This is a topic that has been on my heart a lot lately. Really it started back in early August when we stopped into a town so Grace could see her dear friend "A", who moved away last summer. This little girl was the sweetest little girl-bursting with life and energy, when we greeted her at the door of her new house, it was a different story. She was still happy, but her spirit had changed. I don't know if it's a home life issue or what, but a definite change. It made me a little sad for her that she had to grow up in this situation. She has a mom and dad who love her and 2 younger siblings.
Then in late September, Grace had her 8th B'day party for her friends of hers from school to come over. One of her friends had asked if her older sister could come with her, who is 9 or 9 1/2. I said that was fine, since Grace kind of knows her. This little girl was very sweet, but I could sense that something was different. She seemed a little reserved, even though she was totally content to talk away while all the other girls were playing. The stories she had to tell me all had a common theme, stories of how as a toddler, or young child she got hurt, at home, by some accident, that didn't seem to be the fault of the parents, but that she seemed to dwell on these things. I got the chance to talk to her a little about her home life, and what she thought about things.
Then just the other day there was a group of little kids that live down the street from us playing out at the intersection in front of our house. One little african american boy had a 2 liter sprite bottle that he was carrying around, and drinking, which may seem innocent enough to the passer by. But the very first image that popped into my head was that he was trying to drink it in the same mannerism as he had possibly seen someone close to him drink a 40 oz. It saddened me deeply. There is a large group of kids that live down the street from us, in that same area that I won't let the kids play. I've heard that a lot of that area is Section 8 housing, which may or may not be true. But there is a common theme, that a lot of them live in poverty, and many from single parent households, and more often than not, the parents are paying attention to these kiddos and are just letting them out on the street to do whatever. We've had issues before with groups of older kids from that area, with a bb gun incident as well as loitering. But these little kids down the street are probably pretty harmless. It made me think that they're no different than the families that I serve with all my heart at the crisis pregnancy center, that could be in similar life circumstances.
I guess I'm having a mentality shift of sorts. I'm torn between being a protective parents of my 2 kiddos, but also wanting to reach out to these kids who are need of desperate positive attention.
I'm sure a lot of you have heard me complain about some of these kids, who have no boundaries, and parents leave them home alone, etc. and how I feel so burdened having them as neighbors. I mentioned to a friend at church a while back about this situation, and she said, "Well maybe God is calling you to serve them as your ministry." and I really all but laughed at her, because I had just been so irritated with these kids. I know 100% for sure that I am living where I'm at for a reason. God has made that perfectly clear through many things. Now, it's just a continuation of what my complete purpose may be.
It must be the counselor part of me, wanting to reach out and help everyone in need. I've always been a good listener, and really good at reading people through verbal and non-verbal clues. Being a counselor the last 6 years, I've come to know a lot of different people and situations. These young children, Grace's friends reaching out to me, I feel like they need someone to help them as well. I don't think they're being abused, but I do think there is a huge difference in growing up in a family that loves and cares for their children vs. a dysfunctional family, or that maybe doesn't grow up in a Christian home. And I know I have friends and family who have grown up in all different types of backgrounds, and I'm not judging anyone's parents or upbringing, because I know we all have parts of our past that are hard to deal with.
So with all this said, what I'm trying to lead up to is that the topic of Foster Care and Adoption has been on my heart a lot lately. With different friends adopting babies from Ethiopia, to people at church doing foster care. This past Sunday morning it was mentioned at church, then that night on CSI, someone had grown up in foster care. So I prayed Sunday night for God to show me a sign, or to open my heart about this subject. Then Monday morning, I came across a fb update about how November is adoption awareness for churches. And then later that night another tv show, where the main person grew up in foster care. Tuesday morning, Braden says to me out of the blue, " Mommy, you're only Grace and I's mommy right?, You're not anyone else's mommy are you?" And I told him no, I'm only you and Grace's mommy. Lots of signs right?
Since we're not able to have anymore children, unless God decides otherwise, it makes me a little sad for our decision to not have anymore kids. We were in a financial mess then and under a tremendous amount of stress, and strain on our relationship. Throwing another child in the mix wouldn't have been the best thing. I don't know if it's more that Braden's 4 now, and Grace was 4 when I had him, that it seems like at that age, it's when I'm more mentally ready to even think about the idea. How fun it could be for them to have a brother and/or sister.
I've looked through many local adoption sites, that have children that are waiting to be adopted in foster care. Some are sibling sets. Earlier this year, a God thing happened. A woman from my church needed a new place to live, and the duplex across the street was available, and so she and her adopted son moved in. She's had a rough time with stuff going on since then, but she told me she knows God has a reason for her living there. She also used to be a foster parent. I've asked her to speak with me next week about the foster care process, from her point of view. I've heard some really negative things about one adoption agency, and I know that everyone has different experiences etc. I'm so glad that she's there as someone to talk to about this potential process.
The biggest thing for me is that if we were to go through with it, it would be a huge change for our family, adding another child or 2 in there, to live part time or permanently with our family. That just now when I'm gaining freedom with only 1.5 yrs til Braden starts Kindergarten, that I could potentially be sacrificing what we've been used to and having a whole new life experience. Most likely the children would be older, for a boy, not older than 6, and for a girl not older than 9 or 10, so they could be close in age to the kids. And really most of the kids in the foster care system are past the baby and toddler stage, and are in a state of limbo until they find a new home.
One of my best friends in HS was adopted, and I have 3 cousins who were adopted, and so I know that those situations can work. I just have to find out where God is calling me to in all of this, whether to do community outreach to those hurting in our own neighborhood, or whether it's potential foster care, or adoption. In the midst of that, I had thought of going back to get my Nursing degree in a few years, and now it's torn again with getting a Master's in Social Work. The same 2 things that I was torn between when I went off to college 11 years ago. Two fields of study, that my dad told wouldn't make any money, and that it wouldn't be a good idea. Being naive and stupid listened to him (since he was paying for my schooling) instead of listening to my heart. My heart has been telling me these last 6-7 years that that's where I need to be. Working with a non-profit, or helping people in need. My heart just aches for these people in our community, and the children that sometimes fall by the wayside that need love and affection.