Sixteen years ago a baby was born who we knew nothing about; in fact, it would be another 3-and-a-half years until we would first get to meet him in December 1999. Fred and his little brother (who was then 9 months old) joined our family as the second placement Stan and I took as foster parents.
At the beginning of the placement we were clueless - I am just being honest. We were brand new to the whole foster parenting thing - we were caring for a teenage girl who had just been placed two days before these little boys. So essentially, after being parents for nine SHORT months, we were now parents to a teenager, a preschooler, and two babies. How silly.
After several months of adjusting - mostly on the part of the parents - a new routine developed and I enjoyed caring for my passel of boys. Our teenage foster daughter went on to live with a relative and it was me and my boys. We took on potty-training and time-outs with gusto and had a handle on the situation. How silly.
As is often the case in foster care, the longer the boys were with us, the more details unfolded and then complicated the plans of the agencies. Visits with birth mother were increased, then decreased, then Fred's little brother was reunified with his daddy. Another adjustment. We were learning as we went along and rode out the bumps, asked questions, thought we understood the answers. How silly.
Months later we were approached about adopting Fred, and we said yes. He was, after all, our son in every way save being tagged with the Heisey name (and those dreaded wide, square feet!) And only weeks later - following a case worker change at the county - we were told that adoption was no longer a plan, but that Fred would be reunified with his birth mother and grandmother. That we were allowed to even consider adopting him was a mistake - but mistake or not, my heart was still broken. How silly.
Visits were increased and reunification did indeed happen. As foster parents we could only pray and trust God to protect Fred and his family, there was no way to maintain contact or know that he was safe. Putting our faith in God - not silly. But trusting a system in which the rights of parents are always put ahead of the rights of children. How silly.
Fourteen months after I stood in our garage and watched a case worker take Fred home to his mother, we got the phone call that in my heart I knew would come: Fred was back in foster care and could we take him. At that point we were caring for Eli, who was then four years old; Evan who was eighteen months old; two brothers ages two and seven; and another teenage girl. Later, the supervisor who called us told me that she almost didn't consider placing Fred in our home since we were so busy with all that was going on with the other five children. How silly.
Only a few months later we were again asked if we would adopt Fred, and again we answered yes. The paperwork took longer than necessary which meant that visitation continued and we were able to establish a relationship with Fred's mom which we decided would be beneficial to continue even after adoption. We later learned that in this particular case, that was a silly notion as it only served to confuse an already complicated situation.
With the adoption finalized and Fred wearing the Heisey name, we set about building a solid foundation at school - which previously had been lacking. We trusted the school system to place Fred into appropriate classes since it appeared that were some gaps to be addressed. But year after year, with little to no academic progress and our child being passed along and dropped through the cracks we approached the school about the situation and expected honesty and cooperation. How silly.
So that the school knew we were serious about wanting an education for our son, we hired an attorney to help us negotiate and navigate a plan. We documented, communicated, and compromised and in the end spent a lot of time and money to get what our son deserves - a school where his needs are addressed and he is able to learn and succeed. In the midst of those months of frustration I often felt that our efforts were silly.
The message at church on Sunday, April 1 was "Being a Fool for Christ." As I celebrate Fred's birthday today and think over the past thirteen years that I have known him, there were so many times that I'm sure our journey seemed foolish and silly. Looking at our situation from the outside I suppose some might ask why we would open our home and hearts to these children to only have them leave - sometimes to go back to less than satisifactory situations; why we would allow our lives and the lives of "our" children to sometimes take a backseat to the needs of our foster children; how we manage to raise five or more kids and give them all what they need; why we overload a busy schedule with family visits, therapist's and doctor's appointments.
Perhaps our lifestyle choice seems silly or even foolish. But the alternative: chosing to live outside of the will of God for our family - well, how silly.
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