Foster Care.

For numerous reasons, I have grown up afraid of it, afraid of them. They were in it. 

They were kids at school, siblings in church, and the people who lived down the street from my best friend in elementary. They were always around, but sadly, I never found myself entering their world. It was unknown. And unknown is scary. Since I am one to cry when fish or turtles die, I am NOT one for unexpected goodbyes. They could just leave; they could disappear with absolutely no explanation.

There has been a day or two during work when I can hear my dad’s voice repeating what he said to me when I told him and mom I planned to major in early childhood education...

“Madison, you can’t take them all home with you.” 

A small part of my heart said, “Why not?” 

The other part of my heart said, “Dad, do not worry. I’m too scared to enter into THAT world. I always have been.”

Nearly two years in the classroom, I can say I have only experienced one moment where my heart broke into a million pieces over one of them. The fear of the unknown and the goodbye kept me from investing in, caring for, and loving on them before. Until an unexpected goodbye happened…a goodbye I did not even know about until it had already taken place. I had told them I would see them tomorrow, but I would not. I did not know my goodbye would be forever. Tears flowed for weeks on end. I cried for months at the mention of their name. I cried myself to sleep for a week straight because I could not figure out what I could do for them. Then, the Lord told me to be still. I finally made myself still and He gently whispered, “You introduced My kind of love. You did your part. Continue on.” What I feared the most was over. Though it deeply hurt, it was the first time I allowed myself to not ignore their situation as a whole, but enter right into their mess and distress.

“We can’t let the fear of loving a child that might leave us deter us; we must let the fear of a child never knowing our love drive us.” ~Jason Johnson

Adoption is not always the answer for them. No, it is usually always more difficult of a process than that. If it was a simple process, I can assure you my husband and I would already have a house full. Unfortunately, foster care is much more complicated. After several months or years, sometimes one party says reunify; another says terminate rights. What the system sees as a success can quickly become a failure that begins the entire process all over. These poor children are stuck in a limbo for a large portion of their lives. They move from home to home. They did not ask for it. They find themselves in the system because of others' poor choices. Situations are nasty. Stories are heartbreaking.

Children in the system, though, should not be what I had made them out to be. A little girl who calls me “My Nadi” is opening my eyes to all things foster care and has been for roughly four months now (I am by no means close to an expert). Ryan and I are not her foster parents. We are just two people that bounce in and out of her foster parents’ home because they happen to be my sweet family that live 8.2 miles up the road. If there is one thing I have learned by knowing this precious princess and her brother, it is that a person does not have to become a foster parent to be involved in foster care. You just have to care; you wholeheartedly care for the children in the system. (If you feel at all interested or led to foster care, though, please check into Oklahoma Fosters or the child protective services in your state).

Why enter into their mess and distress? Why not run for the hills out of fear? Why not remain indifferent? The main reason—Someone entered directly into our distress 2,000 years ago to offer hope. Except our messy situation was our own fault. We had been living in an open rebellion against God for thousands of years. Jesus came as the Redeemer. Jesus rescued us. The cost? Giving up His life on the cross as the ultimate sacrifice for all of humanity’s sin. Jesus came to heal what was broken—the relationship between man and Almighty God. He invests in, cares for, loves on, and enters into the world of all those who repent.

Foster care brings hope.

Foster care exists to mend relationships. 

Foster care helps rescue children from danger. 

Foster care begins the healing of what is broken. 

Foster care reflects Christ's love.
Foster care is a sacrifice. 

The sacrifice can be great or small.

The sacrifice can be giving up your comfortable life to foster.
The sacrifice can be saying goodbye unexpectedly.

The sacrifice can be offering babysitting or grocery shopping to foster parents. 

The sacrifice can be granting extra patience to the foster child in your classroom.

The sacrifice can be laying down all pride to ride a motorized cow around the entire mall with a 3 year old. 

Whatever the sacrifice, it is indeed worth it. Jesus thought we were worth entering into the world for. I know He thinks foster children are worth entering into their world, also. 

He showed me by introducing a princess named “Z.”

"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after widows and orphans in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." James 1:27. (emphasis added)

Wild About You!

Ryan and I have been going nonstop as of late. As much as I have loved the holidays and all that comes with the break, I was close to being exhausted of the continual traveling and lack of normalcy. I missed having my husband to myself. I missed my bed. I missed my dog being able to be free all the time. I missed my routine. I missed my Kinders.

Towards the end of last week, Ryan came down with one of the many somethings going around. All weekend, I took care of him (trying to not get it at the same time). I needed to prepare things for Monday. Even though, I had tried my best to leave my classroom ready for me to walk in the door and be back into our routine we have worked hard to master since August. Every time I sat down to get my last minute things together, as I would on typical Sunday evenings, Ryan would need me (Which I am not complaining about. I love my husband. I hate when he is sick. I try my best to shorten the sickness by helping and serving him). In the midst of the ups and downs, I forgot to make a mental note of books to read to my littles on Monday morning.

I read to my kids often. Personally, I believe it is the single best thing I can do for them, aside from telling and showing them I love them. I read to my students several times a day, and I try to be intentional with the books I read aloud. I try to pick books on topics that my students have shown interest in, books that are apart of our theme, or character building books to have mini lessons with. Sure, sometimes I let my kids pick or I reach back in the drawer and grab whatever catches my eye, but usually, I am intentional. Not today. Nope. That part of my day had completely slipped my mind during the chaos.

There we all are, about to begin Daily 5, on the first day back from a two-week Christmas break, trying to remain in routine as best as possible, and Mrs. Russ forgets to pick a book to read. Way to go, Russ, way to go. I try to not panic and begin to slowly search the rug for the books my students have found to read for the day.

Aha! Wild About You! is sitting in a little’s lap with zebras, giraffes, and monkeys present in the illustrations. "That book goes with our classroom theme," I thought, "making it not completely random." I did what anybody would do in the same situation, I asked the child if I could read it to the class. He gave me the okay, and I took a big sigh of a relief. Those few seconds were too close to ruining my otherwise normally flowing morning. (Side note to my teacher friends that are still reading this: 99.9% of the time I follow the teacher law that demands reading books BEFORE reading them aloud to the class. I know I broke the law this time. I know, and I am sorry. I hope it does not happen again, but it honestly might. I am a first year teacher. It still is all a little hectic).

I open the book and begin reading… Instantly, I am reading about a zoo, a zoo full of babies; every animal has a baby, except for the pandas and the tree kangaroos (whatever those are). The pandas and tree kangaroos are upset because they have not been blessed with a baby. That is, until the zoo gets in an egg that nobody wants. Every bird in the zoo rejects the egg. The tree kangaroos step up. They adopt the egg, watch it hatch into a penguin, and love her completely. They need help, though; they do not have the slightest clue about raising a penguin. The rest of their animal friends jump in to lend a hand.

Later on in our children’s book, the pandas adopt a few kittens. They, too, end up confused and troubled on how to adequately raise a baby that is not at all like them. Again, the zoo friends step up and help them out. After all, it takes a whole zoo to help raise a baby (Or is that how that saying goes?).

Adoption. I, unknowingly, picked a book about adoption, something extremely near and dear to my heart. (Another side note: Usually, I turn into a crybaby reading about adoption. I was in full Mrs. Russ mode. Mrs. Russ cannot cry because then all my Kinders would cry, and we would get nothing accomplished. I chose to hold it together). 

On the way home, I let what seemed to be such a minuscule moment turn into the monumental occurrence that it absolutely happened to be. I have been convicted lately of keeping times like these minuscule, chalking it up to coincidence (like it could just randomly happen or something), not giving praise to the One who is majestically monumental. God sovereignly orchestrates these occurrences for me to slow down, remember why I am even where I happen to be, and praise Him. In these sweet, kind, "small" moments, God reminds me of these enormous, awe-inspiring truths: He is in control. He is sovereign. He sees me. He knows me. He cares for me. He loves me. He is "wild about me." 

I did not really take on a New Year’s resolution, because His mercies are new every single morning, not just on January 1st of each year. Although, after this morning, I resolve to allow the minuscule to become monumental each day, to see His hand in the mundane and the craziness, and to give Him the praise He rightfully deserves even when the instance may seem insignificant. I challenge you to do the same. 

P.S. If you would like to add the book I referenced to your children’s library (parents, teachers, or people of any sort), you can find it here.

Adopted.

I use the phrase “life-changing” on a daily basis. I would be extremely embarrassed to hear the number of times I say something along the lines of “It changed my life,” in a single day. Honestly, there are few things that have actually affected my life. In even more honesty, I have seriously claimed moments as “life-changing,” not realizing what would continue taking place deep down in my soul.

In my freshman year of college, I found myself in the dreaded Intro to Public Speaking course. We had to give three speeches during a semester: an informative speech, a persuasive speech, and a special occasion speech. I did a horrible job presenting the informative speech. It may come as a huge surprise to all who know me well, but I am not very confident speaking in front of a room. If I am sitting safely in my chair among others, I can talk to anybody, but put me in front of a class and I get emotional (I will blame that on Kerry’s genes). When we discussed the persuasive speech, I knew EXACTLY what I was going to speak over. It was something that interested me for several years before, and I had recently become extremely comfortable talking about it often: adoption.

I gave the speech—I was probably the most confident I had ever been speaking in front of people—and scored a 99 percent (Using my hands got a slightly bit out of control on that speech. Hey, I was extremely passionate, or so I thought).

Prior to this speech I had read a few books about orphan care. I could quote and share my opinion and views with the best of them. Looking back, I would only classify this as “head knowledge,” but there was a true life-changing moment right around the corner.

A year after I presented my persuasive speech over adoption, I found myself on a trip to Zambia to work in an orphanage for two weeks. After all, is that not what someone who is interested in orphan care does? They go, they come back, and they talk about it for the rest of their lives. That easily could have been me.

I tried to write this “life-altering feeling” off as exhaustion, culture shock, or an emotional high at the beginning. But there I sat after two weeks beside the most beautiful children I had ever known, having stories that made me hurt down to my bones and smile through tears of relief thanks to what God had done through New Day. We were leaving the next day. We had been in a village all afternoon and this was our last time to see the children before we were supposed to say goodbye. It was during the Wednesday night prayer meeting. A little girl came to sit on my lap. She soon fell asleep against my chest. One of the older boys sat right next to me, holding my hand. Another small boy sat in the floor with his arm wrapped around my leg. Even though I did not realize the full extent of it then, I knew I was experiencing a life-changing moment. I cried and cried as I thanked God for rescuing these children. When it was time to leave that place, I stood up and stared at where I sat for a long time. I knew I would never be the same.

Months and months later, I found myself broken every time I read the growing number of orphans in the world. Do not get me wrong, it always stopped me dead in my tracks before, but I would soon forget and go on like normal. However, I could not do that anymore. See, I had held one of those 153 million children in my arms as she fell asleep. I held the hand of one of the 153 million orphans as he prayed to his Heavenly Father. That staggering number with six zeroes behind it was no longer only a statistic to me. No, it had been made real. 

The world tells the orphan they are worthless, burdensome, and unlovable. That used to be me. I was a spiritual orphan. I was a sinner separated from the Most High God. I had nothing to offer. I was dirty, poor, and without a Father. But God in His great grace…

 “In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ.” Ephesians 1:4-5.

“…You have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’” Romans 8:15.

…adopted me through Jesus. He tells me my worth. He takes my sin and burdens away; He chooses me and loves me. He is my Father. He rescues. He redeems. He restores. He makes me apart of His family, forever.

Like I found out, we cannot make this identification and then simply stop. Throughout scripture God identifies Himself as a Father to the fatherless. He hears and sees the earthly orphan, the same as He hears and sees the spiritual orphan. (Watch! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HQXGRwR4N2Q)

“Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation. God settles the solitary in a home...” Psalm 68:5-6.

And God calls His adopted children to action.

"Learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow's cause." Isaiah 1:17.

I may read countless books over adoption, fly across the country for conferences, watch thousands of adoption videos, and talk about the doctrine until my face becomes blue, but until my head knowledge turns to heart knowledge and I am moved into action, it is all in vain.

I can hear the arguments now: “Madison, I am not called to care for the orphan.”

Please let me point you to James 1:27.

“Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.” James 1:27.

James 1:27 simply does not come with asterisks. We are all showed this grace by God adopting us so that we can show it to others.

“Well, I know I am not called to adoption.”

Too often we think that is the only way to care for the orphan. Adoption is one way; there are COUNTLESS other ways to fulfill this commandment, based on what the Holy Spirit leads you to. (Examples: Pray, advocate, sponsor a child,  give to orphan care ministries, families on the adoption journey, etc., volunteer your time at orphanages and children’s homes, for adoptive/foster families, etc, adopt, foster care, mentor…Oh, and I will just go ahead and throw out a few websites that I know a bit about and give you a start: here, here, and here)

My prayer for this post is that someone sees orphan care in another light. Whether that be to see it is a command in scripture, the picture of the gospel it portrays, or ways to get involved.

We are all called to care for the orphan in some form or fashion. I pray that you will have that life-changing moment, realizing your adoption through Christ into God’s family, and that it will sink deep down into your soul, leaving your head and settling in your heart, and move you to obey.

Lord willing, one day I will be able to sing these words over my child. I can assure you, it will be another one of those few, true, life-altering moments for me.

“I've never felt this way before. 

Funny how you found your way to my door, 

and suddenly my prayers are coming true. 

These arms are not letting go of you.

This love, this love is the deep kind. 

You’re my baby; you’re my sunshine. 

I’ll hold your hand, be your biggest fan, 

and I’ll love you all of the time.

Our eyes are not quite the same shade, 

and your hair blows in the wind a different way.

But I am your mother, and I love you just the same.

so I'll take your hand, honey, and you can take my name.

My heart has been redeemed, adopted, 

and now I know my Father. 

This grace that I’ve received, 

I want to show you, I want to show you.

This love, this love is the deep kind. 

It hangs on through the storm and the sunshine. 

I’ll hold your hand, be your biggest fan, 

and I’ll love you all of the time.”