Category: fostering

It Begins

Today this awesome Big Guy starts his first day of Kindergarten.

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Go, Big Guy, and conquer that first day with the awesome joy only you can bring to a classroom of new friends. I don’t know how long you’ll still be with us or where you’ll be when you finish your Kindergarten year, but I do know this… we love you so and today ENJOY the excitements of a new beginning.

And yes, buddy, today you finally get to EAT LUNCH AT SCHOOL!!!! =D

It’s the simple things that mean the most in your world.

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They can’t possibly be ready for all your personality. 😉

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Mr. Wonderful

Someone delightful turned 6 this past summer.

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And we had a transformers birthday of fun with the cousins.

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Sweet Big Guy,

We may only get to know you for a short part of your life, but you have blessed us so. You have opened our eyes to unconditional love. And raise a crazy boy who loves crazy boy stuff. You have pushed us to be better friends. And family to one we cannot keep. You have challenged me to listen better. And challenged me to think harder at how to teach someone who I am just getting to know. Your reckless laughter. Your over-the-top excitement. God has protected and sheltered you so. I know you miss your Mom. I hear you when you tell me your heart is broken, I know you want to be there… while you are wanting to be here. I know I tell you to control yourself. And for goodness sakes stop running and rough-housing. I know I even push you to remember 2 step directions and focus on telling one story at a time. I know I ask a lot of you. It’s because I love you. I hope you hear that enough from me. I hope you really receive my hugs. I hope you really receive my “I love you, buddy” reminders.

You have changed me. You have grown me. Thanks for giving me a second chance. Thanks for being willing to talk to me. And share some of your hurts. Thanks for playing with me and rolling down hills with me.

You are a wonderful boy. You love hard. You are so full of life. And you have so much ahead of you.

Run hard, dear one. Run hard after “right”. Ask more people if they pray and remind them that they should (just like you did that lady that drives you to visits). Be brave enough to tell your brothers when they are mean to you. Rise to the challenge of seeing bad examples and choosing to “do the right thing”.

I’m really proud of you, sweet boy. You have risen to the challenge again and again.

You should be proud of yourself.

You are a wonderful boy.

A WONDERFUL boy.

 

Happy birthday, Big Guy.

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We love you so.

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At Bat

Well many things have happened since we last spoke, dear Readers. You’ll be seeing more entries popping up again. Summer is winding down to the last little lull of revamping before the school year begins. Things are returning to schedule and routine, which is lovely for this planner of a Mommy.

Since we last spoke:

  • Matt and I took the girls on a 3 day trip away and a 1 day “just us” return.
  • The boys had a MARVELOUS time at respite (staying at another foster home – sort of like babysitting) while we were away and were spoiled as well.
  • It sort of fell into our laps to have the possibility of enrolling Big Guy in Christian private school (with Mom giving the okay) and we’ve been riding the county and scraping together everything needed for enrolment since pre-registration. [Sidenote: Dude, enrolling a kid in school is intense PLUS the whole “you can’t sign for anything” side of foster care!]
  • We’ve all managed to catch a high-fever bug and pass it amongst ourselves, with the exclusion of Matt and myself.
  • Had an awesome playdate with an old high school friend and her two sweet boys.
  • Attended another good ol’ foster care license upkeep trainings. WOOT! (NOT!)
  • Had a girls morning out to Ikea with my lovelies, a friend and her little girl.
  • Played way too much of this online facebook game…. I’d tell you the name, but then you’d play too.
  • Took the masses out to a few traveling playgrounds in the area for fun-packed outdoor play that produced strong napping tendencies.
  • And signed MY oldest up for ballet – tear. I’m working through letting go, people… but I still have until she moves out for college.
  • Oh and my dear Rachael also started Piano Lessons with our dear organ/piano player, Ms. Betty. So that’s been quite fun to sit down for 30 minutes a day and help her practice as well as watch her build in confidence in her mastery of beginning music skills.

So that’s us lately… hence the reason for the silence in blogville.

But I’m getting it back together, people. =)

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That I AM

Matt and I were chatting yesterday after church. The babies were down for their naps a bit early. The older kids finishing a movie that helped me get ready for church earlier that morning.

He said it so clearly. Articulated with such wisdom.

We were mulling over why we Christians get in such funks. Satisfied with mediocre faith. Church attendance only. Going through the motions. We’ve all been there, but the conversation can’t just stop there. Else we run the risk of taking up residency there.

We’d landed that being challenged is certainly a key factor. But we don’t challenge ourselves. I’m certainly not going to push myself out of myself. We need someone else. Someone full of the Holy Spirit. Jesus speaking through someone.

And he hit it right on the head. We need someone to say, “Shouldn’t you be asking yourself if God wants that for you?”

You know, I’ve found in other peoples’ support a similar theme arise. The “that’s good for your family” theme. You know, it’s as if orphan care is a sole calling of my family. Or a few families. And their call is something else.

I used to think like that. Nursery care was my calling. You do the other stuff. Senior adult care is for you. Or those rowdy youth. Or crazy VBS kids. In fact, I’ll just fold the bulletins and sharpen the pencils. You mediate the funding argument. You pray for the terminally ill child.

Once He moved me past that phase I started praying for the terminally ill. Those with the life sentence and the failing lungs. Those that would most likely never get well. Those that went to see Jesus before I said my “amen”. Prayer became more than a “give me” fest. Prayer with it’s mystery slowly became comfortable. And the ‘no’s felt a little less stinging.

I started to pray for those missionaries I will never meet. The ones giving their lives overseas. The ones being tortured. I started reading some accounts. Those martyrs. Those starving to death to feed the lost. Prayers felt like portals. Intercession felt more alive. The mystery not so uncomfortable and unstable.

And suddenly my living room became a throne-room. Falling at His feet. Crying over injustice. Hurting for the aborted. Those who lost their life before taking a breath. Those stuck in sexual trafficking. Those little children lost in slavery. Doing sickening crimes. My stomach started churning. Such hurt. I couldn’t ignore it anymore. My prayer life had pushed me there. God was unveiling how much He wanted the lost and dying world… even when they’re still in their sin.

World Vision became an opportunity. An opportunity to be faceless and yet still foster Hope.

The orphan suddenly expanded to the helpless, the lost, the estranged, and the poor. The widow suddenly expanded into the hopeless, the stuck, and the ugliest least. The swept under the rug. The forgotten.

That’s what brought me to “my” boys. That’s what will bring you to “yours”.

It had nothing to do with comfort. It had nothing to do with ease. Or thrill. Or some kind of higher purpose.

It had everything to do with obedience.

When your Father calls. You say “here, I am, Lord. Send me.”

You don’t ask how much it’ll cost. You don’t weigh the heartache.

You don’t offer an alternative plan.

When you hear His voice. You RUN to meet Him.

It’s easy to get lost. I am not for foster care. I AM for Christ.

And He has brought me to fostering.

It would not have been my choice. I am not designed for fostering. I am not designed for mothering. I am designed for worship. And I worship through obedience.

He equips. He constructs. He ignites. He sustains. He recollects. And He rebuilds.

And it is through His love that I feel compelled.

Compelled to reach out to the orphan. Compelled to love the neighbor. Even when it’s not convenient. And when it’s frustrating. And when I just want to be “our family” without someone else calling the shots. Even when I just want to get away from always asking for help. Even when I want to be selfish and just hold my babies. Even when I’m jealous and don’t want him thinking so fondly of his mother when I know the choices she is knowingly making. Even when I am prideful and want to the world to acknowledge my struggle. Even when I want to hide because I don’t want exposed the worse version of my tired, undone self. I am compelled to run to the darkness. The Light cannot be contained.

I don’t have to fear losing myself. I AM.

I don’t have to fear walking a narrow path. I AM.

I don’t have to fear losing these boys. I AM.

I don’t have to fear never sleeping again. I AM.

I don’t have to fear life feeling disrupted. I AM.

It’s not my life to live.

It was crucified on the cross.

… And yet I live.

I Live.

Truly LIVE.

Not I but Christ that lives within me.

And I can do all things through Christ who gives me the strength that I need.

The strength that I need daily!

To daily set myself aside and say, “Yes, Lord. I choose to obey today.”

I don’t know what today holds. But I AM.

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With Hugs

Big Guy,

 

I remember when you first came here. You were nervous. Would you need to take care of your baby brother? What is a foster home? “You are foster people!” you tried to make sense of it while talking to Rachael the next morning. But thank you for telling your worker that you felt comfortable here within an hour of meeting us for the first time. You were welcome before we knew your name.

 

I’m sorry about the lice and the baggy clothes. You were such a trooper. I don’t know what you came from, but you handled shots and dental care like a hero. Fillings are uncomfortable. Doctors are unfamiliar. And the ‘all new’s sure can overwhelm someone. Thank you for trying to sit so still through all the combings, and pickings, and recombings. And thank you for being brave while your hair was cut short. I know you didn’t want to. I didn’t want to either. But it had to be done. And now you no longer itch. We hope you never have to go through that again. You know, it’s funny how all that feels like an unreal bad dream when we look at you now.

 

I’m glad the spiderman border helped you feel loved. You matter so much to us. We were still just starting to get to know you back then. Feels like so long ago. We were just beginning to mesh together. Learning your favorite color, favorite foods, and favorite activities. We watched a lot of movies back then. Remember? You were still getting used to Rachael and Abi. New roommates are easier to handle with time. And it was still cold outside. And Little Man was sick.

 

It seems so long ago that all that happened. Such a blur. Introductions. Opening our arms and hearts.

 

And now it’s just like you’ve been here for years. We’re past the beginning rules. And on to the regular challenges.

 

You don’t put your hands up anymore. Remember that? You used to be scared when anyone would get into an argument. Now you know we’ll work it out. And we still love each other. And we’re going to keep each other safe.

You don’t need the closet light on anymore or the bedroom door left open. Remember that? I know, we still leave the closet light on. Helps to see Little Man when he sometimes needs a night bottle. But I’m glad you said you’re not scared to go to sleep anymore. And you jump into your bed with a hug without needing someone to sit with you. You’re so brave. And I hope if you do go back to Mom that you won’t feel scared to go to sleep there. Even if right now you’re still not sure.

I’m proud of you for making a friend (even if Daddy helped a bit). It’s so cool to get to see Bobby come over to play, even when he rings the doorbell while everyone’s napping. I’m glad he wants to see you. You are a great kid. You are A LOT of fun!

And honey, I know you hear me say this to you a lot, but that’s because I don’t want you to ever forget it… I love you. I love you so much and I care about you so much. I want you to be your best. And feel brave. And safe. And thank you for sharing with me when you don’t feel as brave.

I don’t know how long those adults at children’s services are going to be working with your Mom and Dad. And I know it’s a long time and feels like a long time. But thank you for being okay with staying with us for a long time while your Mom gets things done. And even if we’re only a stepping stone to renewed stability (you’ll understand what that means when you’re older), I’m really glad that you are with us. Yes, even when you get in trouble for bad choices. I’m still glad. Yes, even when we tell you to calm down and that you’re choosing to be annoying. We’re still glad that you are here with us. We are so blessed.

 

Thank you for asking me to push you on the swing. And hold your hand to play jumping games on the sidewalk. Thank you for running to show me a picture you drew at school or what you got from your Mom and Dad at visit.

 

I love being a part of your world.

 

I love you, Big Guy,

Always.

 

With Hugs,

Mommy Monica

 

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Home

It’s been a wonderful Saturday, taking 5 out to a few stores and poking around on clearance racks for additions to the boys’ wardrobes. There were a few holes now that summer is creeping into the tail-end of spring. Two happy boys with new shorts and a few new shirts. Three happy girls, one who was napping and the other two adding creativity to the shopping experience of others. 😉

 

It was a simple morning, followed by lunch and two kid haircuts. One in the kitchen and one in front of the TV.

 

It is really simple. But it felt like home.

 

 

I remember sitting in the court room. There were just four of us back then. We sat in a line with the rest of the clan. We held signs, “we’ll take her!” and “we love you Aunt Alyssa!” We got the privilege to attend our Alyssa’s adoption court hearing. She completed the eight of my Matthew’s side. It was cool to hear a dusting of her case. She had been looking. Different foster homes. Trying on families. And then she came home. She choked through tears as she explained to the judge, “When I came to the Stauffer’s I just felt like I was home.” My skin still pricks up when I recall it all.

 

Sweet child of ours. The one that’s out there somewhere wanting a home. I don’t know if we’ve already met you. I don’t know if you’re already going to sleep in the boys’ room. But know that we are longing for you. Like a Mother hen collects her chicks. We’re waiting with anticipation. One is missing.

 

I pray that one day soon. Maybe sooner than I know. You will find us your home.

 

And to “my” sweet boys, I don’t know if I’ll ever get to call you mine. But I love you so. A choice love. And a love that can’t be changed by you not having our last name. And Big Guy? I agree. It would be pretty “cool” if you were born here. Right here amongst this home. And I pray that if we never get the privilege to call you our sons, I pray that you’ll find home. Real home. Where you can feel safe and loved and needed and adored.

 

Home.

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