Looking Beyond

Last night was hard. The past few weeks have been rough. For several months we've been struggling, me and our child.

For fifteen years we've maintained general order and routine in our home despite the comings and goings, and ups and downs of the foster care system and the amazing variety of personalities and behaviors that have lived here. When adopting from the foster care system, a commitment is made to live a lifetime of searching for a way to achieve a level of "normalcy" - although I am more and more convinced that "normal" is overrated.

It's a huge blessing to be able to protect my kids; it's a privilege to teach them to protect themselves and serve others; it's an honor to watch them grow and learn and serve. For some of our kids, we've had since before birth to begin nurturing and protecting; for some others, we entered their lives a bit later, after some initial trauma had already touched them - even before birth through substance use and abuse; for some it was years of abuse, neglect, abandonment, domestic violence - unthinkable, and seemingly un-survivable situations - until they were rescued.

Imagine never knowing that your parents were supposed to care for you, not care about you - that's a different concept altogether. But just care for you - food, shelter, warmth, clothing, school, safety; those basic things, imagine they are missing. Then imagine being rescued, someone caring enough to provide the basics. How would you respond? With gratefulness? With reciprocal kindness?

Perhaps not for a child for whom that kind of care feels uncomfortable, foreign, even scary. Anger, deceit, and destruction are the responses we've received.

Frustration stems from anger that things have changed; no matter how horrible and hurtful life was before, at least it was familiar. All this love and care - who can trust it? Maybe birth parents used the word "love" in their own way, different ways; and that love caused pain.

Deceit comes in the form of excuses and blaming, in the same way that adults in the birth family rationalized their own unhealthy and inexcusable behavior. No one is responsible for themselves or anyone else; every man for himself; if you can't trust anyone, you have to do what you need to do to survive, which includes lying and stealing - at home, at school, at a store - and becoming such a master of believability that they even believe their own lies.

Destruction of property, even their own, is a form of sabotage, of testing the strength of our mettle to stick it out. While deceit is a defensive method of protection, destruction is offensive - it is seeking to destroy whatever trust has been built. Once our family and home is ripped apart (at least in the perspective of this child), then we can be blamed for not being trustworthy or for being "bad" parents. And as a natural consequence, when trust is obliterated, privileges are revoked and boundaries tightened - because we love our kids and want to protect them. The desire and ministry we have to protect kids is often the very thing they are fighting against. The more we seek to love, nurture, and protect, the more broken and busted things around the house.

So last night we found some more of those stolen, hidden, and busted up things that had been lied about. When confronted, my child began to blame us for not providing needed things, then began to blame a sibling. When given instructions to get ready for bed, the child responded in anger and non-compliance; we responded with silence.

We allowed our child to be in the kitchen, staring me down while I packed lunches. The packing was slow and steady - to give me time for a conversation with God; I begged Him to give me some idea, some words, the right tone of voice. And God is faithful. He gave me a soft tone and clear words - if pressed to recall them now, I am unable - for just that situation.

Instead of confusion, there was clarity; instead of anger due to the destruction, there was sadness over what my child has suffered. I explained that, while a difficult past does not give an excuse for destructive behavior, it does help to explain it; and that while we don't understand the trauma, we are here now to demonstrate love and safety. And my child looked me in the eyes while I talked.

And then came the part of the conversation which always causes this child to tear up and quickly look away: "We love you. We chose you. We are your family, and you are stuck with us." Hard words to hear, hard words to understand, hard words for this child to believe.