reflections

I can still hear his voice calling for me through the house.... "Heidi? Heidi? Heidi, where are you?" he'd wander around the house calling out and then when he found me, " Oh there you is! I was wondering where you were!"

For almost a week I had a little shadow that followed me everywhere. The only place I could get privacy was slipping into the bathroom and locking the door! And even then, when he'd figure out where I was he'd stand outside the door knocking, rattling the doorknob, and calling my name asking to be let inside. He hadn't yet learned that closed doors mean that you don't just barge right in!

He came at almost midnight on New Year's eve which was a Wednesday. He immediately started calling my mom "grandma." I have no idea why, since no one else calls her grandma. I was Miss Heidi or else just Heidi for most of those days. He missed his real mama and would call for her in his sleep. He talked about her nonstop and carried her picture around with him, hugging it and kissing it.

By the Monday after he came, he was introducing Daniel as "my brother" apparently not noticing that there was nothing about them that looked like they were related! By Monday evening the plan was for him to move to another home. That night I couldn't sleep and was dismayed at the thought of him starting the shuffle through foster care already. His little life had turned upside down so suddenly.

On Tuesday he started calling me "mama." I don't know if he really knew or believed that he would be leaving the next day. But all day long on Tuesday he would look at me and say "you're my mama." I knew of course that I was in no way taking the place of his real, biological mama. No one could take her place. But he had finally settled in and was feeling safe and secure. In spite of my own weariness I guess he trusted that I would meet his needs and hug him and hold him when he was scared, so I earned the title of "mama" at least for the time that his mama was not available to him.

And every time he called me mama, or would talk about "my grandma" I would cringe inside, knowing that all too soon we would be saying good-bye.

On Tuesday night after he went to bed we put together a book for him to take with him. I printed the pictures I had taken while he was here. I wrote a page all about him and talked about his personality, his likes and dislikes, and everything that I thought his new caregiver would need to know. I put the picture of his mama in there, and printed out a Bible verse. We packed his bags. He had come with nothing more than dirty PJs, a coat, and some crocs with no socks. He was leaving with more than he came with. And I cried.

To be honest, the 7 days that he was here were exhausting. He was the sweetest child, so loving, affectionate, and polite. But he also had habits that were different, he had fitful sleep for the first few nights, he was full of energy, and it was a huge adjustment for Daniel.

Partway through his stay here, he had the worst night where he couldn't sleep, wouldn't stay in bed, and went into a rage. We took turns with him and I held him while he screamed. Eventually he quieted, and then until midnight I was rocking him on the rocking chair. He was finally peaceful but unwilling to be put down. I held him and wept for the injustices that rob these children of a peaceful, stable childhood.

He came not knowing about God, not having a church background. We took him to church with us on Sunday and the teachers said that he did so well in class. He had the best time and sang the songs he learned over and over again. He began praying with us at bedtime, and praying before meals. He was blossoming.

He was brave through trauma. He was brave when it was time to leave and go in a strange car with a person he had met only once. I held it together until he left and then as they drove down the street the tears came.

People say, "how do you do that? I could never foster." But you could if God asked you to. I'm nothing special or out of the ordinary.  I get tired, weary. Some days this past week I thought I had absolutely nothing left to give to either boy. And in my own strength, I didn't. I am convinced that God does ask us to do things that are too hard for us to do in our own strength because then we rely on him.

The sorrow when he left was not just because I missed him, although I did. It was sorrow for him and the lack of stability in his life right now. It was sorrow that I wish I could save the world. But I can't and I know that. I wish every child could be loved well and not have to have trauma. I don't have the love, the strength, the resources to make an incredible difference. All I can do is one small part and put the rest in God's hands. For me, that is hard because I want to see the end result now, I don't want to trust that my small part will be one piece of a greater story.

So life goes on and now I'm back to planning other things, setting goals, organizing my life and work and family, enjoying friends and fellowship.

And prayer....now I add him to my prayers for Miss B. Although we do hope to stay part of his life and be able to be a support to his mama and hopefully she will be able to have him back. Lord willing, he will have a consistent home for now where he will be nurtured until it comes time to decide permanency. In this case I do hope for reunification. I hope that he will not be a statistic but that this will be a turning point for both him and his mama.