Next steps

Serving as a CASA was a privilege, and I really enjoyed the experience. I’m so glad I had the opportunity, and if you are looking for something meaningful to do with your time, I would strongly encourage you to consider serving. (www.becomeacasa.org)

For me, the hardest part about being a CASA was keeping that experience separate from the rest of my life. Due to confidentiality, I can’t share the details of the case. That’s the same as when I foster children. But the big difference, and the biggest challenge, was that I couldn’t introduce the children I was serving to any of the amazing people I am so blessed to have in my life.

The most important thing I bring to the table as a foster parent is my incredible support network. I don’t know how I ever became so fortunate, but my family, friends, church, and co-workers are simply the best. They are why I know that ‘family’ isn’t only determined by blood, marriage, and court orders. And I want any child I serve to know them and be blessed by them as well.

So at this stage in my life, I feel that I can best use my gifts by becoming a foster parent again.

During my last experience, I became painfully aware that I needed to find a new agency. While my agency was wonderful and supportive with Hope and Faith, and also supportive during my time with Samuel, I simply have different values than the leadership of this organization. I won’t say any more than that, but the point is that I am agency shopping.

After an awful lot of research, consideration, and prayer, I think I have found an agency that is just perfect for me, and I am really excited about the possibility. They don’t know about me yet, but I am working on their 17 page very detailed application. I understand they need some very personal information, but do they really need to ask my weight? Geez! Not even my mother knows that about me.

Stay tuned as I work through the process…

Special place

When Hope and Faith left my care, they went to live with their adoptive parents (who were and are dear friends of mine), so I became an “aunt” of sorts. I still have the privilege of being in their lives and watching them grow up. And boy, have they grown up! Faith is in middle school now, where she was recently named Student of the Month. And Hope is in first grade and just recently lost her two front teeth (don’t worry, it doesn’t slow her down one bit). I am so grateful for my relationship with them and their family.

Samuel returned to his biological family, so that situation was a little different. I wrote before that I wanted to give Samuel his space and the opportunity to completely forget he was ever in foster care. In other words, I don’t reach out to him to give him that reminder, but I welcome him contacting me. We went for a long time without any contact, and then out of the blue, I received a phone call. He gave me all three of his names, in case I forgot him (believe me, that will NEVER happen!).

Last night, he called again. We visited for a long time, and I can tell you that he hasn’t changed a bit! Samuel is playing football now, which means that he has to keep his grades up and watch his behavior–both of which are good for him, and I pray that he sticks with it. The conversation was awkward at first, like it would be with any other member of your family that you hadn’t heard from in a long time, and then we quickly found our rhythm and it was like it old times.

Once family, always family. All three of these kiddos will always have a special place in my heart.

Case Closed

I tend to like books and movies for which I can predict the ending. The ones where the guy gets the girl, the orphan finds a home, and everyone lives happily ever after. In fact, if I hear in advance that a movie doesn’t have a happy ending, then I would rather just skip it. So it’s gratifying when something in real life has a happier ending than I would have ever predicted had I been reading the book.

When Samuel was returned to his family, I looked for my next challenge, and I found it with an organization and I came to know and respect through my journey with Hope and Faith. CASA (which stands for Court Appointed Special Advocate) is an organization that works within the court system to make independent and informed recommendations to help the judge decide what is best for the child. While every child in the system has an attorney to represent the child’s interests in court, that attorney represents their client—the child. And sometimes children don’t know what is best for them. Of course kids want to return to the parents, but that’s not always what is best. That’s where a CASA comes in to the picture.

So about a month after Samuel went home, I started the process to become a CASA. It was sort of similar to the process to become a foster parent—without all the home visits. There was paperwork, an interview, and then 30 hours of training plus three hours of courtroom observation. I have to say that I really enjoyed the CASA training. I learned so much, that I think I may have learned more than in my 40 hours of foster parent training. I wish they taught a little more about the court system and what to expect in foster parent training.

As a foster parent, I was simply told when we would have a court hearing, and I would show up. I never understood how all the pieces fit together, and I certainly never got the impression that these hearings were part of some planned process. But now I have such an understanding of the system that completely baffled me before. It was like someone finally placed the “you are here” sticker on the map at the mall. I learned a lot of the lingo and more about the roles of various players. The CASA experience was worth it for the training alone.

But the experience was so much more than that. While I have to keep all the details of my case completely confidential, I can share a little about my experience.

When I became a CASA, I thought that it was all about the kids—and it is. But in order for me to make sound recommendations to the court about what was best for the kids, I had to spend a lot of time with their family too. I visited the various family members in their homes, and tried to get to know them, know their hearts, and know what they were capable of. Was there drama? Of course there was drama. I think that is expected for any case in the system. So I was never bored, and some months required more of my time than others. I learned a lot about coping with a massive amount of phone calls and sifting through what was important, and what really wasn’t. I tried to be a good listener.

Every three months, we would have a status hearing (sometimes more often if something big was happening), and I would be responsible for writing a report for the judge to read with recommendations for how I thought the case should go. It was a little intimidating at first, but the cool thing about CASA is that you have a supervisor who is a staff member who can help you with anything you need. My supervisor was wonderful at working around my schedule, coaching me through court reports, tough phone calls, and everything else that came up along the way.

Caseworkers change, judges change, attorneys change…all those people are paid to do their jobs full-time with overwhelming caseloads, and in a world as tough as this, turnover rates are understandably high. CASA volunteers focus on their one case and commit to see their case all the way through. That’s one of the things that makes them (us) such an important part of the process. By the time we were 14 months in and participating in court-ordered mediation, I could predict the responses and motivating factors of the various family members. But the other parties, who had changed over the course of the case, and didn’t have as much time invested with the family could not. I became one of the experts because I was one of few consistent people as time went by.

When I was first assigned to this case in September 2010, I never would have predicted the way things would work out. I thought I knew what would happen; but for once, I am happy to say I was wrong. Things didn’t turn out like I thought they would. They turned out better. And during the visits that I have made over the last two months since all was worked out in mediation, it has been abundantly clear that this is the right thing for the kids in my case.

Part of being a CASA means a commitment that once the case is closed, you sever all ties with the kids and their family. So while I won’t know for certain, I have faith that things are going to work out for this family. And today I got to hear those two little words that are “system lingo” for they lived happily ever after: case closed.

Sharing

I’m really excited about this coming Sunday because I have the opportunity to join with some amazing friends (including Hope and Faith’s parents) to share our experience with foster care and adoption with folks at our church.  We feel called to share our experience and allow God to use that in whatever way He has planned.  That might mean someone else will be called to foster or adopt, or it may mean someone may step up to become a mentor or a CASA. Or maybe it will be a reminder to all of us of God’s unconditional love for His children.

For those of you who can’t hear these wonderful stories and meet these friends in person, you can see a little of what you are missing here.

All I can say is how incredibly blessed I am to have precious people like this in my life. I’m so grateful we can share this journey together.

Adventures end

When I taught fifth grade, I always thought the last day of school was bitter-sweet.  While I looked forward to the conclusion of the school year and the fun of summer (though full time grad school wasn’t the most fun way to spend a summer), I also hated to say good-bye to the students I had taught and nurtured over the past nine months.  OK, so there were always one or two I didn’t mind bidding farewell, but that’s not the point. 

As the kids left my classroom for the very last time, I expected hugs and thank yous, declarations that they would miss me, and promises to come back and visit.  These are the things I pictured in my head anyway.  But when the final bell rung, none of that happened.  Instead, the kids screamed “summer!” and bolted out the door without looking back, ready to embrace their freedom.

That’s kind of how my good-bye with Samuel went down.  There was no more of a farewell than if I were dropping him off for an afternoon play date.  There was no looking back, and the only tears were my own—after I pulled the car out of the driveway and around the corner. 

The tears I cried were not tears of sadness.  They were really more of an emotional release, a way of me marking what I recognized as a significant moment—even if no one else did. 

It’s important for me to remember that I didn’t serve as Samuel’s foster parent for Samuel or even for other foster children out there.  It’s not because I want any kind of appreciation or gratitude.  I served as Samuel’s foster parent because it was what I was called to do, and it is my hope that answering that call glorified God in some small way.  That’s what it’s all about, and that’s what I try (though admittedly unsuccessfully at times) to live my life to do.

You may have noticed from the long hiatus I took in between my last post and this one that I will be blogging on a much less frequent basis.  I write about my adventures as a foster mom, so when I’m not a foster mom, it’s hard to find material.  There are a couple more posts left in me as I reflect on this experience, but I can’t predict when they will come out, so just stay tuned.

I can’t yet answer the questions of if or when I will foster again.  I don’t know yet.  My work schedule makes it impossible for me to foster from January-June 2011, so I plan to take at least a year off (from foster parenting, not from work—though don’t I wish?).  I am tempted to truly take a year to live comfortably and unchallenged, but I know that’s not what God called us to be.  Therefore, I am looking into several options to see what that next uncomfortable challenge is supposed to be.  There are lots of ways I can help foster kids without having them come live with me.  Maybe I will write about those adventures over the next year.  After all, even without a child in my direct care, I will forever remain Foster Mom.

Letting go

When I talk about the fact that I am a foster parent, one of the most common questions I am asked is “how do you let them go?” I’ve only ever done this twice, so I am no expert at this, but I don’t think the letting go part is ever easy. It wasn’t intended to be.

I’ve never written about this before, but there have been few times in my life when I have encountered personal grief to the magnitude that I did when Hope and Faith went to live with their forever family. Keep in mind, that I KNEW I would still see them and have them in my life. Keep in mind that their parents are dear friends of mine, and I couldn’t possibly have had any more certainty that they were going to a wonderful home where they would be loved and cared for even more than they were with me. Even so, I grieved the loss.

People would approach me at church to congratulate me on the girls’ happily ever after family or ask how I was doing, and I would bolt to go cry in the bathroom. While shopping at Target I would see an adorable dress that was just Faith’s size or a toy I knew Hope would love and realize that people were staring because I had tears streaming down my face. It was embarrassing. I didn’t understand it. I can’t explain it. I was a mess, but I made it through.

When the girls went to live with their new parents, Hope and Faith’s mom asked me whether I thought it would be harder for me to live life with the girls or without them. I didn’t hesitate with my answer. I had already lived life without them for a lot of years, so of course that would be easier. But actually, one of the hardest things for me was to reprogram myself to live life without them. I would still leave work and drive toward Hope’s daycare some days. I would throw items into the cart at the grocery store for them because sometimes I would just forget. I imagine that a lot of parents who lose their children to tragedy or even those who become empty nesters share many of those same experiences.

If not for the assurances I described above, I can’t imagine how much harder it would have been.

Though it pains me to admit it, if I’m really honest, I was never as bonded and truly in love with Samuel in the same way I was with the girls. Maybe that’s because they were my first children.  Maybe that’s because he was a challenging 11 year-old boy who treated me pretty terribly at times (though one of the biggest reasons I became a foster parent was a challenging 11-year old boy who was one of my students years ago). Maybe that’s because I didn’t allow myself to become as attached, to protect my heart from enduring that kind of pain again. Or as Hope and Faith’s mom has told me several times, maybe it is God’s provision to protect Samuel and I both as His perfect plan unfolded. God didn’t intend for me to form a forever attachment with Samuel, nor he to me.

The constant contact I have with the girls won’t repeat itself with Samuel—and that’s OK. I found the words that appear on the CPS website in a letter from a typical foster family to a parent who has had their child removed by CPS are very fitting. The letter reads “We are your child’s foster parents and we will remain in your child’s life only as long as your child needs us. We will help your child deal with everyday life as easily as possible until your child goes home.”

I have to celebrate the fact that Samuel is going home. That’s where he wants to be the most. Who could blame him? I would want to be with my family too.

My desire is to do exactly what this letter says and remain in Samuel’s life as long as he needs me. I don’t want to force a connection in the future that neither he nor his family want. I don’t want to serve as a reminder of a time he might prefer to forget. That’s not what I signed up for. The purpose of this adventure was for me to help a kid who needed someone to shelter and love him for this season of his life. I did those things to the best of my ability. Should Samuel need me somewhere down the road, I think he knows I will always be here for him.

Samuel was surrounded by lots of folks here who care about him just as much as I do on Monday afternoon.  Lots of my family and friends, along with several new friends Samuel made along the way, as well as teachers and the principal from Samuel’s school all attended a send-off party in Samuel’s honor.  I can’t begin to express how grateful I am to have them walk along through this adventure beside me—to put their hearts on the line as well.  Now they must let go just as I do.

While there are certain aspects of “having my life back” that really appeal to me, I also realize that the “reprogramming process” will take some time again. I’ve grown accustomed to having him here, so I am sure there will still be a few instances when I walk into his room and forget he’s not there, or maybe I will buy something at the store because I am used to buying that item for Samuel. Letting go is never easy.  It wasn’t intended to be.

Recalcitrant

Recently I read the word ‘recalcitrant’ describing some members of the US Congress. I found myself in an SAT word moment and actually had to look up the meaning;  now ‘recalcitrant’ is my new favorite word. In case you are in the same boat as me, I will save you the trouble. It means “stubbornly resisting the authority of another person or group.” If you were to look up ‘recalcitrant’ in the dictionary, you just might find a picture of Samuel.

Tonight, we had a show-down in Wendy’s. I picked Samuel up from attending his younger sister’s birthday party, and we got a much later start home that I had planned, so we stopped along the way to eat. After dinner, he asked for a “moth” which I finally translated to “malt” and asked him if a “frosty” would do. He said yes.

But on the way to purchase the ice cream, it took multiple corrections to get him to mind his manners around all the other people, and I warned him that I wouldn’t be buying an ice cream if he didn’t mind. When I had to correct him a fourth time, he yelled loudly “oh my gosh!” So I told him there would be no frosty and that we were headed to the car.

The problem was, Samuel did not head to the car. Samuel was recalcitrant. He stood stubbornly at the rail in front of the cash register and told me he was going to have a frosty. I quietly and calmly explained to him that if he wanted a frosty, then he should have respectfully followed directions. There was no way on earth I was going to spend money on a frosty to reward his behavior. There wasn’t any yelling between either of us. We both calmly stated our version of what was about to happen, and I reminded him that he was the child and I was the parent. This back-and-forth went on for some time as we both dug in our heels.

It took a miracle, but I finally got him to the car, where he gave me the direction “don’t talk to me.” But unlike other stand-offs that Samuel and I have experienced, this one ended up with us locked in a car together for 30 minutes. There was nothing he could do to escape me. Samuel exploded in anger on the drive home, but ironically enough, that turned out to be a positive thing for our relationship.

Samuel screamed that he didn’t want to be in foster care and that his being in foster care was all my fault. Finally, we got to the heart of why he is always so angry at me. For whatever reason, the thing he has never verbalized to be before: he blames me for his being in the system.

It gave me the opportunity to tell him that I am not the reason he is in foster care. He demanded to know who was, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. I simply reiterated that I didn’t know him, his family, or anything about him when he was put into foster care. All I knew was that I got a phone call and was asked if an 11 year-old boy named Samuel could come live with me, and I said yes. I further went on to point out many of the things I do for him (despite his treating me the way that he does) and explained that I am not required to do those things, but I do them because I care about him and because I am trying my best to do right by him.

I told Samuel that while I don’t require him to love, or even like me, I do require that he respect me as his parent—even if I am only a ‘foster parent,’ and only for three more days at that. He quickly corrected me and spoke the words “I never said I don’t love you.”

Foster Care Awareness Month

I can’t allow the entire month of May pass by without mentioning that May is Foster Care Awareness Month. You are obviously at least a little aware of foster care if you ended up on my blog, so maybe you are wanting to become a little more aware…or maybe even involved.

There are over 460,000 children in foster care in America today. In Texas alone, there are over 25,000 children in care. Of that population, 30% are age 14 or older, which means that most of that 30% are very likely to age out of the system without ever being adopted by or reunited with a family.

While reunification is typically the first goal when a child is put into care, that only becomes a reality for less than one-third of the kids in foster care in Texas. Samuel’s experience of being reunited with a primary caregiver isn’t what happens for most kids in the system.

The Foster Care Awareness Month campaign has compiled an excellent list for anyone who may want to get involved in this crazy adventure with the intent to help the kids who need help the most. Click here to view the options on their Change a Lifetime menu. It gives you options for whatever time you have to give—whether that is minutes, hours, weeks, or more.

And while you may not have noticed before, I have quite a few links that remain active on this page all the time. They are mostly Austin and Texas based, as that’s what I know best, but there are a couple of national sites as well that could lead you to finding information on other states as well. If you want to learn more about what is required to be a foster or adoptive parent in Texas, you can click here. If you don’t feel that you are called to be a foster parent, there are still lots of ways you could help kids.

  • Children in foster care need mentors in a big way—kids like Samuel who are boys and placed with single moms, and lots of other kids like him are waiting for someone like you to step up and spend some time with them. I hear foster children can serve as great cover for checking out the latest new kids’ movie.  My agency has a sign up for mentors and they never have enough.  There are lots of other great mentoring programs too.  More than I can list, yet never enough volunteers.
  • Children in foster care need advocates, like a Court Appointed Special Advocate or (CASA) to speak on their behalf in court and make sure all the right decisions are made.
  • Children in foster care need stuff. Organizations like the Partnerships for Children  and the Presbyterian Children’s Home and Services stock places like the Rainbow Room so that when children are first placed in care with only the clothes on their backs, caseworkers can pick up items like toothbrushes, pajamas, and a stuffed toy to make things a little more comfortable and a little less scary.
  • Children in foster care (and their families—both biological and foster) need your prayers.  We need prayers that these kids will be able to beat the statistics and not end up homeless at 18, in prison, or worse.  We need prayers the these children would be loved and nurtured enough to overcome the obstacles in their paths.

There are so many ways you can help. There are so many kids who need your help.

Into the deep

Last night, we went over to the home of an awesome family for dinner and swimming in the lake near their house. The kids were very excited to go swimming (whereas I, on the other hand, wouldn’t be caught dead swimming in any body of water in which I can’t see what is below the surface) and ran for the water the moment we rounded the corner and it came into view. I wasn’t able to catch Samuel to make him leave his glasses with me; and I should have.

The kids swam out to the floating dock in the middle of the lake. While standing on the dock, Samuel started yelling my name and pointing at the water. At first, I couldn’t tell if he was trying to tell me someone was drowning or what. Then I understood, when in addition to my name he started screaming “my glasses!” I’m not sure what he thought I was going to do about that standing on shore, but by the time I was able to understand what was happening, it was far too late to give the instruction “go get them!”

It’s funny how history repeats itself. In Samuel’s previous placement in foster care, his behavior went from bad to worse once he knew he was leaving. And just before he left their care, his glasses were broken. That’s why he came to me without glasses. Sadly, he will be leaving me that way as well. It takes five days to get his glasses, so with the Memorial Day Holiday, there is certainly no way he will get them in time. If I don’t order them on Tuesday, he won’t have insurance to pay for them though, so I plan to order them first thing Tuesday morning and have them delivered to his new home.

Samuel informed me today the he thinks a fish is probably wearing his glasses.  He might be right.

When you care enough

I have a new friend who adopted her beautiful 16 year-old daughter this week. I had to work and missed the ceremony, but I couldn’t be happier for the two of them and the forever family they have become.

Once again, I visited the Hallmark store to select just the right card for this special occasion, and once again I was disappointed. Hallmark has about three different cards to congratulate parents on the adoption of a baby, or their “little one,” but nothing that is appropriate for the adoption of an older child.

The nice ladies in the Hallmark store went out of their way to try to help me find a card that would be suitable. They also told me that I should go to the Hallmark website and suggest the idea for a card (as well as my idea for a Mother’s Day card for foster moms).

So I went to the website. After some difficulty navigating my way through it, I was able to find a form to e-mail the company. I explained the need, said I knew they had adoption cards, but that they were for adopting a baby, and not suitable for other adoptions. I even added a statement about how much I know this company cares about its customers and knew that they probably just hadn’t thought of this need.

Hallmark sent me a generic response that simply reads “Although we are honored that you would think of Hallmark, we do not accept submissions of creative suggestions, ideas, notes, drawings, concepts or other information.”

However, I was undeterred. I sent another e-mail to the company that read something like this.

I would like to reopen my previous question #100526-000682.  Perhaps I took an approach that was too nice before by "suggesting" that you consider creating cards for older children who are adopted.  Since you don’t accept suggestions, please let me be clear: I would like to complain that Hallmark does not have cards that address this special circumstance.  I am not at all suggesting that you create such a card, but I am informing you that I will have to take my business elsewhere if you do not make such a card available.  Thank you very much for taking the time to read my complaint (which is not intended in any way to make a suggestion or give you an idea).

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