed and scared.

We follow back outside to an ambulance and whisk away.

I breathe gratitude and feel tears well when they allow me to hold him instead of strap him to the stretcher.

We are sitting in a busy hallway on a stacking chair being admitted and still I hold him tight to my chest, the blanket securing him to me.

My eyes feel big and scared.  I feel small and unsure.

My heart flows gratitude when I see my big brother round the corner and come to us.

He stays with us even with his own son lying upstairs.

Steadfast love.

The hours blur as they insert IVs, put on lead lines and watch monitors.

My baby’s skin has always been so spotless and white.

I cringe as they pin him down and poke and press.

He is terrified.

My husband comes and we sit together in shock as our baby drifts to sleep on the cold white hospital bed.

Questions.

Answers?

My phone dies from the texting.

We spend the night in a crowded room trying to sleep in the upright hospital chairs.

We won’t leave him.

He falls into sleep and I am so thankful he can escape this nightmare as I try to get comfortable.

The next day there are tests.

More questions.

Information staggers my mind and makes me stare at my boy unbelieving.

So perfect.

So unblemished.

So innocent.

Brain surgery tomorrow.

9am.

They will cut his scalp open and drill a passage way through his brain.

I hold the words at arms length and turn my eyes so I won’t have to look too close, to let the terror seep in.

I focus on reassuring my toddler, learning new terms and piecing together brain anatomy.

I phone my girls and once again I put on my brave voice.  I am their string of hope and I won’t let them down.

My voice is strong and sure as I promise them and reach for words they can understand.

I give them just enough to ease their anxiety, but not too much.

We take our little boy, clad in hospital gown and pajama pants, to the play room.  For over an hour he plays and we watch him forget about the IV on his arm.  He babbles and laughs and points at the elevators moving up and down.

Steadfast love.

I wonder when he will play again.

That night I sleep on a couch near his room, comforted by knowing that I will be close by if he needs me.

Morning.

Surgery day.

Only now do I let myself Google it…preparing my heart for the fall.  The words I find give me footholds of reassurance and I claim them fiercely.

My husband carries him through the halls to the OR.

We look at books and try to hide our uncertain tears from his little face as we wait.

He likes the trucks and tractors in the book.

For a minute he goes very soft in my arms and snuggles up to my neck.  I squeeze him close and breathe him in.

Steadfast love.

When they take him and his bunny Flopsy away he cries and we force ourselves to turn and walk away.

My mother in law’s arms give me a second to collapse and I feel tears rush in.  She holds my pain for a minute before letting go and it feels good to share a bit.

It is 6 long hours.

I am nervous…but I also feel held.

I am humbled as I realize all the people praying in this moment.

I believe.

Steadfast love.

The surgeon is there.  I anxiously rise to the inevitable and scan his face for hope.

He is so pleased.

Gratitude overwhelms as he describes what we hardly dared hope for.

It is gone.  They’ve gotten every piece they could find.

Steadfast love.

We go in to see him and I could weep with relief.  His chubby cheeks relax in peaceful sleep.  Flopsy is still there with him and we tuck him up by his arm.

Steadfast love.

The uncertainties lurk but we hold onto the hope and embrace it.

Its been a few days now and I sit by my baby’s bedside in the ICU.

The adrenaline rush is collapsing and the truth feels cold and hard beneath my tumbling heart.  I am scared and uncertain in this new reality but still…

Steadfast love.

I reach for the hearts that I know will hold me, us, in all our pain.

He is seizing beneath my trembling hands and his eyes stare dull and lifeless.

They are rushing in, grabbing masks, calling code.

I am being pushed back from his bedside and I cling to my husband’s trembling chest.  More and more…they just keep coming, calling out orders and stats.

I am terrified and the sobs push out of my lips.

I stumble out into the hallway into the waiting arms of my sister in law, who came rushing when she heard the code.

She holds me and says “I’m sorry” as I fall apart.

I know she knows this feeling and I am so grateful for her presence in this moment.

He knew that I would need her tonight and her son is surprisingly, blessedly, fast asleep down one floor in his room.

Steadfast love.

We return to the ICU and I am so grateful.  The carefully monitored room feels familiar and safe after the last 24 hours.

Answers come and we nod in understanding as they explain.

Knowledge gives grip to confidence and I advocate for my son, feeling strong and sure in the normalcy of knowing what is best for him.

Steadfast love.

It’s painful to watch him grasp for strength and my heart staggers under the weight of discouragement.

She knows me well and despite my efforts her arms bring the tears flowing.  It feels better than I thought to let the fear out and fall apart.

Steadfast love.

He meets us on the street corner with the kindest and gentlest of words.

“Don’t worry,” he tells my husband, and we see he really means it.  He gives generously and my eyes fill once again with gratitude for this man who has continually blessed our family again and again and again.

I am humbled and so grateful.

Steadfast love.

The waited on words are offered casually and its anticlimactic as we cautiously grasp hope.

No cancer.

No further treatments needed.

“I see no reason he should not have a full recovery.”

Really?!

Steadfast love.

A weight falls off our shoulders and breath comes easier.

For the first time in days I see light.

I wake up to the video and I smile the biggest smile.  It’s my little boy grinning his crooked little smile and high fiving Daddy with his right hand!  The side that’s been weakened since surgery.

Steadfast love.

So much joy with one small milestone!

They keep coming and coming.

First kick,

first reach,

first grasp of my finger,

first step,

first bite.

So many reasons to be grateful.

Steadfast love.

I talk to them on the phone and they are bubbling over with happiness and news.

“I miss you, Mommy.”

“I miss you, too.”

And then she goes on with what Nana said, what Papa did, what happened at school…

I smile the biggest smile as I listen to her happy voice.

They are safe and happy, even though they are so far from me.

They have found their people and they know who they belong with right now.

How do we deserve to be loved so unconditionally and fully?

Steadfast love.

It’s our first weekend home!

We get a pass!

I am ecstatic and my heart actually skips a beat as we drive into our small town.

It’s so beautiful and green everywhere!

We’ve been gone a month and so much has changed.

Life everywhere.

I drink in the green trees, the breeze on my face as it blows off the bay, the sight of my children all playing together in the back yard.

Steadfast love.

Life has changed, and I miss the way it used to be.

But in it all, I am so grateful.

And I know…

In the journey there is beauty,

growth,

redemption,

and always…

Steadfast love.

-AF

 

Plan A Adoption

I have been trying to post this blog for weeks now, but I was having so much trouble trying to get it just right.

Trying to say it just the right way.

Because it matters SO much to me!

But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to sum up everything stored in my heart about this issue, so I finally gave up and decided to just post it as it is.  Please forgive the errors or the places where I stumble all over someone’s toes.  I really don’t mean to!  Here goes nothing!

***

Despite my HUGE skepticism of ‘telling our story’, I do want to share with you a bit about how we ended up where we are in the world of adoption and foster care.  It’s been an adventure of faith and God has done incredible things for us along the way.  My husband and I are both passionate about adoption and foster care since it has played such a huge role in our lives and hearts, but ultimately it is a passion that has grown and matured over time through God’s Voice speaking to us through His Word, other people and lots of reading material 🙂

Just so we’re honest and have everything ‘on the table’, even though I love talking about adoption and foster care, I also dread these conversations.

Here’s why:

1) When you talk about adoption or foster care being apart of your family, many people get that look in their eyes where they mentally dissociate and go…”Wow, that’s not for me.”  Or they might say things like:

“That is so amazing!  That’s a very special calling.”  (I’m not that special, people.  I’m actually pretty normal and most of the kids out there waiting for homes aren’t waiting for special.  They’re waiting for something pretty normal.)

Or maybe, “So can’t you have kids of your own?”

And then there are the people that take a step back and say things like…

“CAS?  Yeah…I used to work for them.  Never again!  Did you hear about that girl in foster care who killed a little kid?  It was all over the news!”  (True story.  I stood there speechless at the sarcasm and malice laced in her tone.  Really?!  There are still people around who say things like this out loud?  Thank goodness I didn’t have any of my kids with me!  How do you respond to that well?)

2) I have no interest in my family…especially my kids…being the next big ‘news’ topic.  For us, this is not news.  This is our life.  It is important to me that my children’s story is treated with respect.  This means I do not like to share details about my children’s past, their family dysfunctions, or their personal difficulties…just as you don’t discuss your children’s painful, difficult moments with others.  This goes for adoptive and foster children.  It is not important that everyone know exactly how and why our children have come to us.  Sometimes people may need to know these or other details, but most of the time it is simply curiosity.  If caught between protecting and affirming my child or satisfying someone’s curiosity, my child will win every time!  I am hoping to learn to do that gracefully without offending others, but please help us by not asking inappropriate questions.

3) Pride.  Yes, pride.  It can make me feel good to tell you my story.  It can make me forget that it’s really not my story at all.  It can tempt me to take credit for decisions and events that were not orchestrated by me, but by my Heavenly Father.  He has planted all the love, all the joy and all the inspiration.  This is His work, not mine.  Every time I tell our story…I want to make sure that you go away knowing it is really God’s story.  It is Him alone that deserves any honour or glory that may come.  It is Him who will take care of all the questions and fears others may bring.  I don’t need to have all the answers because it’s about obedience, trust, and choosing to believe His voice above all else.

So many times I find myself standing there wondering how in the world I am supposed to respond or explain that I am not in this thing because I’m a saint.

I am not in this thing because I think all these kids are cute and cuddly and it gives me warm fuzzies.  (They’re not and it doesn’t…though we get a few of those moments, too.)

I am not in this thing because it’s easy.

I am not in this thing because my husband and I couldn’t have children biologically.

I am not in this thing because of ME!

Now, I understand that many people’s comments are not meant to be invasive or insensitive…and I need to work on extending as much grace as I expect when I fumble my way through a conversation about something I know nothing about!  Working on that.  However, it does give you a bit of a lonely, sick sort of feeling in your stomach when you walk away from a conversation and realize you completely failed to convey the passion, reality and importance of the topic you care about so deeply!  In our world, it is not just a conversation about a social issue.  It is personal.  We have faces and names that will be engraved on our hearts forever.  So please forgive us when we over react or respond negatively to an innocent question or comment.

So….

With all that between us, let me share our story 🙂

For us, adoption was always Plan A.

My husband and I have been married for 4 years.  As far as we know, we are able to have children biologically, and may or may not add to our family naturally in the future.  That is not our decision, but God’s.  Giving Him control of our dreams and desires surrounding our family is at the core of this journey, and an ongoing act of surrender.

I have been interested in foster care and adoption for as long as I can remember.  Being the passionate, idealistic dreamer that I am, the social issues of child abuse, neglect, poverty and addictions quickly captured my attention.  I also had people in my life whom I was able to observe who were foster and adoptive families, and from a very young age I decided that was what I wanted to do.  At this point my tender heart was simply yearning to swoop in and rescue these innocents, playing the grand heroin of the story.  It felt like a noble adventure.  One where happily ever after came quickly and everything was painted black and white through my naïve lens.

As I matured and learned more about the realities and challenges surrounding foster care and adoption, I realized it was not quite as simple as I had first thought.  I did, however, still feel very strongly that this was something I wanted to do.  In the next years I had experiences in my life that grew this passion with leaps and bounds.  Looking back, I can say confidently they were planned by my Heavenly Father, nudging me forward toward His goal.  I began a relationship with my husband, fell in love with many children and starting seeing the hoops I would need to jump through in order to reach my dream of fostering and adopting.  Thankfully, alongside the growing realization of the challenges, misconceptions and fears that were thrown at me from every angle came the steady, consistent, assuring Voice of God.

Kirby and I started talking about adoption and foster care about a month or two into our relationship.  At that point he had really never considered it at all, but was more than willing to listen patiently and open his heart to the possibility.  It is funny to think about this time because looking back I vaguely recall his hesitations and questions, but if you spoke to him now you would quickly realize he is a strong, passionate advocate for adoption and foster care.  I can hardly remember when it was just me, spouting out my feelings and passions and sobbing with the weight of my one big question.  If I didn’t do this…if God didn’t call me…who would go?  What would I do with the gigantic burden that pressed on my heart if God said no?  I knew God didn’t need ME…but I also didn’t see many people stepping up to the plate.  When I tried to talk to people about how I felt, I heard questions.  I heard fears.  I heard…it’s hard.  But I didn’t hear a lot of people saying…YES!  This is right!  This is good!  This is God’s heart!  I will go.

Despite what many people may think, the Bible is full of confirmations that God is interested in adoption and foster care.  God loves children, wants us to protect and care for orphans, and is very interested in us going the extra mile to serve others.  These are some passages that became very special to me as Kirby and I began wading through the hard questions about adoption and foster care.  I am amazed how already in the Old Testament, when God was primarily focused on His chosen people, Israel, He commanded them to love and care for those who were outside the protection of His family.

“A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation.  God setteth the solitary in families.” Psalm 68:5-6

“Thou shalt open thine hand wide unto thy brother, to thy poor, and to thy needy, in thy land.” Deuteronomy 15:11

“For the Lord your God is God of gods, and Lord lords, a great God, a mighty, and a terrible, which regardeth not persons, nor taketh reward: he doth execute the judgment of the fatherless and widow, and loveth the stranger, in giving him food and raiment.  Love ye therefore the stranger: for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt.” Deuteronomy 10:17-19

“You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, so that mere mortals will never again strike terror.” Psalm 10: 17-18

“Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed.  Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.” Psalm 82:3-4

 

Journeying into the gospels and seeing how Jesus treated children, we see a love so deep and tender.  I love the picture of Jesus’ physical body holding, smiling and loving the children who were brought to Him.  In a time and society where children were not valued as we are accustomed to today, it must have spoken powerfully to these little ones to be treated with such gentleness and joy.

“And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me.” Matthew 18:5

“And they brought young children to Him, that He should touch them: and his disciples rebuked those that brought them.  But when Jesus saw it, He was much displeased, and said unto them, Let the little children come to me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God…and He took them up in His arms, put His hands upon them, and blessed them.” Mark 10:13-16

 

Jesus also taught radical love for others and that has been the driving force behind our decision to pursue adoption and foster care.

“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.” James 1:27

“For this is the message we have heard from the beginning, that we should love one another…But whoso hath this world’s goods, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion, how dwelleth the love of God in him?  My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth.” 1 John 3: 11, 17

“Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was hungry, and you gave me meat: I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink: I was a stranger, and you took me in: naked, and you clothed me…Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.” Matthew 25: 34-40

“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own donkey, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him…Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do likewise.” Luke 10:23-37

 

And last of all…each one of us who has been born again into the family of God has been adopted!  We, out of nothing we have done, have received a loving Father who has chosen to extend his grace to us and redeem us from the loneliness and darkness of sin.  He did not decide it was too hard, despite the fact that we would reject Him.  He did not decide it was too painful, even though He experienced very real, undeniable pain!  He did not decide we were not worth it, despite our sinfulness and utter desolation.  No.  He chose to love us, bring us into his family, and make us His children.  Ultimately, that is the picture we are duplicating as we bring children into the shelter, love and protection of our families through adoption and foster care.

“But when the fullness of time was come, God sent forth his son, made of a woman, made under the law, to redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons.” Galatians 4:4

 

In the earliest days, the primary hurdles were spiritual and emotional.  We needed to hear God’s Voice affirming we were on the right track.  We needed to sense His presence there beside us and know that He would complete the work He was beginning in our hearts.  We needed to get our families on board and know that we had their support, which sent them on their own journeys to discover God’s will.  This took a lot of time and prayer, and was not always easy.  There were days we felt very alone.  There were days we felt confused and frightened.  There were days we wanted to race ahead of God’s timing.  There were big questions to grapple.  Sometimes God gave us answers to those questions, and sometimes He simply urged us to obey Him and trust Him.  We still don’t have all the answers to those questions, but we are confident when the time comes…if the time comes…God will be faithful to provide us with the strength and grace we need.  In the middle of these struggles there were many hard, honest conversations.  Though at the time I felt they pulled me down, I know that they were also a part of God’s plan.  The feelings of loneliness, the fears, the hurt…drove me to God’s Word where over and over again I found affirmation and the strength to keep moving forward.  He was there.

We…correction I…did a lot of reading during this time. 🙂  We wanted to know all our options.  I have a great resource called The Christian Family’s Guide to Adoption that helped get us started.  It’s a great tool to educate yourself on the three main adoption options (public, international or domestic), the pros and cons to each and the steps needed to proceed.  It’s an American resource, so a few things are different here in Canada, but it’s a great general outline of the process.  It also dispels a lot of the myths people have about adoption.  I also read every adoption/foster care story I could get my hands on, dug into resources tackling the challenges of adoption/fostering and bumped into just the right people at just the right times.  It was amazing the way God provided me with conversations, radio broadcasts (Focus on the Family), Bible verses and books to answer the questions I faced just when I needed them.

The next step was the physical part of moving forward.  We were aware right from the beginning that in order to become adoptive or foster parents we would need to have been married for at least 2 years.  However, we were anxious to move ahead and wanted to at least ‘get our foot in the door.’  So we’d only been married about 6 months the first time we knocked on the door of our local Children’s Aid Society and explained our intentions.  We met a woman that day who would play a huge role in our lives for the next few years, though we didn’t know it at that time!  She explained to us the process (most of which we were aware of) and told us to be in contact again once we had reached that 2 year mark.  She also told us that day that our local society did not currently have the foster-to-adopt program we were familiar with other people doing.  At this point we were mainly focused on adoption, not foster care, and had kind of decided that would be a nice in between way to approach things.  However, we were told at this point that would not be an option.  We could either do just adoption, where we would need to wait to be matched with a child and then proceed, which could take years…or we could become foster parents while we waited to be matched with a child for adoption.  Well…that was easy.  Wait with nothing to do, or wait with kids in our home?  No problem! 🙂

After that little meeting we were back to the waiting game for another 1.5 years.  During this time I did lots more reading, completed my teaching position at a local private school, started a home daycare and spent heaps of time with kids of all ages and needs.  God blessed us with some very special little kids in this time that helped shape our hearts for the challenges we would be faced with down the road.  We realized we could love special needs kids, and that my passion and idealism made me a great advocator for their needs.  We got lots of practise dealing with behaviours, the 24/7 reality of parenthood and exposing kids to the gospel.  We realized what it meant to pour out our hearts and lives for families and children who were not our own.  We realized what it meant to offer grace, both to the kids we loved and their parents.  We realized what it felt like to fail miserably.

We needed that time.

It strengthened our resolve, humbled our pride and braced us for reality.

We were, in the end, able to start our home study process before we reached the 2 years of marriage mark.  Four months before our second anniversary we officially began.  A home study is an assessment of your home and family to consider whether or not you are capable of caring for children from hard places.  It involves some paper work, a training course called PRIDE, interviews in and out of your home and some anxiety.  It’s nerve wracking having someone analyze every part of your life, but it is also good to have to wade through all the parts that have made you who you are.  Despite what we like to believe, we bring all our baggage into every relationship we enter, including those with kids.  Luckily we had a really wonderful woman completing our home study who was gentle, a great listener and easy to talk to.

Our home study took FOREVER!

Ok, not forever.  But a long time.  WAY TOO LONG for this girl!  I do not wait well.  I tried to wait well, I really did, because I just knew that God was trying to teach me to wait, and I just wanted this to be over so I really, really, really tried hard to succeed with this waiting thing.  Sigh.  In the end it took ten months.  It was a long summer!

By the time November rolled around, I was pretty dejected.  We had started in January.  I was so anxious to start this thing!  We were doing NOTHING and I knew there were so many kids out there who needed homes!  I still really have no idea what took so long, but I began praying that we would get our first foster care placement before Christmas.  Like serious praying.  Begging, in other words.  My sister even prayed it too…because I have an awesome sister who, by the way, had to listen to every little bit of this journey from start to end a thousand times over and still loves me! 🙂  XOXO Amberley, I love you!!!!  Thanks for being the other half of my heart.  It is such a relief not to have to explain things sometimes.  🙂

So anyway, a few weeks into November, before our foster care home study was officially approved…we got that call.  “Would you take a 5 week old baby?”

WOULD I TAKE A BABY?!?

ARE YOU SERIOUS!?!?

WOULD I TAKE A BABY!?!?

I literally called Kirby at work sobbing and laughing at the same time.  I couldn’t believe we were finally there.

Thus, our foster care adventure began!  Christmas of 2012 we spent on cloud 9, adoring our Christmas miracle baby.  We brought him home from the hospital, where he had spent the first 5 weeks of his life due to prenatal drug exposure.  We loved that little one with every ounce we could muster.  That first tiny little baby stole our hearts and absolutely took our breath away.  I totally forgot to brace myself for the letting go…which happened 6 weeks later and totally crushed me.  I will never forget that pain.

But still…we knew.

This was what we were called to do.

This was worth it.

See, that little boy deserved to be adored just like that for those 6 weeks, no matter how painful it was to let him go…and amazingly enough, the pain does go away.  It dulls and it fades a bit…and the joy is the memory that stays vivid.

During the next year and a half, we fostered 8 different children, most of those short term or relief placements.  Some of them only stayed for a weekend before they moved on, but each of them were valuable little souls we feel honoured to have loved, if only for a day.

We had two little boys, ages 2 and 4, who stayed with us for 10 months of that time.  They changed our lives.  I still get an ache in my chest thinking of them.  It’s been five months since they left and I can still feel the weight of their bodies in my arms, see their smiles and hear their voices in my house.

I miss them.

One of those 8 children sent us on a journey we didn’t know we could survive.  We spent 2.5 weeks at Sick Kids with him, watching him struggle to survive and recuperate from a complicated heart surgery.  Another child carried us into the world of Autism, and I am officially a wizard with PECS!  🙂  (Seriously…if you know anything about PECS call me up because I am just in love with those things!  Me and speech therapy are like two peas in a pod!)  We had a newborn, we had a 9 year old.  We learned more than I could ever sum up in a few sentences from those 8 children, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  I wouldn’t trade a second.

It also helped us get a clearer…or maybe more hazy…picture in our minds of the kind of child we felt we could parent.  It’s important to realize that just because every child needs a family, doesn’t mean you are qualified to be that family!  But it’s also important to realize that just because a child has some challenges that may look huge to you, does not mean God is not calling you to see them through His eyes.

Every child is valuable.

Every child deserves a family.

As Christians, we should be the ones willing to sacrifice our own comfort and idea of perfection.

Maybe my kids won’t be the cutest,

or the smartest,

or the most athletic,

or socially ‘successful’ in other people’s eyes.

In fact,

they might spend every day of their lives just struggling to get that C-.

They might fight against the long term consequences of their biological parents’ choices for the rest of their lives, even to the point of needing my assistance to live independently as a 30 or 40 year old.

They might be social misfits.

They might have behaviours that make them hard to love.

But they are valuable and they are lovable.

So if all you care about is a perfect family picture, straight A report cards and children everyone else will understand and love…adoption maybe isn’t for you.  But you know what?  I am idealistic and optimistic enough to believe that there are many more people out there who are willing to sacrifice those things to be Jesus’ hands and feet for these kids!  I think there are more people who will be able to lay aside their selfish pursuits to make a difference in the life of a child and the Kingdom of Heaven.

In January of 2013 we were officially approved for adoption, but were knee deep in foster care.  This brought some challenges.  We loved fostering, but we also were anxious to find the children who would be ours forever.  I don’t even know how to explain how God lead us through the next year.  We continued to foster, saying yes one child at a time.  We also began attending the Adoption Counsel of Ontario Education Day and the Adoption Resource Exchange in Toronto.  We were searching for our forever children, even though we knew we couldn’t do both foster care and adoption at the same time.

The A.R.E. is held twice a year (once in the Spring and once in the Fall) in Toronto at the Metro Convention Centre.  This is an event open to the public, and I would encourage anyone to attend!  Many, many agencies throughout Ontario attend this event, each bringing profiles of children within their region they have not been able to find homes for locally.  Many of these children need to be placed out of their local area for safety reasons, are part of a sibling group, or have medical or emotional needs making it difficult to place them.  These children are all considered special needs, but that could mean they are siblings, above the age of 5, have had trauma in their past or have allergies.

These kids are not unlovable!

If you are a family with an approved adoption home study, you can fill out expression of interest forms for any children you would like to learn more about.  Anyone can also talk to the adoption workers presenting the children’s profiles and learn more about them and what the process would look like to adopt them.  EVERY SINGLE CHILD presented at the A.R.E. is legally free for adoption and waiting for a forever family.  If you’re interested, there is also a website you can become a member of, AdoptOntario, which is a website displaying more profiles of children available for adoption in Ontario.

Right now in Canada, there are more than 30 000 children legally free for adoption in foster care, waiting for a family who will love them enough to give them forever.

To put this in perspective, if merely 10% of evangelical Christians in Canada adopted 1 child, all those children would be looking at a future that includes a family of their own.

What would Jesus do?

What would He say?

Would He care?

The Children’s Aid Society is doing the best they can with the funding and resources provided to them by the government.  No, they are not perfect…but to be fair…nobody is.  Originally, the Children’s Aid Society was run by the church, not the government.  In fact, throughout history it has always been the church who stepped forward to care for orphans.  Until now, of course.  Now we seem to think it’s someone else’s job to do.  This was our baby.  We dropped the ball.  So before we get too upset for the things the government is doing wrong…please remember these are not society’s children.  These are God’s children.  And if that is true…I can only think of one group of people responsible for their care.

The body of Christ.

What really put that in perspective for me was seeing profiles of children at the A.R.E. that specifically mentioned a Christian family as the ideal fit for the child.  Wow.

The first time we attended the A.R.E. was in April of 2013.  That is officially the first time we saw our daughters’ profiles.  We talked to their worker that day, saw a video of them, and took home their one page profiles, which we poured over alongside some others for the next 6 months.  We were not in a position to move forward at that time, since we were fostering two little boys.  Kirby, especially, was really drawn to Akeisha and Alexa’s profiles, which caught my attention.  Usually I am the one with the gut feelings and the drive!  To be honest, I was a little apprehensive.  Akeisha and Alexa were 6 and 4 at that time.  Though we were never looking to adopt an infant, I wasn’t sure I was ready to be Mommy to a 6 and 4 year old, either!  But I was really attracted to them, and I trusted Kirby’s instincts on this one.  As the weeks and months went by, I got more and more used to the idea of an ‘older child’ adoption.

By November of that same year, we were preparing to say goodbye to our little boys and attending the A.R.E. for the second time.  After having the boys for 10 months, we were ready to move on.

We wanted a family.

We wanted kids who would stay.

We felt a little wiped out; a little jaded by the pain…because yes, foster care will do that to you.

We had no idea if Akeisha and Alexa were even still available for adoption, so we did some investigating through our adoption worker and found out that they were, indeed, still waiting for a family!  This was exciting news, and we had high hopes going to the A.R.E. that November.

We came home even more enthused!

There were many kids (over 10) we were interested in, and our adoption worker assured us she felt we would be able to follow through with many of those options.  All the workers of the children we’d inquired about were very interested in us!  It felt like everything was falling into place, making our goodbye to our boys easier than it might have been.

The future looked so bright.

Over the next few months, I went through a dark and scary time.  Slowly, one by one, all the doors closed on us.

No.

No.

No.

I didn’t understand.  What was God doing?  Why was this happening?  I felt, for the millionth time, so out of control!  At the same time, I was missing my boys desperately and had no new foster children to distract me from the emptiness.

The only door that remained open…just a crack…was Akeisha and Alexa, now 7 and 5 years old.  We didn’t get a no, but we didn’t get anything!  We couldn’t get through to their adoption worker no matter how hard we tried.  She always seemed to be away.  Our adoption worker was not hopeful that option would work out, considering we had heard next to nothing.  We tried every little crack and hole we could possibly think of, but even I could not manage to get results!  God was making it clear that this was HIS work, not mine.  I would need to trust Him.

Christmas came and went.

I was starting to lose hope anything would change before the next A.R.E. in May of 2014.  That felt like a long time to wait!  We were resolved at this point to pursue adoption, not fostering, since taking another foster child would jeopardize our position of being available for adoption.

Then our foster care worker phoned.

Our local fostering agency was in a crisis.  They were desperately in need of more foster families, especially for babies.  Would we take this one child, on the condition that if something changed and we were able to move forward with adoption he would be moved to a new home?  Though it terrified me to think that this might mean waiting…again, for adoption…we felt like God was saying this was something we needed to do.

So, to be perfectly honest, I moved forward kicking and screaming, with walls built high.  I was determined not to commit too fully to this child.  I was not going to fall in love with those huge, brown eyes.  I was not going to get addicted to the soft baby skin.  I was not going to let that feeling of possession and protection overtake me.  Most importantly, I was going to try to make sure they were looking for a more permanent place for him.  Because if it came right down to it, I desperately wanted to be able to make the decision to have him moved if it meant we could move forward with adoption…and that was something I had never, ever wanted to do.  It went against everything I believed in.

But God had other plans.

Bigger plans.

I did fall in love.  Even when we heard from Akeisha and Alexa’s adoption worker and found out we could move forward!  Even as we went for meetings and fell in love with the girls we knew were going to be ours.  In the middle of it all, I had a choice to make.  Could I trust God to take care of the details and love this little life placed in my hands now?

I did give up and fight with all my might for this precious little life…especially when we traveled with him to Toronto for his heart surgery.  After all…it was not about me, was it?  I could not longer maintain my wall of self protection when I held his hand and watched him fight for every breath.  There was no space for any resistance in my heart as we spent hour after hour at his bedside, waiting for him to open his eyes.  We needed to be there.  God knew what He was doing.  It was far from my dream come true when we got the call that we were officially chosen for Akeisha and Alexa.  I had pictured being ecstatic…and free to just throw myself into excitement for the first time!  But instead, I was in a crowded cafeteria at the Eaton Centre, worrying about my baby two blocks away at the hospital.  I had no idea what we were going to do.  I was overjoyed to be chosen…but the sky was pretty dreary.  I couldn’t see how it was all going to work.  I felt like a traitor to our little boy, while at the same time knowing there were two little girls who desperately needed and deserved our commitment as well!

This little one’s story is still unfolding, as he is now in the care of my brother and sister-in-law while we move forward with adopting our daughters, Akeisha and Alexa.  (Long, amazing story :))

While we were in Toronto we got the final yes for our adoption, and we got the final yes that my brother and sister-in-law would take the little one we were caring for, and we watched the prayers of the saints lift one precious little boy to our Heavenly Father.

It was overwhelming.

It was a test of obedience.

It was beautiful.

Now, it’s June 2014.

We have spent the past two months visiting our daughters, Akeisha and Alexa.  They live a few hours away from us, so we have been doing lots of traveling back and forth.  They will be moving into our home permanently in the next month sometime, and we are…well…

we are over the moon with excitement!

We are terrified.

We are trusting and obeying one step at a time.

Thanks to God’s perfect timing, we are more ready than we have ever been.

Our girls are by far the best thing that has ever happened to us.  Despite some overwhelming emotions, they are excited to be moving to a forever family they can rightfully, possessively call their OWN!  The four of us together are the happiest place in the world right now 🙂  All my dreams are coming true…but as usual, not in the flowery, hazy way we imagine them but with simple, funny, gut wrenching reality that I wouldn’t change for the world!  It’s not perfect, but it’s good.  It’s not easy, but it’s right.  God has been so good to us.  Knowing our daughters are stepping into a realm of light spread by the workers of the Heavenly Kingdom, I am filled with confidence.

“He which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” Philllipians 1:6

AF

 

 

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