Tough Love

Man, I'd love to say that every day is roses and sunshine.  And just live by my highlight reel that appears on Facebook, but today was rough.  Tough love has been tough.

It was our first day of youth sports with our littles.  It was a stressful situation for my two loves in foster and my own youngest daughter, as well as me.  I've never been a fan of chaos, the lights, sounds, all the motion.  Even when my husband and I got married, he told me from the get go, "Our home will be a home of peace."  And for 20 years it has for the most part.  I had my own daughter in tears as she tried to defend a boy in basketball that was much taller than her and his size scared her, along with the fact that the coaches are yelling directions to each kid in the young league, the buzzer is going off each 5-10 minutes for quarters or breaks to end.  Then, my youngest little love looking shell shocked that her moment to play Tiny Tots Basketball had arrived and was not frightened to even try to follow directions from a stranger, even when she had played basketball with my others already.  And my next to youngest little love looking every bit confused and not sure where to look or focus or what to do, generally overwhelmed but the whole experience.

So, after all that, I did manage to get some smiles from them as they got their end of games snacks.  Almost like it was a reward for enduring that hard exercise.  I can only hope that this dive into youth sports gets better.  The time factor was what always held us back with my older teens, but no choice when CPS is forcing your hand to involve them in something like this.

Naps, ahhhh, my moments of joy.  Got a long 4 hour nap in for them all after basketball.  Thank God!

To which we woke, made and ate dinner, then went to the park for some sunset playtime.  And then the chore of shopping with three kids under 7 years old and a teenager.  As tedious as grocery shopping can be, I actually enjoy the task of making the list, marking it out, and preparing the meal list each week.  It speaks to my organized side.  And I'm really good at saying, "No" at the stores to all demands and requests from my group.

It's the last hour of today that has sent me into Tough Love mode.  When I give in and buy the carrots and celery and ranch you ask for, and you eat much of it, and then choose to spit on another's snack, then get removed from the kitchen table without getting to finish your snack.  Or when I then tell you to help push the wet laundry into the dryer, that's all, and you stand there screaming and crying at the top of your lungs without stop.  And I escort you to your bed for the night, and then after 30 minutes of crying and screaming at the top of your lungs in your bed, to which I sincerely hope the neighbor's aren't playing in their pool, where her bedroom window faces, so they won't hear that I'm really not touching or hurting you, you try to come and give me a hug.  Tough Love sucks sometimes.  I can't reward you for misbehaving or screaming.  But I can't also reinforce some weird idea that your love can be earned, because I will love you through the misbehaviors and craziness that has been done to you by others. 

Add to all this, having a sick husband since Basketball this morning, who has slept for now 12 hours straight, minus the 10 minutes he came to the dinner table, looked at it and made himself a grilled cheese and went back to bed. 

I finally leaned against the kitchen sink in exasperation only to realize that both sides are overflowing in dirty dishes, even through the dishwasher is running.  And my teenager is busily creating a masterpiece cookie dough recipe with Christmas music playing.  It's in that moment that I see that I am blessed, even in the craziness.  I'm not perfect, and Thank God for that!  And even though I may look through other's highlight reels on social media, I know they too will have rowdy and disorderly days.

So, to today, I say "Not Today Satan", because I will still praise the Lord in my hot mess of a day.  And I will still apply tough love and love all my kids in all situations.  And forgive me if I sit at the kitchen table and listen to Christmas music in June in Houston, while I eat my slice of apple pie, Nutella cookie that my teen made, and sip on my glass of ice cold Coca-Cola.

My Teen Baker

Confessions of a Foster Mom

Confession #1: Being a foster parent is H-A-R-D.
I had a teacher on my team this year who knew she was moving and selling her home and she would talk about how she had to make sure her home was "model ready" before leaving for school each day because realtors or visitors may come to look.  And all I could think of, having never lived through that, is that's exactly how I feel.  Maybe your gifting is hospitality, and to some degree that's a teacher, has to be, like customer service.  But when those drop in visitors rub you the wrong way, over stay their welcome, put your character or decision making skills into questions routinely, or judge your cleanliness skills (like a light bulb being out and reporting it), you become less like this.  And they keep coming back into your home, your "peaceful place" and disrupting.  They come monthly, they text you, email you, call you, ask questions that you've already answered to another worker, and on and on.  I mean, seriously, can't they just read the monthly reports I legally have to file, or read the group text message chat where I sent them all the info already?  I think I know how to raise a child.  I have 3 of my own biologically.  But I've never had a child who has been hurt or been in trauma like these.  And I have zero experience with making a blended family work.  My better half and I are coming up on 20 years married.  It's a learning curve for sure.

The part that makes my heart hurt is the uncertainty and stress that is displayed in my littles when someone comes into our home monthly, 3 separate visits per month, in the crazy behavior where they run around, act silly and refuse to talk coherently, jump on and off furniture, roll around on the floors.  And when the visitor leaves, they are their normal, settled self again.  I know they don't do it on purpose, but man this is hard reassuring them, reminding them that no one will hurt them here, or that this visitor will not take them away.  Especially that last one, when I don't know for sure, as their case comes near to the end.  I, myself, feel in a state of uncertainty, because I'm "not a party to their case", so how can I reassure them constantly and not feel exhausted from this?

Being a foster parent feels like an invasive procedure, like when I had any of my 3 C-sections where everyone is looking at everything God gave you, and pulling everything apart in surgery to get to the beautiful baby within.  And that's why I have another confession.

Confession #2: Being a foster parent is W-O-R-T-H it.
I say this confession, not because I feel like it sometimes, but as a reminder to myself daily.  Loving someone is a daily choice, that can be easy or hard, but a choice nonetheless.  I've seen my littles come out of their protective shells.  Where once they were afraid of the dark, now are no longer.  Where once they would stiffen and "straight board" you when you had to pick them up to put them in their car seat or do this when unlocking their seat belt that was between their legs, now, not at all.  And when I told them to "Go play!" and they just stared at me like, "What do you want me to do?"  And now when I say that, they run, and play, and laugh, and scream.  That's why I say it's worth it.

Putting yourself and your family out there for strangers to repeatedly judge, critique, invade is something that will make you feel so many emotions, and sometimes within the span of a few minutes.  But while it is hard, it is worth it, if I remember who all this fuss is for.

Interrupting Normal

It's been quite some time since I last wrote a blog post and much has happened in that time.  We officially became a licensed foster home.  We have some littles in our home now.  Hurricane Harvey hit our city, and while we didn't sustain any damage or injury, many, many, many not even 3 miles from us lost everything.  And we have now had 2 snow days for the 2017-2018 school year, something unheard of in H-town.  And I've gone from a Math/Science teacher to just Science (and Writing, if that even counts as a stand alone subject).  Many changes!

You know, we get very comfortable in our routines and life.  There was a long stretch in my marriage, where my husband and I said, "Us four and no more."  And then God blessed us with Beauty #3, six years after Beauty #2.  And for the last seven years, it's been the Windham Five.

For years, my sister talked to us about the possibility of becoming a foster family, and it just didn't seem like a possibility for us financially.  Or at times, with my husband's diabetes, our life seemed unstable and didn't have a rhythm to it.  But, it was like God was speaking to me and saying, "If you wait for the timing to be perfect, then you never will foster or adopt.  There will never be a perfect time."  And God is always right and always right on time!  So, in April 2017, we started on that journey by submitting an application with a child placing agency, started taking the classes, submitting records, etc to get our home ready.  And in October 2017, we officially became a licensed foster home.  It was so exciting for our entire family!  Our kids would share the updates as we went through the process with their Youth pastors, Children's pastors, teachers, family, etc. 

I watched a video recently introducing families to foster care and it said that families usually get into this for 2 reasons: to have a family or to give a kid a family.  For us, it was always, and will always be, to give a kid a family.  I really think that even with all the ups and downs, I have an AMAZING family that any child in trauma could benefit from.  We went into this foster/adopt process looking for a child that needed a home for forever.  Looking for a child that already had parent rights terminated, but would also be a good fit for our family.

So many things that happen to kids, that are reasons they are in care usually, are not something we often think about.  For example, with our 7, 13, and 18 year old girls, a teen boy would not be wise, not any older child who had been sexually abused (as they could possibly act out that same abuse on others), nor kids younger than school age due to child care situations.  You just never think about these things until you are placed into those situations.  But we knew, as we waited, that there was someone that God had for us to love on and care for as a FAMILY.

Our littles came to us though an emergency need for movement and we were linked though Facebook.  A need was voiced, we were tagged in it.  But due to our bedroom situation and their genders, just didn't know if we could help.  A few days passed, many other people responded that they wished they could help, but couldn't, and after 3 days, my husband told me to find out the CPS workers info and see what we could do.  All that to say, that 4 days after we contacted her, they were in our home.  And they have interrupted our normal every day since.  They have shown me the depth of love my family has, and the need for love they have.  There's a saying for teachers that I've often heard, "Those who need love the most, will ask for it in the most unloving ways."  And it fits in their situation to some degree.  Due to their ages and closeness to my own kids, they aggravate each other, just because.  But they also, play and care for each other much too. 

I love how they have shown me things about our Lord through their situation, like how God will never leave or forsake us.  How even when we are so extremely frustrating to God, He doesn't give up!  I've learned that no matter how much I try to steer their case in the direction I want it go, I can't.  I have no control and that's the way God wants us, to leave all control to Him!  I have seen adults disappoint me, promises made and not kept, words used against me.  I've had to explain to doctors what was done to them and have had to explain to the dentist that the color of their teeth, which shows neglect, was not from me.  I've watched their little hearts be broken when visitation is over, and been there to change their clothes when they wet themselves in the dentist office when an overwhelming sedation with restraint happened.  I've held them through tears and been the tough love giver when a temper tantrum starts.  I've also seen the generosity and kindness of foster closets, complete strangers to us, and family helping with new beds, clothes, and mattresses.  This fostering journey has been nothing I've been prepared for, could even have planned for, or imagined.  And at times, when I hope for things to go my way with their case, I also feel guilty for wishing that because it means that their bio parents and family fail.  It's a constant pull on my emotions and heart and strength.  But, I wouldn't have done anything differently.  And no way, could we have said no to having them in our home when a plea was made and not filled. 

Bottom line is our normal has been interrupted because we said YES to what God dropped in my spirit last year.  While the road looks uncertain, unsure, or scary, saying YES to GOD will have an eternal impact.

Do More of What Makes You Happy

My brain is so scattered today.  When changes in my family are made, it seems like my husband and I do not make them in incremental steps like so many others, but do it with gusto and usually big life changes in a row.  For example, when we were first married, I graduated college, moved 3 hours away, and had our 1st child all within a 2 week span.  When we had our 2nd child, we moved out of an apartment and bought our home when she was 2 days old.  I can still remember my husband driving all over Houston to various title offices and notaries to get our papers signed by this person and that person.  And when we had our 3rd child, my husband left teaching after 4 years due to layoffs in his district, with no job in site, and due to an illness with no insurance was hospitalized with surgery 6 months later.  So, many changes in quick spans of time.  The rest of our 18 years of marriage have just been steady, anti-climatic, stable times.

And now here we are in another season of change.  Today, well a week ago now (because I typed this, then had to stop and reflect), after 11 years of children's ministry work at our church, we resigned.  It happens to come in a season as we finished our application and training for foster care and our oldest is preparing to head out on her own to college.  So, I see big life events happening all at once again.

As I heard a minister say recently, churches weren't meant to minister to the churched, but the unchurched, it's a statement that has stuck with me for a couple of reasons.  I agree and disagree with it.  Yes, churches, and I mean the people, not the physical building, are designed to minister to the unchurched to share Jesus with them.  But I also believe that they are meant to minister to the churched.  To help them grow in their faith, to live life with them through ups and downs.

Some people are good at expressing and asking for their needs from others, and there are some like me, who are not.  I wrote a blog post recently about Crying Over a Hot Dog, where I explained that there are many doers of the world who serve with no expectations of return.  But sometimes, those doers become so lonely, even in a crowd, and feel left out.  That's where we've been living for quite some time.  Lonely in the midst of service.  A churched family neglected, left out.  So it was time to make changes.

In a recent heated discussion with my husband, he finally exclaimed, "What do you want from me?", to which I replied, "I want my helper. To help me in this home." And to which he replied, "I want more joy in our home. Where did it go?" It made me stop in my tracks.  Where had the joy gone in our home? See, in the midst of doing, rushing here and there, working, serving our church, and feeling hurt, the joy had left.  And why would my husband be my helper in that sad place?  Being the great man that he is, he chose not to, and I don't fault him at all.  Why join someone in a place like that?  I wouldn't either.  So, a change was needed.

I didn't want a friend that would invite me over just to try to sell me something.  That's not friendship, that's business.  I want friends for my husband, children, and me who will do nothing but listen to us and talk with us and maybe play some games from time to time.  Friends who want nothing from you except you.  So, we made the change and are so happy we did.  It's not been an easy change, but is any change ever easy?  As a family, we've decided to do more of what makes us happy...focusing on our 1st ministry (our family) by not waiting on invitations from others, but doing things together as a family.  We've seen fireworks, played games, laughed more at silly Dad jokes, and been less concerned about how others perceive us.  We're not leaving our faith behind, just taking it with us to a new place, and for all these things and many more, we are blessed indeed!

Pic credit

Keys to the Adoption Water Truck

Ok, crazy title to say that "Momma said there'd be days {or weeks} like this."

So, it all started with a very persistent and passionate sister about a year ago that dropped this seed of an idea in our hearts and minds about the remote, crazy possibility of fostering to adopt.  With 3 daughters of our own and a very tight, middle class budget, it just didn't seem like a reality for our family.  And I'm still not sure how much of a reality it is.  But after much prayer, many family discussions, the girls weighing in, an online orientation with the Youth and Family Services we'd be going through, and an ugly prayer time at church with a friend, I feel this peace that passes all understanding that still brings tears to my eyes.  Yeah yeah, the waterworks again...I promise no hormone checking needed.

Last week, my middle one didn't give us the kind notice of water shut off that gets hung on your front door when you forget to pay.  So, Tuesday, we all get home very late, no water at home.  Husband inspects to find a padlock on our water meter from the kind folks at the water district {said sarcastically}.  Knowing that we'd be hit with a large fee to remove it, we chanced it and cut said lock, after paying bill in full online.

Roll into this week and I stayed late Monday to complete the foster to adopt application, all 18 pages of it.  If you've ever had a child, filling out this application is a lot like having a baby.  It's very invasive, asking all kinds of questions, as they should.  It will get looked over by many eyes, like in a delivery room, and a decision will be made at some point in time, to determine if we are a fit family.  Again, there's this peace about the whole situation, knowing that we are stepping out in faith, not knowing the end from the beginning, not knowing how it will all work out.  And if you know me at all, you know these kinds of unknowns scare the living daylights out of me, which is where the ugly prayer time at church came in.  It was that fear of the unknown that lead to the entire box of tissues being used.  Ok, not really the entire box, but close.  We all (all 5 of us) rolled into the driveway about 8:30 pm to discover again, no water.  Husband inspects, and this time, the water meter itself had been taken.  We call the after hours number and they tell us we can't fix anything till 8 am Tuesday (today).  Knowing that I had to be on a field trip with my students today, my husband had to take a day off to tackle this large project.  After meeting with the crooks, I mean water district, and paying the said fee, water is restored.  You can ask me in person for more details if you want them, but I'll leave it at that.

So Tuesday morning, I'm off to school and while looking for my wallet, I notice my husband's truck keys in my cup holder.  I flat out panicked, calling frantically to see if he had a back up set of keys at home, only to discover that the oldest had taken the back up set so she could get in the house and get dressed for work before any of us got home.  So at 7:35 am this morning, with more tears, realizing that I had to be on a yellow bus to a field trip in 1 hr and 10 minutes and knowing that it was a 1 hr and 30 min round trip back home, with much prayer and breaking all speed limits, I raced home to deliver the keys so he could take care of the water district problem.  After the water district issues had been resolved, my husband decided to get my oldest daughter's truck inspected, so she could drive herself to work and school finally and quit relying on her Grandma taxi service, only to have it fail.  Why you might ask?  The power steering hose was cracked and the ball joints on the front of the truck were destroyed.  To be expected of a 21 year old truck, but the timing was just not what I would have liked.  If you aren't knowledgeable like me in car speak, it basically means she could have been driving anywhere in the next month and the front tires would have literally fallen off and she would have had no steering to help.  Not a good situation and not a cheap fix, but necessary.

And in the middle of all this, the dishwasher went kaput, but Thank the Lord for a home warranty that is covering a brand new dishwasher, not just a piddly part, but a whole brand new one.

Bottom line is that since we had the adoption thing settled in our minds and hearts, all these aggravations have crept in.  And that's all they are, irritants to take that peace away, or to try to.  The beginning of this journey has been riddled with mishaps and extra expenses, but God...

God is stronger than all that and I know we're headed in the right direction as a family towards the plans God has for us.  Plans to bring hope and a future to a child in need.  Plans to bring love and restoration to a child.  Plans to show our own children what it means to sacrifice and what love in action looks like.  Living life with another in need.  

So the keys to the adoption water truck have been crazy and I know there will be days {or seasons} like this again, but I find myself walking in faith that God has got everything under control and knowing that He's there in good and trying times.

Pic Credit

Crying Over a Hot Dog

Today, I cried over a hot dog.  I'm just going to let that thought soak in for a minute.

I know that sounds strange, like maybe I should have my hormones checked or something, but it was what that hot dog represented.  Follow me for a minute if you will.

There are many, and I do mean millions, of people who are the "doers" of the world.  They get things done.  They make things happen.  They are your teachers, administrators, parents, pastors, first responders, etc.  Day in and day out, they SERVE.  And it's generally not because of the extraordinary pay they receive, it's because it's who they are.  It's what they were born to do.  It's the work ethic that was ingrained in them from very early on.  It's because they see a need and without being asked, step in to help, to lend a hand, to support in some way.  It's because they want to show love to others by their actions.  I could go on but I think you get the point.

For me, I am a full time teacher, full time Mom, full time wife, full time leader in Children's Ministry.  I am always ON.  There isn't a moment that someone or something doesn't demand my attention.  Always ON.  My days don't belong to me, they belong to those that are placed in my care, who I've been blessed with.  But those blessings, can become draining sometimes, and sometimes those leaders, those servants, just need to be served, with no ulterior motives, no mention of a donation or payment, for nothing in return.  So, today I cried over that hot dog as I took my youngest beauty to an egg hunt that another church was having.  I was being served just because someone wanted to show love to others and asked nothing in return.  I cried because of their generosity, because of the time and effort, and yes finances that they used to serve others.  And because I was on the receiving end of that.  It's a rare event for me to be on that served side of the table and not on the servant side.  I'm not complaining by any means, but WOW, how many leaders need to just be served from time to time too?  For me, my love language is through Acts of Service.  I know this about myself, so when someone serves me without being asked or without asking for something in return, WOW!  I'm blown away.  That's what that hot dog was to me today, so I cried.  You can laugh at me if you want, I know it's a lot silly to cry over a hot dog, but maybe we should stop and think about our leaders.  I would venture to say that the majority of them are loved through Acts of Service, because that's why they are leaders, they serve others.  But how nice would it be to serve them?

This semester has been a hard one for me.  Many challenges, not even worth dwelling on, but for those challenges, I say this: I wouldn't be attacked it God didn't have something great in store or if He wasn't already using me to His Glory.  I truly believe that teaching is my calling in life.  That I've been placed there to make a difference in my student's lives and to reassure my families who are worried about their child's academics and entering middle school.  But golly gee, if it isn't also the hardest thing in life too.  As a teacher, or parent, or really anyone in a leadership position, you have to absorb so much negativity from others with a smile on your face and reassuring and calming words from your lips, while some ugly thoughts run through your brain.  So, how can you serve a leader today?  How can you lighten their load?  How can you reassure your leaders that God has placed in your life?  For some, just a kind word will go a long way.  For others, solving your own problems is a blessing.  (At least to me with my teen daughters.)  And yet for others, acts of service may be just what they need.  Picking up trash, doing their dishes, collecting supplies after an event, etc.

So, as a leader myself, I am challenged by that hot dog to serve my leaders too and not only those left in my care.  I hope you have a blessed day!

Can Quiet and Fun Co-Exist?

I've noticed something about myself here lately over this fall semester.  The loud noises really get to me.  Since I've been married, my husband has told me that I'm an old lady when it comes to sounds.  I don't like the radio very loud, don't enjoy noisy restaurants, jump at sudden sounds, etc.

At our school December staff meeting, we played this fun game of pictionary where teams had to draw to help others guess the name of the Christmas carol.  Very fun, but competitive, and when another staff member walked up behind me and shouted, "Go team!", I about came out of my skin and moved away.

Another example of this was made clear to me when my Mom visited for Christmas and was telling me about an extended family member who has PTSD.  And knowing that this family member was only 12 years old, I asked my Mom how this was possible, since it's usually associated with military members.  She explained that the Mom of this child is half deaf and deals in shouting only.  This child has learned to cope with this by ignoring the Mom until it's full blown shouting and anger for him not listening, which then makes him jumpy and he acts out.

I have some family members myself who are just naturally loud, as am I from time to time.  In fact before the break, I had to apologize to a student because they thought I was picking on them.  And we discovered it's just because I'm loud.  Mind you, to me, it's my normal speaking voice, but to this child, it was loud enough to stress them out and scare them.  So all this got me thinking, are there other students we interact with who have noise issues too, maybe not as severe or noticeable, but could we speak softly and still get our point across?  Volume does not equal compliance.  In some cases, ok, many, volume equals stress, anxiety, discouragement, anger, chaos, etc, even if the message is a positive one.

Now, I can hear the thoughts now, but quiet places are boring places.  But do they have to be?  Is it possible to have a quiet (not silent), fun, engaging classroom for all our student's to thrive in?  I say yes!  Now, I can't answer that how for anyone, only myself.  It's all about finding what works and running with that.  So, just some things I've noticed lately that I know will carry into this new semester with me as we run the race of teaching.