hope

In my journey of fostering/adopting, our family has done a lot of reading and research on subjects related to attachment, trauma, and loss in children. My degree was in Pscyhology/Christian counseling, so it's a subject I'm interested in anyway. I look at the person I was 6 years ago when I first decided that I would pursue a degree in Psychology/Counseling--hoping to be a therapist for abused children--and realize just how little I knew! And still, I have a lot to learn...not just learn but also implement.

One of the influences along the way is Dr. Karyn Purvis who works out of Texas Christian University and has had remarkable success in bringing healing and hope to families who have adopted especially difficult, hurting children. Many of the families she has worked with have children who suffer with severe attachment disorders and the families are desperate to find answers and hope. We have watched some of her DVDs as well as own her book "The Connected Child." (www.empowered2connect.org)

When we heard that there would be a 20-week workshop offered in our city this fall that was based on the book "The Connected Child" my mom jumped at the chance to be involved. My weekly schedule was already getting busy and I not only did not want to add one more thing, I also didn't want to acknowledge that it was something I needed right now.

Daniel is involved in a lot of activities and for the most part he fits in well in groups, he makes friends easily, listens to his teachers well, doesn't cause major disruptions, is smart, etc. etc. Maybe I felt that if I went to this workshop I would be admitting that there are still areas we needed to grow; there are still areas where Daniel lets us know that the things that he experienced in his first two years have not been totally healed.

I went to the second week of the workshop and decided I might as well have an open mind. I had been out of the foster/adoptive loop for a while, so it was nice to see some familiar faces. The facilitator got up to begin the meeting and I suddenly teared up. It was bizarre. I can be a "cry-er" anyway but I was totally not expecting this. One of the first exercises was for each person there to write on two different colored sticky papers: on one color you were to write the things your child does that are discouraging and on the other color you were to write things your child does that give you hope. Then we placed them on two different sides of a white board. She read all of the papers aloud and I was blinking back tears. The discouraging things that I listed--the two that I could think of--were anger and tantrums. I had many more positives: sense of humor, affection, enthusiasm, to name a few. Altogether the discouraging behaviors other parents listed included such hard things as no compassion, hurting animals, screaming "I hate you", wanting to go back to an orphanage, etc. The side of hope was encouraging, and for many of the parents just little things like allowing affection or being able to follow simple directions were enough to give hope.

In my daily interactions I'm not around many people who can relate to being in the foster system--the uncertainy of loving a child that will likely be removed, and then ending up adopting the child but now having the baggage that comes with muddling through "the system" while making efforts to reunify the child with its biological parents, loving a child who suffered trauma and loss and needs extra sensitivity, love, and healing. Perhaps that is why the tears started coming. I was sitting in a room of people--many who have children who are way tougher than mine--that understood. The know what it is like to have a simple thing cause a big meltdown and be at a loss as to what to do. They understand that sometimes all you can do is ask God for wisdom when you know your child is reacting from a deep place of hurt that they can't articulate and you really can't understand.

The facilitator asked if anyone wanted to share something that helped them in their journey. I was too teary to try to talk....but in my heart what I wanted to say was that sometimes after a hard day I will go in and look at Daniel sleeping peacefully. He is so beautiful when he is asleep. And as I look at him, I remember back to when he was a toddler and we were dealing with almost nightly night terrors and the future was so uncertain. It seemed that there were court hearings nearly every month and each court hearing could mean huge changes in his life. I would stand at his crib and cry out of exhaustion and anxiety. All I could do was trust that God would keep Daniel safe in the way that He knew was best. So I look at Daniel sleeping now as a healthy, happy 5 1/2 year old and even in the midst of rough days I tell myself that if God has brought us this far, He cannot let us down now. He will continue the good work He has begun.

And I believe I share that hope with all the other foster/adoptive parents in that room.