Nappy Hair, Shredded Shoelaces and Financial Decisions: Learning to Be Happy With What We Have

Nappy Hair, Shredded Shoelaces and Financial Decisions:  

Learning to Be Happy With What We Have 

December 12, 2013

We were already supposed to be in the car on the way to church when my 7-year-old comes to me with nappy hair.  We took down her hair yesterday with the intent to wash and re-braid it. 

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, I spent last night in deep conversation with my daughter about some pretty tough subjects.  And today, her hair isn’t even brushed because even that would take 30 minutes and it really needs to be wet and reconditioned to do it well. 

To make matters worse, this same child shredded her shoelaces yesterday when she tried to get them untied after she played in the mud.  It wasn’t her fault.  They are designed to shred so we will have to buy more.  But I have only had $1.09 in my bank account since November 24, the day after my daughter’s beautiful wedding, and we try not to use credit unless it is absolutely necessary.  So buying new laces seems like a luxury.

So I make two quick decisions.  Let her go to church with nappy hair and hopefully find time to fix it before school tomorrow.  And meticulously braid the shoelace so that it can be re-tied. 

These were both choices. 

I could have chosen to skip church or buy new laces.  But I didn’t.

And life is all about choices.

Yesterday, I read that it costs $1.50 MORE per day per person to eat a healthy fresh diet.  That seems like such a small investment given the long-term benefits.  However, for our family, who already eats lots of fresh food, that translates to about $500 per month more than our current budget – the cost of pre-school for one of my young boys with some special needs.

Twenty years ago, when we were a 2-income professional family with three children, that was absolutely no big deal.  I could spend that much on clothes in one month. 

But our choices have led us down another path.

Quite frankly, I realize that we are so comparatively wealthy that the decisions I am going to write about look asinine to a divorced mother trying to raise 3 children alone, or to one of the poverty stricken families that our family engages with on a daily basis.  

We are not wanting for anything that we really need.  But in the social, financial, and neighborhood circles that are my life, we know that we are not the norm.

I guess my thoughts are really for those of us who have the capacity to make choices. I’m speaking to those of us (myself included) who recognize that sometimes we really aren’t making choices at all.  Rather, we have fallen into the trap of believing that we must or should have something to show for our hard work, our position of privilege, our education, or our training – even if that means going into debt to have it.

I dare to say that we aren’t actually choosing.  Rather, we have allowed ourselves to be conditioned by the world of marketing, fashion, privilege and planned obsolescence to believe that we actually need a fancy house, expensive clothes, a zillion extra-curricular activities, lots of toys, a new car every two years, and generally, the best of everything – or at the very least, the best we can afford or obtain on credit.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not criticizing those who make these choices.  I have made them myself more times that I care to admit.  I still do. But I’m trying to re-condition myself to understand the difference between want and need.  The difference between it would be nice and I can wait or forego it all together. 

I was raised with incredible opportunities.  My parents were not even remotely wealthy, but my parents modeled for me how to live frugally and without credit, while sharing everything we had and never asking for anything in return.  

Moreover, as far as I know, my parents never made a decision based on what other people had or thought about us.   We weren’t given the latest and greatest anything unless it was useful to our lives in some way.  I recall a blow dryer and a calculator as the really big gifts for the entire family one Christmas in the mid-70’s.  

We didn’t have a color television or the trendy toys.  We had baby dolls and erector sets and crafts and Lincoln logs and Legos and swings and sandboxes and trees.  (The fact that my father was an architect might have something to do with all the building sets.  I had never thought of that before!)

My mother cooked every night and we had visitors at our home almost all day every day.  Yet, she made one major monthly shopping trip (and smaller trips for fresh goods) and we rationed food.  She made the same amount of food every night – no matter who joined us for dinner.  And somehow, it was always enough.

With the help of my parents, I made a lot of good decisions when I was a young adult.  I was able to attend law school because my parents had the foresight to invest in my education throughout my life.  My first house (which my grandparents helped me buy) made a huge profit in a short time, which set the stage for our future homes. Even after I quit working to stay home, my husband’s career, his choice to quit renting space and move his office to the basement of our home, and the booming economy allowed my husband and me to invest in a much larger home that was custom built for our fast-growing family of birth, foster and adopted children. 

The story of our home is wonderful, miraculous and heart-warming in and of itself. Many people, including the builder and many of the sub-contractors, went above and beyond to give us exactly what we needed, as well as some of what we wanted, to raise our super-sized family. 

As a result, we live in a great family-oriented neighborhood with caring neighbors who look out for each other.  Our home is 6600 square feet designed to blend into our mixed income, but upscale neighborhood.  However, our home is furnished in what I like to call “Early American Thrift Store.”  I pinch pennies every day.  Yesterday, as I finished pre-cooking 40 pounds of potatoes that I got for $8.00 at Aldi and then washed 15 Ziploc bags to re-use, I ruminated about how time-consuming it is to save pennies.

Things are different than they were in the 80’s and 90’s.  The economy has tanked.  My husband has lost many of his clients, in part because his clients have lost their businesses.  We have chosen to care for 21 children and we financially support almost all of them in some way.

And instead of practicing law or teaching, I’m staying home always looking for ways to be thrifty and save money. (Now that I think about it, I would have to have an excellent job to justify the childcare expenses for our 8 children that would need childcare, so working isn’t really an option anyway – but it was when we had many fewer children.) 

Nonetheless, for us to have so many children and for me to stay home and forego my potential income, we have to make choices.  And we choose to make do.  We choose to scrimp and save. 

We choose to allow our nappy-headed girl with braided shoe strings go to church looking pretty raggedy. 

We choose to live in an upscale neighborhood where we are sure our children are safe and free to roam around. Yet, we choose to wear hand-me-downs,  clothes that are donated to us, and what we can find at thrift shops, consignment shops and garage sales.

We choose to drive older model cars until they literally can’t be driven again, and to leave the bumper hanging down on our ugly 15-passenger van, which was damaged by a hit and run driver in front of our house.

We choose to send homemade nutritious snacks (that the kids hate) to school instead of the more convenient, but expensive, junk food that they LOVE!

We choose to have 8 bedrooms filled with young children and many of our young adult children, who use the bedrooms when they need them.

We generally choose to give away everything when we finish using it, rather than selling it to make money.

We choose to have a family of 5 living in our basement with a make-shift kitchen and a half-bath with huge painter’s canvas stapled to the 2x4’s, because we spent our money on the toilet and sink and decided not to invest our resources in having it sheet rocked, finished and painted. (If we had more money, we would add a bathtub!)

We choose to allow our 5-year- old to wear pants that are 4 inches too short – not because he must – but because he insists on wearing the tan corduroy pants with pockets. 

We choose NOT to give our kids extra money in their lunch account for ice cream, and we rarely give them money for junk food except on very special occasions.

We rarely choose to eat out because it could easily cost $60-100 per meal to feed us – even at a fast food place,  although we hate that we miss multiple opportunities to socialize with our friends.

We choose not to give our kids money to spend every time they ask.  Ironically, as I type these words, my 6-year-old runs up to me from basketball practice begging me for money to get a drink from the vending machine.  With no qualms, I tell him to go get water from the fountain.  But my resolve doesn’t lesson his determination.  Even when he pleads that he is sooo thirsty and he doesn’t want water, and he’s hungry and he will find something "healthy" like chips, I stand my ground.  

Instead, we choose to give our children a very small allowance that forces our children to make choices too.

We choose to allow one particular kid, who shall remain nameless, to wear the same stupid shirt over and over again (washed daily) because it is his favorite.  Even though they have plenty of choices.  Even though it looks like he doesn’t have any choice.

I say these things not because I want anyone to feel sorry for us.  

There is absolutely no reason to feel that we are somehow missing something.  We have good credit.  We can borrow money.  If there is a real need – our parents or family or friends will help us – often without us asking.

Don’t get me wrong.  We feel grateful and honored and loved when people take the time to notice what we need (or want) and either ask us how they can help, or simply surprise us.

But we try not to live in expectation that this is how we will manage to keep up with society’s view of what we should have and what we should do. 

I don’t think it is an accident that we tend to surround ourselves with people who could care less that we don’t keep up with the Jones’.  There was a long period when I felt judged and guilty because it looked like my kids didn’t have equal opportunities – although I really think it was my insecurities rather than other’s actions that caused my feelings. 

The reality is that others know our situation and our choices and when our children are with them, some choose to pay for things that we can’t, or that we decide against.   I would never know about these acts of kindness, except that my children tell me.  These people know that we aren’t in a position to make the same choices or to reciprocate in kind, so when they choose to bless my child –  I have learned to feel grateful without feeling embarrassed.  I rest knowing that these friends are making their own choice and I don’t have to feel guilty because I don't provide everything for my children that they are providing for theirs.

I don’t worry that my kids are in need.  If there is a need that we can't meet alone, God will prompt someone to give us exactly what we need when we need it.  And if we are impatient and have a need, then we aren’t too proud to ask for help.

I don’t worry that my kids aren’t wearing the newest, most up-to-date clothing.  As an independent thinker and non-conformist, I love that they have each developed their own sense of style.  Well, I must admit I don’t always love the way they look and I would hesitate to call some of it a style– but it is a price I’m usually willing to pay --  unless they are going to a place where it is important to ME that they look a certain way.  Just so you know, I did have to draw the line at wearing underwear yesterday! One of my young boys decided that going commando was a good idea.  I had a strong opinion about that!

I don’t worry that my kids have already spent their allowance and don't have money to go to the movies, or the arcade, or out to eat, or whatever with their friends every time that they are asked. I’m training them to make choices and decisions for themselves.  I would love to have the money to freely allow them do more without worrying about taking money from the food budget, but like myself as a child, I think that our limitations force them to be more creative and resourceful and ultimately, more responsible. And I have witnessed the blessings of others as they give their time and money to us and to our children – not looking for anything in return.

I don’t worry because I know that I take into account my childrens’ emotional needs when making each financial decision.  There are times when one of my kids has an emotional NEED to feel special, or to experience something, or to try something out - and that is a priority.  So no matter how broke we are – I will make sure that we use our limited resources in a way that helps meet this child’s emotional and psychological well-being – to the extent that money makes a difference.

So, some days, hair and clothing gets missed, I forget to send in the 50^th white t-shirt for an art project, the nap towel gets forgotten, or we don’t buy the professional photos of our child’s first day of kindergarten and a photo with Santa, because we have chosen to dedicate our limited resources, like time, money, emotional strength, etc., to something we think is more valuable.

In the end, I want to be okay with what we have.  I want to be satisfied.  I don’t want to be trying to look for the next best thing.  I’m not there yet.  But I don’t want to try to keep up with the Jones’.  And I want the same for my kids.  I want them to be happy and grateful for what they have – even when it isn’t what others have.

That requires choices.  And we make them every day.  Some good.  Some bad.  Some wise.  Some not so much.  But in the end, we want to be known as a family that trusts God to provide what we need, even when it isn’t what we think we want. 

And that’s my approach to Christmas this year.  I want to go into that day satisfied with what we have, and knowing that what we are given is exactly what we need. And that is good enough for me. 

Answering Your Life's Calling

This entry originally appeared as a guest blog for Catie Lumpkin's ThisHighCalling.blogspot.com for Foster Care Month, May 2013.  Check out her blog!

Preface:  I am a 50-year-old mamma with 20 children that are legally ours and another 30 or so that have come through our home.  I grew up as a foster sibling to medically fragile children and then became a foster and adoptive parent when I married.  I have been living this lifestyle for 40 years. 

Sometimes, I feel that I’ve become too jaded and tired to recruit foster and adoptive families. But then I remember that in the face of thousands of obstacles, my husband and I continue to choose to follow this path.  That speaks volumes to me about our relationship to our calling.

I know that my views are not universal.  There are plenty of people who will tell you to do what feels good.  What makes you happy.  I disagree with that basic premise.  I don’t believe we were put on this earth to find “happiness” for ourselves based on whatever we feel at any given moment.

In that light, my words do not address the tremendous need for foster and adoptive parents of older children (which I define as any child old enough to remember details of their past).  The need is well-documented. 

If you are reading this and you are already a foster or adoptive parent, you are likely to understand, but may need conviction to endure this journey. 

If you are thinking about fostering or adopting, I challenge you to read all the way to the end.  My approach is not particularly designed to make you feel good about yourself or about the potential impact you might have on these children.

Likewise, it is not designed to dramatize the incredible needs through sob stories. They are too numerous to repeat here.

Instead, I have chosen to focus on God’s calling and the need for you to carefully examine whether fostering and adopting older children (or any children at all) is your calling. 

 Answering Your Life's Calling

By Anna Giattina Lee

Within a week of living with us, the truth spilled out from our new 6 ½ year-old daughter.  From the backseat of my Suburban she revealed with determination,  “I’m going to make you hate me.  I’m going to make you send me away.” 

She was too young to realize that she was showing her hand, but old enough to know the drill. 

If she can intentionally behave so badly that we have no choice but to fear her. 

If she can “act” her way out of our home before we have a chance to get to know her and decide that we don’t like her or that she is too hard to keep. 

If she can create and/or determine the events that make us send her away BEFORE she has a chance to care about us.

Then  - in some small way - she feels like she is in control.  And control is something she desperately seeks.

Unconditional love. Unconditional acceptance. 

How do you persuade someone to open up his home, his life, his family, his church, and his heart to lost and hurting children that need temporary or permanent care?

How do you ask someone to set aside there own desires and make what could be a long-term commitment to someone that they haven’t even met and may not connect with right away? 

In a country where we promise to stay in our marriages “until death do us part,”  yet even active professing Christians regularly divorce,  how do you communicate to another that unconditional love and commitment is a choice, but once given shouldn’t be broken?

How do you explain that - after a short honeymoon phase - for the most part these young people will act like they don’t want to be a part of your life;  they will challenge you, your patience and your self-control in hundreds of ways on a daily basis; and they are likely to reject you and your values for longer than you can imagine or justify.

How do you help someone hear the calling on his or her life, when it goes contrary to the “I deserve to be happy” American philosophy, and the “God wants me to be happy” Christian agenda?  

How can my commentary compete with famous evangelical Christians like Pat Robertson, who last August declared to a single woman with three adopted children that was having trouble finding a relationship: “A man does not want to take on the United Nations.”  Mr. Robertson went on to describe a dear friend that adopted “a little kid from an orphanage” that was brain damaged and grew up “weird.” 

How can I compete with the fear of weird perpetuated by famous Christians?

Before Mr. Robertson realized the error of his words, he continued, “You just never know what’s been done to a child before you get that child.  What kind of sexual abuse there’s been, what kind of cruelty, what kind of food deprivation etc., etc., etc.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhyJpLIpRVA.  He concluded that thought saying, “You don’t have to take on other people’s problems.”

Respectfully, I say, “No sir.  We may have no idea about their past experiences. The kids didn’t make the choice to be abandoned, neglected or abused. And yes, even with our best efforts, they might grow up “weird.”

In his defense, Mr. Robertson did suggest that people can help orphans in other ways, “but that doesn’t mean that you have to bring them into your home.”

Unconditional love.  Unconditional acceptance. It’s a choice.

Looking at Mr. Robertson’s words in their best possible light, he unwittingly makes the point that you have to choose to foster or adopt. No one can make you do it if you don’t want to.  To that degree, I agree.

Absolutely, positively no one should foster or adopt if he or she is not called to it. 

Notice, I did not say “if you don’t feel called” to it. 

It’s too easy to deny the feeling to do something that is going to be hard and change your life.

So the real question is:  Who is called?

I wish I had that answer. But that is a question that I must defer to God and his Believer.

When people learn that we foster and adopt so many children, almost every person says the same thing, “I could never do what you are doing.” 

And I have a stock response. “Then don’t do what I am doing.  Do whatever God is calling you to do.  And I promise.  He is calling you to something.”

I know this is truth because of words like those found in Mark 10:45, “Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all.  For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

I wish I could cast my web of judgment and tell you directly that 

YOU should be caring for the orphans because knowing that there are no more lost or hurting children is a BIG deal for me.

But the call for all is to service.  What that service looks like will be different for each person because there are a tremendous variety of needs to be fulfilled.

The only thing I can be sure of is that God is calling more people to foster and adopt than are answering the call. 

We can choose.  We are given that privilege. But that choice requires more.  Unconditional love.  Unconditional acceptance.

As Believers, we have been unconditionally adopted into God’s family.  He is our Abba Father.  We are his children.  He loves us unconditionally.  But, as a member of God’s family, we are asked to set aside our own desires and accept God’s will for our lives.  God opens his home, his life, his church and his heart to the lost and hurting.

Like these lost and hurting children, sometimes in our struggle to walk with God we are angry or defiant and we don’t want to walk with him.  We blame him for our losses. We challenge his patience and wrath daily.  We often reject his values, just like stubborn children.

Are we any different from the children who test and challenge us and our commitment to them?

In my mind and heart, I believe that our Christian walk is designed to make us more like Jesus.  To follow his lead and his instruction.  To attempt, as best we can, to do what Jesus did.  If that is true, then how can we deny our role in caring for those who are needy?

After I wrote those words, it occurred to me to check the beliefs of my mind and heart with God’s Word.  I Googled “act more like Jesus.”  A verse came up that I had never noticed before in reference to fostering and adopting. 1 Peter 2:21-23. For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps.

You don’t get any special credit for enduring punishment for the consequences of your sin.  It’s expected. 

But if you do good and even in doing good you suffer and endure, God appreciates it.

The words that really caught my attention for the first time, perhaps ever, is that we have all been called to suffer. I tend to think of suffering as it relates to pain or loss.  But when I looked up the word, it also means, to “allow something, to be adversely affected, or to undergo something unpleasant.”

Somehow, these words in Peter explain so much about my not so popular views.

Unconditional love. Unconditional acceptance. We have a choice to accept our calling.  To suffer and endure.  To take up the cross.  To be more like the Savior we profess to worship.

I spent almost a month trying to figure out the words I wanted to convey to those who crossed my path. I didn’t feel like I was supposed to tell you about our foster and adoptive success stories, although there are quite a few. 

I didn’t feel like I was supposed to dwell on how good you will feel doing the hardest thing you will ever do.

I didn’t feel like I should focus on the rewards that come from following God’s calling on your life. 

Perhaps it is because I’m a little old fashioned and I really really really don’t like to reward my kids for doing what they are supposed to do because it is the right thing to do.

I know rewards work – it is called behavior therapy – but I despise rewards for what is expected or required in life.  It goes against everything I feel inside and everything I want to teach my kids about the value of doing what is good or right simply because it is good or right. 

My thoughts suddenly seem so clear. 

Fostering and adopting is not something you do because you will see results or benefit from it. It is something you do because you are called to do it. 

Sometimes, it feels far more like suffering that anything else.  But God has never failed to let me know that he values what I do.  Sometimes, that is shown through a changed life.  Other times, he shows me that if I do whatever I do for His glory, then I’ve done my part regardless of the outcome.

It is important to understand that you don’t have to know how to do this incredibly difficult job before you accept the calling.  You don’t have to have all the answers. What I do is not based solely on my experience,  knowledge or perfection.  It is messy.  And sometimes ugly.  I act selfishly more times than not.  And I get angry and frustrated and tired.  I want more time for myself.  I want the problems to simply go away. 

But God equips. God provides.  We are the vessel.  Ironically, God will work far more on Us and our character than We will ever do for the children he brings into our life.

All this takes me back to the story of when my newly adopted daughter challenged me at that stop sign during the first week she joined our family, I had very little experience with older children joining our family? But I knew what to say.

I glared at my 6 1/2 –year-old in the rearview mirror and said firmly, “You can make me angry and you can make me not like you.  But you can’t make me send you away.  We promised to love you and keep you and we will, no matter how you act.”

When I said that, I had no way of knowing the impact those words might have on her little mind and spirit.  But two years before she died in an automobile accident, she wrote some significant words in a Mother’s Day letter to me, “I still remember the first night I met you in Missouri. You didn’t phase me a bit. I thought you’d be gone in no time. I played that game way too many times, I knew how to win. But life has proven me wrong. I can’t win everything and I can’t do it all by myself.”

My heart’s desire is that you are convicted to think hard about your calling in this life.  I’m not trying to guilt you.  Nor to persuade you.  Because both of those will lead to a short-term commitment to whatever you do.

I want undeniable conviction for whatever your calling.

As a foster or adoptive parent, you will certainly need a deep-seeded desire and commitment to follow through no matter what.  And there are likely to be a whole lot of “no matter whats.”

It’s hard.  Very hard.  But I have NEVER wished that I was given another calling.

Post script: For other things to read that support my thoughts, here are a few sites to visit.

http://www.afamilyforeverychild.org/kids/AdoptingATeenager.php

http://www.adoptinfo-il.org/teensneeduncond/

http://www.adoptinfo-il.org/delayed-blessing/

http://www.adoptinfo-il.org/myadvice/

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1198914-5,00.html

http://lifelineadoption.blogspot.com/search/label/Domestic

http://www.davethomasfoundation.org/about-foster-care-adoption/

http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tgc/2012/09/25/factchecker-divorce-rate-among-christians/

More Children. More Milk.

Written in February 28, 2007, when we added Child #14.

The call just came.  Actually, it came yesterday afternoon. Due to circumstances beyond her control, the seven-year-old sibling of three of our current long-term foster children needs a new home.  I knew that we would take her because our mission has always been to keep sibling groups together. But our routine life is so busy, I don’t even get a chance to tell my husband until early the next morning, just as he wakes up. 

“Honey, I forgot to tell you that we have a new child coming next week," I mention casually. "Actually, we know her.  We have been taking her siblings to visit her and she’s the one that stayed here at Christmas and a few other times this past year."

“Okay,” he murmurs, as if I just announced that I was going to run to the store to pick up another 4 gallons of milk for breakfast.

This is so strange.  When did adding another long-term child to the family become so routine that the entire conversation takes less time than brushing my teeth?

“She’ll be here March 6.”  I tried to get the current foster mom to hold on until March 21 so that we can have a little more time to adjust to our latest models -- our 2-week-old grandchild and our 20-year-old college student that just moved back home -- but it doesn’t work out.

“How does she feel about it?” he inquires.

“Oh, I think she’s excited. She’ll get to be with her siblings and niece and she loves them,” I say hopefully.

So, we are now officially parenting 14 children, plus a grandchild at least 2 weekends a month.

The new one is a real cutie – but active.  Things will be very different in a few days.  She will arrive in the midst of the unstoppable routine of our daily lives.  Yet another child joining us with no preparation, no real thought… just an acceptance that we are parents again.   

People keep asking me if I feel stressed.  I should be.  And usually I am.  But right now I’m just taking each minute as it comes.  There is a point at which it is no longer possible to remain in control.  To plan.  To predict.  I don’t know exactly which child caused me to realize this – but I finally did.

More times than not – which is better than when I was younger and I thought I had it all under control – I can actually remember that lesson and I just go with the flow. 

Postscript:  In 2011, we adopted this child and her siblings.

Patience: Social Workers. Judges. Lawyers. And Life.

For those of you following the Lee Family Story, I'm out of town and can't write very easily.  There will be a short pause in the story until I return.  In the meantime, I will post a few things I have written that I have not yet shared.

I was wrong.  Today I realized there is one area in my life in which I am patient.

I’m sitting in the general waiting area of family court, thinking about patience.  I have to think about it because every time I come here I have to BE patient.  This is a place filled with conflict.  A place where troubled moms and dads and parents and new born babies and children all congregate because the parent(s) allegedly did something wrong.  Alcohol. Drugs. Neglect. Anger. Abuse. Abandonment. Poverty. Hopelessness. Lack of Education. And More.

It is also a place where people are trying to get their life together – or thinking that they are trying to get it together --  believing that they are entitled to more.  More time.  More chances.  More help.  More understanding.  More grace.

And sometimes they want less.  Less blame. Less responsibility.  Less accountability.  Less hopelessness.

The people around them have several duties: to protect the child, provide help for parents willing to conform to routine pre-printed court orders, and to try to protect the natural parent-child relationship. Some well-meaning over-worked attorneys try to provide legal help and representation – sometimes spending less than 10 minutes on the case before having to represent their client’s interests in the courtroom.  The nuance is lost.  Attorneys and judges and social workers tend to revert to pre-conceived (and often well-justified) ideas about the particular facts of the case. It is routine.  In part, because the truth is that there are many similarities in the stories that are told in the courtroom. 

But humans (or at least American humans) don’t like to grouped into a category.  They want to be treated as an individual.  Humans don’t want be attacked.  Humans don’t want to be told they aren’t doing it right.  Humans don’t want to have their children taken from them.  It’s natural for there to be a lot of anger and resentment and bitterness on the part of parents and other caregivers when their blood is taken unwillingly. 

But part of the test is the parent’s ability to remain calm.  To sound intelligent and reasonable.  To avoid shouting or name-calling.  To recognize the power of the social workers and the judge and the attorneys and to know that they have seen it all before.  Acting irrational only feeds into the preconceived idea that they aren’t a suitable parent.

It’s a delicate balance. 

Today, the courtroom is crowded with about 200 people.  There are no seats.  Young men don’t offer them to their elders.  Perhaps no one told them about what it means to be a gentlemen.  Maybe they heard it, but that isn’t the most important thing on their mind.  Most are either a parent or a child waiting to hear their fate.  Offering seats to others isn’t the priority.

For my part I have had to learn to wait.  Patiently.  As a former attorney I used to think I had to fight.  To make my position known.  To be loud enough to be heard.  (I still have to do that at home.)  I thought I had to prove my point.  To convince people to follow me.  To persuade them that I was right.  And I still do that to some degree – but more patiently. 

Over the years, I have learned it is more effective to wait on God.  To wait on his timing.  Many times in the past 5 years, I’ve waited or a runaway child to return.  I’ve waited on a kid that hates me and sees me as the enemy to view me as the mom I want to be for them.  I have watched my children and courts make decisions that I knew were bad and wouldn’t last.  But after making my position known, I wait.  I tell the child and the workers that I will be waiting if things didn’t work out as planned.  Then I let it go.

Which causes grief on the part of some of my other children. They verbally question why I am not “fighting” for the baby that they love.  Why I’m not “doing something.”  And all I can tell them is that history has proven to me personally that if I am patient and wait, the right thing will happen.  Sometimes bad things happen in between, but I know that I’m not in control.  Blaming and getting angry does little for anyone. 

Now don’t get me wrong.  This doesn’t mean that I’m not frustrated.  Or angry.  That my concern doesn’t show through in my everyday mood and activities.  I still FEEL the pain.  I have just learned that I can’t act on it.  I don’t need to burn any bridges.  I can only build relationships.  And that takes time.  A lot of time.

So I find myself being more patient that I ever knew capable because God has shown me that he is in control of my life and the lives of the children he places in my path.  And after doing this for the better part of my entire life, that’s a good place to be.

IF only I could only be as patient with my husband!