Orphan Sunday

I’ve only blogged once this year because as much as I love staring at a blue-lit computer screen to balance the books or pick away at a novel in the works, I simply needed the time to experience fatherhood. However, for the past eight months of sitting on sharing any of my foster care experience, I now feel confident in sharing with you all what I’ve learned. To be honest, being involved with foster care caused me to have few good things to say about it, so I chose to withhold my thoughts for most of this year. It’s not always fun. It’s not always pretty. But within it is a world of delights these children have opportunity to encounter: like a warm bed every night that belongs to them for as long as they use it; consistent, delicious and wholesome meals three times a day, plus snacks; routine and order that they can count on; etc. These things most of us have always had, its hard to imagine what life would be like without such common things as these. Fostering is a hard road, but a good road. Do I feel like a pro yet having almost a year of experience? Hardly. But, through the refinement of my own heart in trying to hold it together when one of my children breaks down, I’ve come to know how to find their true needs and feel that I’ve peeked inside the vault of true fatherhood.

My first thoughts in late February were in regards to the first child placed with us. Junior is now no longer with us, as you know from our earlier updates, but I still think about him regularly. Parenting him was like no other experience I’ve ever seen or heard of and it wasn’t because he was some “difficult child.” Junior was a beautiful boy with a love for sports, but the tragic events of his young life caused such a level of trauma that it swallowed him up in shame, self-loathing and withdrawal. We learned all this rather swiftly during his stay with us and we advocated as much as possible to make known his reality within his case. Although our efforts were steadfast, they were unsuccessful; I am convinced however, that for a moment or two he saw a glimpse of the magic of family. When he did leave our home, I was crushed. On the night he left, I was with him when his rage erupted into the complete destruction of everything in his bedroom. I still remember how alarming his strength was for a six year old. After I got him out of the house, I attempted to distract him from harmful thoughts for seven hours in our local crisis room. During the stress of it all, I began to realize something within myself. Despite my utter fatigue and total lack of knowing what to do, such things didn’t matter at the time, simply walking alongside him in his darkness that night brought him comfort. I didn’t question in that moment of complete weakness if I had made a mistake in signing up to foster. I wasn’t dreading the potential placement of more children. On the contrary, during that moment I realized that my desire to meet with him was only deepening, even though he wouldn’t be returning home with me that night. I’ve thought about that desire for the past several months now as I press forward in parenting our three-year old who was placed with us barely two weeks prior to that night. Our toddler is a very different child with different trauma, but the same need. “Who is going to walk with me?” My desire to meet that need evolved into full-blown passion, despite all of his trauma-triggered outbreaks that have no rhyme or reason.

Foster care truly is trial by fire. Nothing can prepare a parent for what “lies ahead” in foster care. I could list such “surprises,” but I refuse to be another bitter parent badmouthing the unnatural institution of foster care and its inner parts. With anything new in life, if one feels so bold to venture forth, either you apply yourself and learn your way, or give up. The experiences of fostering this year might have appeared worthy to throw in the towel, but I did not and do not see it as so. Some sayings off and on in my home are “don’t quit, you can do anything,” “anything worth doing, is worth doing right,” (insert all clichés that apply). In the last several years, I’ve never had a problem jumping in to something I know nothing about, I just learn as I go. I mean, how hard could foster care be right? Haha… Yes, it is hard, but not in the way one might expect. Its not the lack of knowledge or possible failure, it’s hard because I must change the “place” from which I parent. I must change first. As I pondered my thoughts that dark evening with Junior in the crisis room (or even now when I negotiate with a defiant three-year old), wishing for the child to change somehow, I realized that the change must occur within me. I’m ten months strong in the parenting game, so I’m still a rookie in most areas, but it's clear to me that my heart first must be pure, in order to find the effective place in which to love these children. My heart needed to be pure of expectations, pure of traditions, pure of control, all such things I’d argue that most parents prioritize. A concept many might dismiss or scoff at, but for me, everything I do comes from the deep recesses of my heart and I owe it to myself to capitalize on that. If I were to remain in a mindset of “technique and reason,” without flexibility, foster care would only get harder. As a believer in Jesus Christ, a pure heart is evidence of my relationship with Him wherein I rediscover my identity, my purpose and my destiny. I want that same level of connection with my toddler, an opportunity I now have, that I didn’t have with Junior. Therefore, the good of foster care (next to giving a child his best chance in life) is the opportunity it presents to forge a pure heart within myself.

Each day that same opportunity returns to establish an effective place from which to love. Through prayer and regular visits with scripture, I’m now better at maintaining a pure heart. I have learned how to better recognize the needs of my toddler and how to identify the fear, all because I’m simply able to manage my own needs and fears first. Are there days where no one wins? Yes. Are there days I have no idea what I’m doing? Yes, but that’s never stopped me from moving forward. Where before I saw a behavior, now I see a need to be met. It’s never cut and dry, there is no simple solution with trauma, but my parenting went from zero to relationship building. Now I have the pleasure of building a deep relationship and connection with my toddler. I share these things because I desire that the gospel would bless this child and that it would manifest in every field of life; this is the gospel, that one’s heart be purified by the love of God. Every child deserves a safe and passionate household where blessing one another’s heart is the order of the day.

I recently attended an exclusive retreat for foster-adoptive fathers. There were notes and notes of take away, but what I will cherish most was what one of the fathers said to me at campfire as we shared with one another about our families. After very briefly sharing my experience this year, he looked at me and said, “you know, you’d be perfect for ten children.” Now I imagine one might gasp and guffaw at such a statement, but my heart was so filled I could dance. To me that isn’t ridiculous or unimaginable. If all went according to plan, I’d already have three biological children with one on the way and any foster child placements. Ten is not that improbable, (we’d only need a bigger house, car, fridge, but…details). One or ten, I’d be glad with either. It is not my “duty” to do good for these children in foster care, it is my burning passion to see them thrive, laugh, play, learn, to see them grow in spite of the major baggage life has handed them. Don’t fret, I’m a well planned out individual, I haven’t the capacity for ten children right now, but the sensation it creates within me fills me with absolute joy. As “Mary kept all these things and treasured them in her heart,” I too, treasure in my heart the power of what was said to me on the mountain in front of the fire. Maybe one day my house might have ten kiddos, who knows, but I do giggle a little when I think about it.

The experience of a father in foster care is next to secret, because for one, its hard to illustrate because its so unnatural, and two, in some cases its more the wife’s “thing” that he agreed to support her in. I know, because I know a lot of foster dads and I’m chatty. However, today, I share my experience in honor of Orphan Sunday. Children in foster care are temporary orphans, they’re separated from their parents and it’s terrifying and isolating. Many times they don’t experience a lot of triumph, that is the reality, but what can occur during their stay with another family can be absolutely transformative. I am utterly convinced of this. Yes, when children come and they have to go, it is highly painful just as it was with Junior, but that does not tempt me to quit. It drives me to help them discover their identity, purpose and potential so they might transform out of fear, just as was done for me through the love of the Father. Forget not the orphaned this Sunday, research your community for opportunities to serve your local foster care agency or Big Brothers Big Sisters and remember these children need someone to “walk with them” too.

Until Next Time,

Patrick