Sorry for the delay in writing this post. It’s much easier to write in the middle of the night when the world’s asleep, but I’ve been sleeping through the night. I know....what a problem to have, right?! So, as promised, this post will attempt to explain how foster care fits into my weight loss journey.
In early 2015 I read a story about a six year old boy who was raped to death in Bella Vista (a town bordering us). I read terrible things going on in the world every day, but for some reason this one stuck with me. I became a little obsessed and read all the police reports and any articles I could find. I started day dreaming re-enactments of the events, but they were taking place in my early childhood home with my family. It was very disturbing. I asked God what I was supposed to do with this? Why did this case have such an impact on me? I immediately began thinking about the boy’s two sisters. Their parents were guilty of the crime and not only had these children witnessed (and been part of) all this abuse, but they now lost their entire family and everything familiar to them. How were they ever going to recover from this?
This scene kept playing over and over in my mind while I was driving and listening to the radio when an ad for a group called The CALL played. I started thinking about our capacity to raise more children. How given our experiences, we could make good parents to these kids who’d been ripped from their families. Through the loss of five of our babies, we have become good at attaching and loving a child quickly, and also letting them go. In my opinion, that’s the key to being a good foster parent. I felt like God was telling me he wanted us to do foster care and reminding me that we’ve been preparing for this journey for years, so I talked to Steve about it because I was sure he would tell me this is crazy and remind me of all the ridiculously hard things that go along with foster care. He would shoot the idea down, but I still got my points with Jesus for stepping out and asking. That’s how it works, right? Steve didn’t nix it. He said we should do it.
Fast forward nearly a year later and our home was opened to take placements. We ended up loving on seven children (I’m just now realizing that this a number used in the Bible to symbolize completeness....hmm....interesting). I still love those kids, think about them daily and pray protection and life over them. In this context, I want to focus on what two of our kiddos in particular taught me. I will use made up names for each of them to protect their identity, but if you know me, you know who I’m talking about.
The first child we’ll call Pete (bonus points for anyone who can guess how I came up with that name). He was a nine year old boy who was with us about eight months. He came to us full of energy, with no social boundaries, and an aversion to the truth. He is a smart kid who had never had any stability in his life or any adult pushing him to reach his potential. Until he met me. I believe if you love someone, you have a responsibility to help them be the best version of themselves possible. I did my best to help Pete with this. He didn’t appreciate it very much and we butted heads a lot. Many hours of homework were spent in tears and frustration by both of us. I told him I knew he could do it whether he did or not and I would not give up on him even if he gave up on himself. He tested that promise on a regular basis. It would have been easy for me to wash my hands of the situation, especially when I knew he would be leaving our home in a few months, but I didn’t. I love that boy and love doesn’t quit just because it’s hard. It steps up and loves harder. In those moments of frustration I realized that I don’t quit. I had always thought of myself as a quitter, but that wasn’t true. Even when I should, I don’t walk away from relationships. They may change, but people are important to me and if God has entrusted someone to my care, I will hang in there even to my detriment. Pete lives with his grandparents now, but we still get to see each other. He spent a week with us this summer and it warmed my heart to see how much he missed us and enjoys being with us. Wrigley looks at him as his brother and all his dreams would come true if we could adopt him.
The other child who played a pivotal role in this story we nicknamed “Little Red.” We brought her home from the hospital a week after she was born. She was a sweet, tiny baby girl who I love more than words can express. We had her for about three months before she died of SIDS on Mother’s Day 2017, on our watch. I have dealt with some hard stuff in my life, but this broke me. After a couple months I was still constantly reliving that night, trying to revive her. I started having panic attacks, sobbing spontaneously and I couldn’t stop, and felt out of control. It really scared me. I’ve dealt with depression in the past, but this was different. I didn’t know what to and shared with a few people what was going on before a friend who’s a therapist offered to see if she could help me through counseling. Money was tight (it’s always been tight) and there was no way we could afford for me to go to counseling, but she said she would take care of it.
This was the turning point in my story. If you’re still reading, you’re probably wondering what any of this has to do with weight loss. This is the point where I realized how I had been living my life in preparation for death and I was done with that. My friend started seeing me for a few weeks and after diagnosing me with PTSD, she treated me with a therapy called EMDR. It seemed stupid and I felt stupid doing it. How was feeling a couple controllers pulsate and saying affirmations going to fix the terror and panic I was feeling on a daily basis? Well, it did. Within a few weeks, the panic attacks stopped and I was feeling more like myself. I realized that I have lived my life feeling like a burden to everyone. This process brought up feelings of fear in my marriage and how dissatisfied with my life I was. I felt like my value in my relationships came from what I could do for other people and it was inconceivable that anyone could love me just for who I was.
This led down a whole path of self-discovery including the realization that I haven’t valued my life because I didn’t really care if I lived or died. Steve and Wrigley would be ok without me and I would get to be reunited with my babies. Sure they’d be sad, but they would also be free to find a new wife and mother who was able to sit at a booth and ride roller coasters.
Around this same time there was an event at church where some men who’ve devoted their lives to God and encourage others, came to deliver messages to us. No one told these men what was going on in any of our lives. They just joined us one evening and as we were singing, they would pray and ask God if he had a message for anyone. I know I’ve lost some of you at this point because this just sounds hokey. That’s ok. I thought it was hokey the first time I experienced it too, but this is powerful stuff! Most people did not have a message, but one of them had a message for me. He had written down what he heard from God as he was praying, pointed me out and read what he had written. Cue the tears. Here’s what the note said:
“Honorable Mother
In order to receive honor you have to have accomplished something. There was a trial that you conquered that is connected to the character of how you mother younger souls. Proverbs 31 is a picture of how people feel about what you accomplish.”
This came at a time when I was questioning if I was a doing any good as a foster mom, as Wrigley’s mom, or wife. I wasn’t suicidal, but I wondered if I really did bring any value to the world. According to God I did. I really recieved that message and let it take root in my heart. This changed my view of myself from being a burden that people tolerate, to me having value and purpose. My soul needed to hear that. I decided I was tired of existing and I wanted to live. Not just be alive, but to live in abundance of life. It wasn’t good enough for me to just survive anymore. I wanted people to look at me and see God radiating from me. That was not going to happen in my current package. How was I going to live in abundance if I couldn’t even walk a mile?
My insides were being transformed and I was finally ready to have the outside reflect who I really was because I really like that girl. I started connecting who I was in my head with my physical body and placing more value on seeing them as integral parts of me. I started learning more about my personality type through a study on the Ennegram (which will probably have it's own blog post soon, in the meantime, here's a good audio overview) realized that God created me to be a warrior. I am not a timid demure Christian woman and he doesn't want me to be. He made me to be a fierce gladiator for truth and justice. I am mentally ready to fight evil in this world, and now I'm preparing my body for the challenge.
But, that's another story for another post.
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