Tag: hope

Finding Hope in Foster Care

“I feel like the wins are just so hard to come by,” I said to her, my voice breaking a bit on the grief that flooded through me with those words. She nodded, heart in her eyes. I didn’t have to explain this to her. She knows all too well.

I know why I do this-foster care, that is.

I have a foundation that is rock solid…mostly.

But when the goodbyes pile up, disappointment and disillusionment launch right into that vulnerable cavern and nest deep in my heart.

What is the point?

The system is impossibly broken.

No one will listen to us.

Ultimately people who have never met this child will make life-altering decisions for all of us. The child, their biological family, me, my husband and even my children.

It’s so unfair.

Does what I do make any difference?

We tried to protect her, but now our hands are tied. We make the hard call, and then we sit back in the impossibly sad reality of her story. We sit as helpless bystanders on the edge of our seats watching her fall, fall, fall. One by one the safeguards we’ve put in place fall away and she’s left terrifyingly vulnerable to her own devices and coping mechanisms. Our limited capacity has never felt more like a betrayal than now.

I’ve mothered him for two years, nurturing him through the chaos and confusion and achingly slow progress of healing and advocating for all of his needs, but now suddenly he is pulled from under my wings. Nobody asks me if this is best. Everyone knows it isn’t. Nobody says the words that keep me awake late at night…what if he will not be ok? When the time comes, it is me who has to deliver the heartbreaking truth and hold his small body as he sobs into my chest. I feel emptier and more broken than I ever thought possible. I must become the betrayer. Over and over and over again as he begs not to go, for me not to leave. I really wanted to be his Mommy. I thought that I was. Who am I now to this child?

It’s only been a few weeks, but it’s been weeks of holding, holding, holding. Rocking, singing, bathing and delighting in every perfect feature of his personhood. It was us who walked the hospital hallways cradling his tense little body tight. It was us who brought him into his first home and watched every little twitch and grimace he made as he slept in the safe warmth of our tiny nursery. His first Christmas, first smile, first full night of sleep, first tummy ache, first walk, first toy…the firsts could go on and on. The goodbye is quick and devastating and sharp enough to take my breath away. I stumble through blinding tears out the door without him. Forever.

All of these and more pile up and I relive the pain of each one every time we say goodbye. Can I keep doing this? Justice and truth feel so far from this realm. Am I the good guy or the bad guy in this story? Nothing feels clear.

“You are not the story, you are only a part of the story.”

The words resonate deep and I breathe in the calm and peace they bring.

“Your season of service and faithfulness and pouring out may be over, but He is not done yet. He will not leave her or forsake her. His promises are as true today as they have always been.”

With truth, comes hope.

Hope – that the model of unconditional love, grace and mutual respect she has witnessed in our home will guide her toward healthy relationships, safe environments and truth.

Hope – that the leaps and bounds of development he made while in our care will carry him on into a bright future of literacy, independence and ability to communicate with the world around him.

Hope – that the hours and hours of gentle touches and cradling and singing and praying over his sweet, tiny head will bear the fruits of attachment and nourishment and health.

Hope – that the advocating I have done will set him and his new family up for succcess, despite the odds.

Hope – that the gospel will have found it’s root deep within her heart and that His word will not return void, but will instead bear a harvest that is glorious in due season.

#Isaiah 55:11

Hope – that the speech therapy and hours and hours of time spent side by side playing on the floor will give him a foundation of language that will enable him to communicate and to be seen and known for the beautiful boy that he is.

Hope – that this brief time in foster care will alleviate the stress in her birth family and that she will grow up in the care of her biological mom, unaware of the fleeting season she was ours.

Hope – that even in the saying of our no, our hardest no, that she would understand a love that is higher and deeper and wider than anything that she can imagine.

Hope – that the skills we have developed and the growth that He has procured in our hearts will flood forward and benefit the ones we have and the ones to come.

Hope – that the placing of his tiny life into the gentle arms of dear family members and friends, will carry him forward into a future where he will be loved and always wanted.

Hope – that the telling of their stories will bury the shame and give them confidence to embrace all that is theirs.

Hope – that our resting will bring strength and energy to bring into a new season before us.

Hope – that the hours and hours of training and rewiring our brains to think, act, speak and see differently will make us better, gentler, more skilled parents to the children in our home now and in the future.

Hope – that allowing the grief to swallow us at times will refine our hearts to love more purely and unselfishly and without thought of all that is to be sacrificed.

Hope – that exposure to these children and their families will bring our permanent members appreciation for what is theirs, compassion for those around them, life skills and character.

Hope – that in our greatest moments of weakness His strength will be magnified and made perfect.

#2 Corinthians 12:9

Hope – that He who began a good work will be faithful to complete it, if not in this time span of our lives then in the broader, grander, incomprehendable vastness of the story that is His and His alone.

#Philipians 1:6

“I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.”

#Jeremiah 29:11

-AF

Pro Life Meets Grace

I wrote a post a few days ago entitled “Every Life Matters.”

In it I shared my passion for the pro life movement and my firm belief that life begins at conception.

I believe everything I said but it left me with an unsettled feeling that I couldn’t shake. Something just didn’t sit well in my heart.

Was it fear of how others would label me? Discomfort at placing myself so entirely in an unpopular camp? The Spirit’s promptings of the airs of self righteousness that trickled through my words?

Those things for sure, but there was more.

I finally realized, it felt unfinished and unsettling because it was.

This was only half of the story.

I firmly believe that life begins at conception and that from the very first second that life should be protected, advocated for and fought for.

But I also believe that being pro life means advocating for, protecting and fighting for the lives of women, not just babies.

It means not ignoring the stories of the women who feel abortion is their only option, and allowing those stories to drive us to hard questions.

It means advocating for real, viable solutions and accessible support for women struggling with mental health issues.

It means supporting local pregnancy centers in their goal to give women support emotionally, physically and spiritually whether or not they choose to carry out their pregnancy to term.

It means crossing social, economic and racial barriers to reach the hearts of women living out realities I don’t understand or cannot identify with personally.

It means fighting for laws that will offer protection and healing for vulnerable women.

It means grieving with them.

It means listening to their stories and not offering unsolicited advice or uneducated options.

It means offering truth, grace and support to women who have chosen abortion in the past or are choosing abortion now.

It means choosing words and actions that bestow dignity and value on women who are considering abortion.

It means raising young men of integrity who will treat the women in their lives with respect, dignity and honor.

It means surrounding our daughters with both men and women who will protect, empower and validate them to live out their fullest potential.

It means supporting struggling mothers, getting involved in foster care, providing permanency for children who need to leave their first families.

It means grace.

Grace that humbly admits I have few answers to the difficult situations women find themselves in leading up to this decision.

Grace that acknowledges we live in an imperfect, marred world where sin and darkness berate, abuse and destroy.

Grace that sees my own brokenness, fragility and sin.

Grace that covers, forgives and redeems.

Pro Life meets Grace when Jesus enters the scene.

Jesus offers us life abundant, regardless of the wreckage of our lives.

He infuses hope, courage, resiliency and beauty into our mess.

As a Jesus follower, and a pro life advocate, this is the message I want to carry.

~AF

10 Reasons To Adopt

 

In our home…

This means we are spending time praying for children waiting for families.  We are praying that God would bring them their forever families and that other specific needs in their lives would be met.  There are three little ones specifically whom God has laid on our hearts for quite some time now that we have been praying a bright and hopeful future over, expectantly and eagerly awaiting His answer.

Here in Ontario…

This means that public agencies will be focusing more on permanency and presenting available children’s profiles at numerous adoption events across the province.  Hundreds of waiting adoptive families will attend these events and view profiles of children waiting for forever families.  Many families and children will be matched and begin their adoption journey!

Today, I want to give you ten reasons to consider adoption.

1. YOU CARE.

The fact that you are reading this post says that you care

2. THERE ARE 153 MILLION ORPHANS AND VULNERABLE CHILDREN AROUND THE WORLD.

Every willing heart is needed!  We need more than just a few people who are ‘called’ to this mission.  As the church of Jesus Christ we have a huge opportunity to change the landscape of our culture today and to raise up a new generation of loved and chosen peoples.

3. ADOPTION SAVES LIVES AND CELEBRATES THE SANCTITY OF LIFE.

There are millions of orphans around the world caught in extreme poverty.  The need is so great!  Children are dying; many of diseases and circumstances that are well within our ability as a blessed people to change!  We have access to medical care, food and fresh water that some children will never see in their current conditions.  Closer to home, there are millions of abortions taking place in our country every year.  Those who choose to give life to their children are brave!  Adoption gives them hope.

4. ADOPTION GIVES YOU AN OPPORTUNITY TO BREAK A NEGATIVE FAMILY CYCLE AND CHANGE THE WORLD 1 CHILD AT A TIME!  

These children are paying the price of choices the adults in their life have made.  Through no fault of their own they’ve been thrust into the middle of what is many times a generational cycle of abuse, neglect, poverty and addiction.  By choosing adoption you choose to break that cycle for a child and give them an opportunity to experience a healthy family environment.

5. ADOPTION IS AFFORDABLE.

In Canada and the U.S. you can adopt for very little cost through the foster care system and even apply for grants to cover the expenses of treatment, medical needs, etc.

6. CHILDREN WITHOUT PERMANENT FAMILIES FACE CHALLENGES THEY WOULDN’T IN A STABLE FAMILY.

Children without stable family lives find it difficult to thrive in school or in life in general.  They often feel very alone and have no one to advocate for the help and resources they need to grow and learn.

7. THESE CHILDREN ARE OUR FUTURE.

In twenty years these will be the grown ups of our society.  Without a family to nurture and guide them, many will end up without a home, education or support system.  Many will also end up in our criminal justice system.  Their struggles do not minimize over time.

8. LOVE IS A CHOICE.

You may not fall in love with an adoptive child upon first sight…but love is a choice.  Love is not about fuzzy warm feelings.  Love is the reality that you are committed to someone, for better or for worse, for the rest of their life.  And once you put these choices into action…you will absolutely feel love for your adopted child!

9. HUNDREDS OF CHILDREN WILL AGE OUT OF THE FOSTER SYSTEM THIS YEAR WITHOUT A FOREVER FAMILY!  

The government is working hard to support these kids with services and assistance through age 21, but government support does not replace family.   These kids need families to support them through life and to celebrate their accomplishments.  They need a place to spend Christmas and someone to call when life throws them curveballs.  They need role models and financial advisors and the reassurance that someone has their back.

10. EVERY CHILD DESERVES THE CHANCE TO HAVE A FAMILY TO CALL THEIR OWN—FOREVER.

Emmanuel

Emmanuel.

God with us.

It’s the theme that keeps playing on the screen of my heart this Christmas.

I sit in church on Christmas Eve morning and feel the words seep into my soul.

God with us.

Emmanuel.

The manger scene on my bookshelf, set out at the beginning of Advent, sits as a quiet testament to the Truth of it.

A tiny baby is snuggled in the manger carved of porcelain, surrounded by witnesses of the glorious moment when the world was forever changed.

Through the raw, undignified labor of childbirth God came to us.

On that first Christmas night he found His home in a barn, the breath and body heat of animals filling the air with a sweet, musty odour.

The gentle movements of cattle rustling in the straw were the backdrop to one young woman’s delivery.

“And she brought forth her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, for there was no room for them in the inn.”  Luke 2:7

Just like that, God entered the world He had created and sought out the hearts of humanity as He always does.

A young woman and her humble husband,

shepherds working in the fields nearby,

the townspeople of a small town in Judah called  Bethlehem,

the king of a mighty empire,

an elderly woman and man in the temple in Jerusalem,

men from the far east.

God here with us for one purpose;

to redeem the brokenness and seek out the hearts of His beloved creation.

Emmanuel, God with us.

Suddenly, there was hope.

I look back over the past year and it’s those words that ring in my ears.

“God with us.”

He was,

he is,

and he will be.

Steadfast love.

“Never stopping, never giving up, unbreaking, always and forever love.”                               -The Jesus Storybook Bible

DSCF4758

I watch my children’s eyes as my husband walks them through the Christmas story, the porcelain figures in their hands as we recount the events of that first celebration of Jesus’ birth over 2000 years ago.

I see it’s like a story to them.

They don’t understand yet, but someday they will see it;

this Emmanuel feeling…God with us.

So much humility and gratitude in the realization.

God here with us in the mess of our lives,

delighting in our little acts of worship to Him.

We sing Happy Birthday to Jesus and blow out the candle.

My daughter wonders how many cand

les should really be there, and her brow furrows in concentration as I try to explain that there was never a beginning.

I peel back the wrappings on the large wooden plaque and I see a map of the world painted on the rough wooden slabs.

My husband smiles at my delight and I study the span of it.

We point out to the children where we are and where their aunt is, clear across the expanse of the map in Australia.

This one world that seems so huge to us, but is such a tiny dot in the eye of that one God who entered into it.

Emmanuel.

One of my favourite Christmas songs com

es on and I close my eyes and take a moment to settle in it.

God Is With Us

The skies don’t seem to be as dark as usual
The stars seem brighter than they’ve been before
Deep within I feel my soul a stirring
As though my hope has been restored
The shepherds say they’ve heard the voice of angels
Confirming rumors spread across the land
That a child protected well from Herod’s anger
Is our father’s son, and the son of man

Love is raining down on the world tonight
There’s a presence here I can tell
God is in us, God is for us, God is with us, Emmanuel

He’s the savior we have been praying for
In our humble hearts he will dwell

God is in us, God is for us, God is with us, Emmanuel

I feel compelled to tell all who will listen
That peace on earth is not so out of reach
If we can find grace, mercy and forgiveness
He has come to save, he is all of these

You’re the savior we have been praying for
In our humble hearts you will dwell

You are in us, you are for us

You are with us,

Emmanuel

~Casting Crowns

It’s true.

Emmanuel means He has come down here to us.

God is in us.

He is for us.

He is the hope we can hang our heartstrings on and know, without a doubt, that He will be able to hold the weight of all of us and our world.

~AF

 

 

 

Grief

I woke up with a start and reached for my phone.

3:22 am.

Flopping back on the pillow I rolled over and tried to get comfortable but my chest felt tight and my mind was fully alert.

Memories I wanted to forget flooded in and I winced, closing my eyes tight to black out the image of my baby on a hospital bed.  Gritty, unsettling details played on the screen of my mind.  Black and white words on a page, our surgeon’s face smiling kindly at me and my son’s still body.

My ears strained for sounds through the halls as I got up to get a drink.  I wanted to go to their doors and peek inside like I do sometimes, just to listen to their breathing and make sure everyone was ok, but I shook it off, feeling silly.

We’d been home from the hospital with our son for three weeks.  The crisis was past and the prognosis was great.

But my heart was staggering to hold the weight of reality.

What had just happened?

For over a month we had lived under the shock of our son’s sudden diagnoses, surgery and recovery.  We had gone from one crisis and milestone to the next, pushing forward toward healing.

We kept going because we had to.

There was no time to sit back and process.

No time to take in the what ifs.

There was too much to do to allow the fear to creep in.

But now, with quietness all around me and the comfort of my own bed beneath me I felt my heart race.

All the fears and the what ifs came crashing in around me.

I had almost lost my son.

How had life made a turn so quickly?

How had I lost the innocence I lived with before?

I wanted so badly to just keep going.  To pick up where we had left off and continue on as if it had never happened.

But I couldn’t.

Because I had changed.

As much as I wanted to be able to go on and forget, I couldn’t shake the brokenness that I felt inside.

My friend’s kind eyes and gentle words came back to me.  She had been sitting there on my couch, staring straight at me on just the right day.

“And how are you?” She had asked, after I gave my usual glowing report of Karter’s latest accomplishments and the goals he was meeting.

The laundry I was folding knotted in my hands and I felt the tears rush in.  It was just one of those days…and she knew this story oh so well.

It had only been a few short years since I’d been at her bedside as she fought against the unexpected.

It’s ok to take some time to grieve.

Grieve?

It felt strange.

We were all fine!

We were so grateful and humbled at the goodness we had experienced.

I felt like all I could rightly feel was gratitude and joy.

I had my baby here at home with me, sleeping peacefully in his crib.

The future looked bright.

I thought of 7 year old Jack and his mom; of tiny little Aden, both of whom were still where we had last seen them, and wouldn’t be going home anytime soon.  Their scenarios were so much worse than our own.

How could I grieve when I had so much to be thankful for?

And yet…

I felt let down.

I felt scared and hurt.

I felt like I had lost something precious to me.

Sometimes I had to avert my eyes from my son’s somber gaze, or from his teary cries.

I felt like I was going to break if I let myself take in the possibility that he might be remembering too.

I didn’t want to go out and see anyone.  I didn’t know how long I could continue to hold it together and paste on a smile that was fitting for the ‘God is so good’ conversation.  It wasn’t that I didn’t believe it.  It was just that there was so much more depth than just a bandaid smile to that statement.

I avoided the videos on my phone of the days and weeks before all this happened.  I didn’t want to see the subtle changes.

The lack of speech, the cautious movements, the melancholy depth in his gaze.

Gradually, we could see him coming back to us…but I missed my little boy.

I missed the little boy who waved a hockey stick in his right arm with confidence and strength.

I missed the babbling chatter that he had just begun, pointing at the world around him with eager curiosity.

I missed the clear baby gaze that used to be so innocent and pure, looking at me with absolute trust.

I missed being enough; feeling brave and strong.

This one child, I had grown inside of me and tried so hard to protect the way I could never protect my daughters.

I was going to keep him safe.

He wasn’t going to know what it was like to feel scared, hurt and alone.

Yet here we were.

Slowly over the next weeks I tried to take it in and to take time to feel.

I still am.

To feel the pain, the fear, the loss.

To let myself adjust to the unexpected life has brought us.

I feel like my mind has room for very little these days, but I’m realizing that’s ok.

We have had little people in and out of our home again the past few weekends as relief foster care placements and I am so grateful to be able to offer love to them despite the inadequacy I feel.

It feels good to feel that heart-tug when their little hands reach for my neck.

It feels good to remind myself of who I am and to know that even when I am not enough, God promises to fill in the gaps.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships,in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”                                      2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Strong?

Delight?

It feels so foreign and yet I can see it shimmering through.  When I fall into bed exhausted at the end of the day, yet I close my eyes and see her sweet little face tucked into my daughter’s bed.  Safe for one more night.

I feel it in the little boy arms that sling around my neck as he somersaults over the couch back into my lap, shy in his request for some affection.

I feel I have so little to offer these little people God has set in my home for a few days, yet somehow it’s obvious they can feel His love, His acceptance, His grace shining through the chaos and busyness of so many little people in one house.

Karter continues to make progress, though it comes more slowly now.

His happiness and slowly returning confidence is like a healing balm to my soul.

I cannot get enough of his smile,

his laughter,

the little shrieks and sounds he’s just started making again.

We went camping last weekend and he absolutely loved it.

To watch him toddle around taking it all in was so fortifying to my limping heart.  Swimming, exploring, boating, stomping on bugs, eating beside the campfire and falling asleep exhausted at the end of the day curled up in his sleeping bag next to me.

I needed it too.

The fresh air, chilled lake water, smoky campfire flavour and dirty faces of the ones I love most around me were so far away from the fear and pain.

It felt good to take one more step forward, away from the darkness.

Bouncing over the lake with my girls as we tubed beneath the bright, hot sun I felt more free and happy than I have in months.  We laughed and shrieked over the waves, again and again and again.

Just now my eyes land on a piece of mail.

“Never Give Up Hope!”

Hope.

It can feel so elusive but it’s always right there within grasp when we believe in a God who is so much bigger than this broken, faded world.

If this is you right now,

limping along grasping for threads or feeling disillusioned with the world,

take these words as my prayer for you and hide them deep within your heart.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.

-Romans 15:13

 

 

 

 

Refresh Chicago 2016

My heart is full.

My husband and I travelled to Chicago this past weekend to attend the Refresh Conference.  It’s a conference specifically for Believers involved in foster care and adoption.

The name says it all.

The main goal is to refresh and equip foster and adoptive families while providing space for community to flourish.

I did not know I was starving;

For a glimpse of this part of God’s Kingdom

for encouragement and blessing on this journey

for hope

for the future.

I did not expect the emotions I felt as I stood with over a hundred other people passionate about orphaned and vulnerable children, worshipping together.

The tears caught me off guard as I felt their presence around me,

listened to their words of hope

and saw the same heart in their eyes as I see looking back in the mirror at me every day.

We laughed,

we cried,

we worshipped,

we prayed,

we learned,

we said “me too.”

I went expecting to meet new people, hear their stories and be encouraged.

What I experienced was so much more.

I was spiritually nourished.

I felt like they were speaking my heart language.

My soul rested and I felt this balm just wash over me, knowing that here in this place I did not need to fight or defend.

Here I was understood.

At the end of the weekend we exited through a prayer line.

I walked beside my husband, clenching his hand and feeling the tears sting my eyes as I saw their hands stretched over us and heard their prayers ringing in my ears.

“Patience…bring healing”

“His strength in your weakness”

“power…love…be blessed…”

I didn’t know how much it would mean to have someone praying His Word over me, my husband and our family.

We are not alone.

Thank you

AF

 

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