A Tough Day

Today was a hard day. Really hard. Trauma-mama hard. I'm not going to share the details of this day, but I will tell you about some hard trauma-mama days I've had in the past with some of my foster and/or adopted children. Again, please do not attribute these details to the children currently in my home, even though I am writing each story as if it is current. I'm changing some identifying information, but know that these stories are real. Childhood trauma is real, and it affects every single thing a child does.

For example, there is a child who will not sleep with a door open. I cannot enter his room at night because it triggers memories of an abuser that crept into his darkened room. Once, I urgently needed an item that was in that bedroom, and I didn't wake the child up. He awoke in terror and lived in terror for several days.

There is the one who explodes in anger continually. The physical abuse from him is extremely difficult to take. We've tried medications, hospitalizations, and therapies. Nothing seems to work. Surviving is about as good as it gets with this child. I can't figure out and avoid his triggers. I don't know how to reach him to let him know he's safe and loved. I am physically and emotionally drained in his presence. I am in fear for myself and the other children in my home and neighborhood and school. I am helpless and hopeless more than I'd like to admit.

Then there are the days when we have multiple potty accidents with a child that is too old to be facing accidents. Accidents happen for days after every single encounter with her father. Sometimes we go months without seeing this child's father, and she is dry and clean for months. Then we run into her biological father, and there are days of anxious accidents. More laundry than you can imagine. 

And there is a child who struggles years into placement with our family. Struggles to accept imperfections from herself. Struggles to learn anything new because that would mean admitting she doesn't already know everything. Struggles to the point of spending hours defending an innocent mistake, denying that she didn't know how to accomplish some task correctly. Fights and argues to maintain her image of perfection because to admit imperfection means she is worthless. This attitude was ingrained before we met her, and she pays the price for it every day.

Then there is the meltdown king. At an age when he should be able to use words to express feelings, this child goes into classic "flight or fight" during any confrontation. Something as simple as, "Please put away your toys" throws him into a full-on panic, complete with screaming and kicking. "It's time to go home from the park," triggers running away and hiding.

It's exhausting. It's incessant and intense. After a day filled with trauma-triggers and trauma-related-responses, I am ready for bed at suppertime. I struggle to maintain my peaceful responses. I desperately need miracles of hope.

And they come. Rescripted self-talk comes in the midst of mistakes. A small child crawls into my lap and apologizes for pushing me in the hallway. Words come haltingly to describe the situation instead of screams. Anger is managed with breathing exercises instead of hitting. A clean and dry day happens. I get a hug. An offer of help. A prayer for a sibling having a hard day. These small victories are blessings. Some trauma-mamas don't get them. There have been years when I didn't get them; I was hopeless. I desperately needed help and didn't get any.

That isn't true in my life now. There is much hope and much progress. There is much joy and much celebration. I just don't want to leave out those trauma-mamas whose only hope is in a residential placement of their son or daughter. Whose child came from such difficult and damaging trauma that "success" is defined by the child growing up without going to jail. To those mamas, I say that I am praying for you. I am here to listen without judgment. I deeply and truly understand what you're going through.

For me, today was just a tough day. Not an impossible day. Not a day that ended with a psychiatric placement or juvenile detention. And I know the blessing in that. I thank God for that blessing!

Losing Baby Jesus

I literally lost Baby Jesus a couple of days ago, early on Christmas Day. Life was a bit chaotic with our three children, some guests, an adult child home for the holidays, etc., and I woke up at 4:50 AM panicking because I hadn't filled the stockings! We don't "do Santa" here because Christmas is about Jesus, but we always have Christmas stockings on Christmas morning. If a child says something about Santa filling the stockings, we just smile and nod.

But I forgot to fill the stockings on Christmas Eve before I went to bed! So at 4:50 AM, my husband and I sneaked down the stairs and filled the stockings with candy and small toys. We breathed a sigh of relief as we slumped back into bed around 5:00 AM, glad we had beaten the kids in awakening.

My husband was soon breathing quietly, but my mind was racing ahead into the Christmas morning chaos of opening gifts and playing with new toys. Then, I remembered: I hadn't placed Baby Jesus in our manger!! Good grief! Here we were, trying to place emphasis on Jesus at Christmas, and I forgot to put Baby Jesus into our Giving Manger (for details, see my blog post here). I crept down the steps again, wincing at every squeak and creak. I went to my "office," really just a small nook in the kitchen, and looked where I thought I had put The Giving Manger box containing Baby Jesus.

Nope. Not there.

I looked on the windowsill, the collection place of all household detritus. Not there, either.

I opened my office closet and got a flashlight. Searching high and low, I did not find Baby Jesus. I did find one more gift for our grown daughter's stocking, but no Giving Manger box.

I quietly crept into the spare bedroom, where our daughter lay sleeping. I looked on the bookshelves, using my flashlight carefully.

Not. There.

I sat down on a chair in the kitchen, bemoaning the loss of Baby Jesus. I decided to look one more time amidst the clutter in the closet. I got a chair so I could look more carefully. And there he was! Baby Jesus!

Smiling, I lay Baby Jesus among the straw pieces the children had earned by doing service for others. Whew! Now we could talk to the kids about how their preparation for Jesus by doing service created a place for him in the hay. How Jesus Himself came to be a servant, and how we should follow in His example.

It also struck me that we often "lose Jesus" in the chaos of Christmas, and how we should refocus our families (and ourselves) on Him. He came and lived in a human body, completely and utterly human... and completely and utterly God. An incomprehensible dichotomy that is somehow True. I pray that God will continue to work in me so that I constantly seek Him. So that I never lose Jesus again!

Teaching the Meaning of Christmas to My Kids

The three kids living in our home at this time, like almost everyone, prefer to think about what they're going to receive at Christmas than anything else. As Christian parents, we've tried for years to change the focus to giving and to serving, as opposed to "gimme...gimme." It's hard.

As I considered what to do for advent for the children this year, I immediately discarded the idea of the traditional advent calendar where a child gets a small toy or candy each day. My husband and I talked about what advent really means: Waiting for the Christ Child. A couple of years ago, we had tried giving chocolate eyeball candy each day and talking about waiting for Jesus. It didn't go over very well, and I don't think it taught our daughter anything about Jesus.

So this year, I was really looking for something focused on giving and serving. In serving others, we serve Jesus (Mark 9:35), and that's what I wanted the children to think about this advent season.

I saw an ad for "The Giving Manger," and I took a look at the product. It seemed a little pricey, so I declined. But I kept being drawn back to the concept: A story about serving others, filling a manger with straw in preparation for Jesus' birth. It seemed spot-on with what we wanted, and I finally ordered the set, hoping I wasn't wasting our money.

I read the book to the kids several times between Thanksgiving and December 1st. They liked the book, from the 3 year old to the 11 year old. On December 2nd (I was a day late....), I got out the manger and straw. I told the children that serving others was going to be our way of anticipating the birth of Jesus, the greatest servant of all. I gave them some ideas of what their service could be (helping someone with their chore, cleaning up toys without being told, folding laundry, etc.), and left the manger somewhere they could reach it.

I started the service by doing everyone's chore for two days in a row. The 11-year-old noticed first, with the 5-year-old right behind. They also noticed the straw in the manger bed. I reminded them all that each piece of straw stood for one act of service. Right away, I started noticing little jobs being done without any prompting. The two oldest children got very active about service, trying to outdo each other in helping. The straw loaded up in the manger.

Then I got this note:

My heart melted, of course. What parent's heart wouldn't? But more than that, I saw that the children were developing an understanding of service, of gratitude, of giving. Advent, in the sense of noticing what needs to be done, appreciating who does it, and pitching in willingly, with love and grace.

I have never before written a blog post advocating the purchase of a product, but The Giving Manger is worth every penny! The children have been so active serving each other, our family, and our community that we are running out of straw!

We're getting ready for Jesus' birth!

Sign

This morning, on my walk, I saw deer sign on our driveway. You know, deer tracks and deer scat... Unmistakable signs that deer were in our driveway last night! This isn't a common experience, although deer and elk are occasionally in town. I didn't get a photo, but I'm sure you can imagine the scene.

I told my kids about the deer signs. They were excited to imagine deer in our driveway! They were interested in how I knew the tracks and scat were from a mule deer. We talked about what animals were native to the area and about how unlikely it would be for a whitetail deer to be here. We discussed my experience with scat across hiking trails and woods.


They weren't convinced. So I showed them this picture. I asked them who was in the picture. Of course, they knew, having modeled for the photo just a day ago. In our discussion of how they knew who was who in the photo, they picked up on what I meant by "signs." Their size, their posture, the way they stand, sit, or kneel... all of these tell those who know them who they are. Just like I knew the signs in our driveway were from mule deer. Eventually, they accepted that I knew what I was talking about.

I was thinking about this experience later in the day, and I realized that Christians should leave signs. There should be clear and convincing evidence of who we are in Jesus Christ. Everywhere we go. In everything we do. Every single day we should be saying and doing things which mark us as Christ's followers.

What marks us as Christians?

Love. Our supporting love of those around us, including those who are different from us, names us as Jesus' followers (John 13:34). Do we welcome others to our holiday table? Do we provide food for strangers? Do we support our missionaries with prayer? Do we support a child in poverty through Compassion International (or some similar ministry)? Do we work at the local food bank? There are a thousand ways to love one another, and it should show!

Service. Jesus says we are to serve others (Galatians 5:13). Do we? Do we volunteer to finish the sweeping, put away the tables, or take out the trash? Do we, without grumbling, pick up the last couple of dishes and put them away? Do we fetch something for our beloved, without grouching about how many times they've left something behind? (I'm not suggesting that we should enable those around us to be lazy! Just asking if we are serving others, as Jesus did.) Do we, as the church, provide rides, meals, and material goods to those in need? Service doesn't have to be huge. Serving those near us in Jesus' name is the goal.

Kindness. One of the fruits of the spirit is kindness. Kindness seems rare these days, especially when we're talking about any kind of politics or political leanings. On both sides of the spectrum, I see vitriolic comments and name-calling. This meanness is not a sign of Christianity, as I know it. The Bible says that we are to be known by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, the Holy Spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God (2 Corinthians 6). So, in everything we do, we should be kind. We can speak the truth in kindness. We can reproach a loved one about a recurring sin in kindness.

I know there are other signs that mark us as Christians. Let's think about them. Let's actively pursue them! Let's make our mark on the world.

A Sneak Peek

Today was a day.
A busy day.
 A crazy day.
A terrific day.
A trying day.
A beautiful day.
A fun day.
A heartbreaking day.

A totally, absolutely, completely normal day.

Those were my thoughts this evening as I cleaned up the second "poop incident" of the day. We hadn't had any such incidents for about two weeks...till today. It was very likely stress-related, which makes it more understandable, but not really more pleasant. Alongside this issue, there have been many, many, many temper tantrums and melt-downs. I've been cultivating a patient and supportive attitude, trying to help stressed wee ones learn to communicate their feelings through words instead of actions. I'm sure you can imagine how exhausting that is.

Today started a little later than my usual day because I was up through the thirteenth inning of the Wild Card game, so I skipped my daily walk. I showered quickly about 7 AM, then went downstairs to get started with breakfast for the kids. After eating, the kids and I cleaned the laundry room. They are learning housekeeping skills as well as contributing to the family. I ended up having to scrub and clean the laundry room again later in the day after our outdoor painting party... but it's good to get a room clean each morning.

Our homeschooling routine is different this year with three children of such varied ages. Our 11 year old begins her morning with piano practice, typing practice, and her spelling assignment. She can accomplish all of these on her own, so I work with the boys on letters, sounds, words, and other skills while she works. When she is done with her first assignments, she has a reading class with me while the boys practice skills on the iPads. Then it's break time. I fix a snack for the kids and take care of things like calling the dentist to make an appointment, answering emails, and doing laundry.

Today, in addition to this normal routine, we had another homeschooled child in our home because his family needed someone to watch him. He did his schoolwork while I worked with our children. During our break, I texted a friend and asked if she wanted to bring her kids over to splatter paint outside a little later.

When the kids went back to work, three of them were working on math, and the youngest was busy playing. I helped with math as I got things ready for painting. While I was working on this, two people stopped by the house to drop something off for the church and to ask a question. I got the four kids in my house dressed in paint clothes and we went outside just in time for our buddies to show up. God has soooo blessed us here in Dulce with good friends!

While the kids were just getting started with their paintings (on pizza cardboards mostly!), an intoxicated man we know wandered into the yard. I excused myself from my friend's company and went to talk to him. I ended up making him a lunch, which he ate while watching the children paint. A few minutes later, another friend (not intoxicated!) drove up and got out to chat with us all for 20 minutes or so. He left as yet another friend (intoxicated??) walked into the yard to talk with Pastor Brad.

By this time, the children were busily painting themselves and each other! It was hilarious! I'm so thankful that God has brought other families into our lives who treasure children getting messy and having fun. We allowed the kids to play in paint until the paint was gone! I took over 500 photos, most of which I cannot share because my friend and I each have foster children in our care.

About the time my friend was leaving with her three youngest kids (leaving her two oldest to play with our children), a woman drove up and asked for help with homeschooling in New Mexico. I spent the next hour or so walking her through the process of legally homeschooling your child and effectively teaching your child. She ended up coming back toward the end of the day to order curriculum with me. I didn't know this woman before today, but I'm sure that we'll end up doing things together as she begins to homeschool her daughter.

Whew! I'm exhausted just rereading this peek into our daily world. But this day was nowhere near done at this time. Soon after the woman left, I had to take one of our boys to an IEP recheck at the elementary school. I dropped off my friend's two children on the way, met with the new speech and language teacher, who confirmed my thoughts that our boy no longer needs her services. (Yay!) Then we stopped by to say hi to this child's former special ed team to share the joy that he no longer needs any special services at all. It was a joy to share him with them!

Then it was time to fix supper for my family (and the bonus child staying the day with us), clean up from supper, clean up the first (and then the second) "poop incident," which entailed giving early baths, and trying to edit the photographs taken during the painting party.

And now, with all the children in bed, I am sharing our day with you. Why? Because not many of you have ever been missionaries, lived on a reservation, fostered or adopted children, or homeschooled. This is the life God has given me, and it is a very good life. I want to share the joy, and sometimes the pain, of this crazy, beautiful life He has given me.

I Call Praying!

For the past year, we have been fostering two young boys. They are now three and five years old, and they and our eleven-year-old have brought us much joy this year. Watching our daughter become a big sister has been amazing! She went through a few weeks of wishing she could go back to being an only child, but found grace for the changes in her life and embraced being a big sister. She's phenomenal!!!

For a year, at bedtime each night and at every meal, the children have heard and said prayers with and for each other. For a year, we've heard all three earnest voices praying for their parents, siblings, our Compassion International sponsored child, and each other. This is a sweet, sweet thing, and we treasure it.

The other day at the dinner table, we had a completely new twist on prayer: One of our three yelled (on the way to the table), "I call praying!!!!" After the laughter died down, this child was allowed to pray for our meal. We encouraged the children to consider how often they've prayed recently and which of their siblings might want to pray, too.

But...

But...

I LOVE this. So many times, adults are reluctant to pray, especially aloud. We should all be racing ahead, yelling, "I call praying!" Prayer is a chance to talk to God, after all! It's a conversation that should be never-ceasing, and we should be delighted to share it with others.

So, CALL PRAYING! Jump out there and volunteer to talk to the Almighty for a group! Get excited about talking to God!

Amen!

Beauty From Ashes

A decade ago, my husband and I were still newlyweds, empty nesters, and both working full-time. We anticipated no changes in this (well, except that we wouldn't always be newlyweds) as time went on. Brad was in seminary, but we figured that wherever he got a church call, I would be teaching.

A decade ago, in another state, our granddaughter was in the care of her mother, her grandparents, and a child welfare worker. Her mom was very young, and my son wasn't helping parent the baby. We didn't know that the state had gotten involved and taken custody of our 1 year old granddaughter. It was a difficult time for her immediate family, and especially for her mom, who loved her daughter very much, but was struggling to provide everything a toddler requires.

Our granddaughter's need for stability became God's call on our lives. We gave up our empty nest and dual-income lifestyle and began parenting a 27-month-old girl. We eventually adopted her, as the court removed parental rights from our son, and her mom chose to voluntarily relinquished her rights in order for us to adopt. We agreed that our daughter would stay in contact with her original family as much as possible. This is akin to inheriting your spouse's family as your own. They aren't always people that would naturally become your buddies, but you spend time with them anyway. It wasn't always easy, but it was always good, especially for our daughter. We have seen her birth family at least twice a year (and often more frequently) for the past 10 years.

Fast-forward to last week. Our daughter is now 11, and she wanted her mom to come to see us. We, her mom, and her mom's parents all worked to get transportation arranged for our daughter's mom. She brought her one-year-old daughter with her.

And we were so blessed.

There are no words to express the joy of watching my daughter and her mom together. The joy of big sister and little sister getting to really know each other. We shared all of our normal everyday activities with them. Our daughter's mom got to sit in on a choir practice, piano lesson, and home school lessons. She got to meet her daughter's good friends, go to breakfast at a family friend's house, and play in our favorite "hot pot" river holes.

Sometimes, adopted children (or those around them) talk about their "real" parents. Our lucky girl has two REAL moms and two REAL dads. And she knows them all. She loves them all. They all love her. THIS is open adoption at its best.

In calling us to parent this sweet girl, God opened our hearts to her entire family. It hasn't always been easy for any of us, but it has been good for all of us. And this daughter of ours is worth it...to ALL of us.

Take My Breath Away

For Brad's birthday, our family went for a hike. We frequently hike in the San Juan Mountains, a southern part of the Rocky Mountains that is near us. It is a beautiful place.

It's easy to feel God's presence in the face of so much beauty. The Bible says that the heavens declare the glory of the Lord (Psalm 19:1).

His glory takes my breath away! 



Having  your breath taken away by beauty is a glorious thing. I'm glad God gives us beauty so deep that it takes our breath away.

This week, it has been pain that has taken my breath away. A dear, dear friend with whom I used to teach has been diagnosed with an inoperable malignant tumor. It's also resistant to chemotherapy, and it's quite advanced. My friend has opted to return home under hospice care for the remainder of her days. These days are likely to be so few that I will not get to see her on our travels to the Midwest in October.

And, oh! It takes my breath away to know that the world is losing her! She is a caring, supportive, and effective teacher. Her three children are young adults now, but my older daughter was good friends with their middle son. My friend and her husband were life-savers during the darkest days of my divorce. They are precious to me.

Also in this week, the community received the news that a tribal baby who lives in a nearby town with her mom, her siblings, and her mom's boyfriend is in critical condition. Her mom's boyfriend allegedly beat her badly in front of her five siblings, after smoking meth with the mother. The boyfriend and the mom are in jail, pending charges. The baby is in the NICU in Albuquerque. The siblings are in a children's shelter. And our community is reeling. The brutality and horror of the situation took our breath away!

It's more difficult to feel God's presence in the face of so much pain. But again, the Bible speaks to this. Psalm 38 is full of pain. The author groans "because of the tumult of [his] heart." His strength "fails [him]." Even in the midst of this pain, though, the Psalmist (verse 15) says, "But for you, O Lord, do I wait; it is you, O Lord my God, who will answer." 

Even in distress and pain, we turn toward God, and He answers. In 2 Corinthians 1:3-4, the Bible says, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God."

We can depend on His comfort. And we, in turn, can share His comfort with others. I hold this closely as I think about my friend and her husband 1200 miles away. What can I do that would show them the love of God in this terrible situation?? And I ponder how our family can be the hands and feet of Jesus to the family torn apart by addiction and violence.  I don't know the answer, but I do know how to mail an encouraging card. I do know how to offer school supplies to the children who start school next week. I can reach out and let everyone involved in each situation know that we are praying for them. And I do know how to pray faithfully. I know that my prayers are meaningful and will be answered. That doesn't mean I think that everything I want will somehow come true. But I do trust that our powerful and merciful God will be present to those clinging to him through the pain. He will strengthen and encourage them. He will show them beauty that takes their breath away.

True Security

I've recently discovered Kombucha, a fermented tea. It has few carbohydrates in it, and that fits my current eating habits... AND it tastes different than water or iced tea! After almost two years of drinking only water, iced tea, and milk, it's lovely to have a different taste! Anyway, this morning I was taking a sip from my kombucha drink in the fridge, and I started reading the label. Not the nutrition facts (which I read a while back), but all the words, and there were a lot of them.

The words that most stuck in my mind were the Words of Enlightenment. I didn't expect to agree with them, as "enlightenment" strikes me as rather "new age," which is definitely not my belief-system. But the Words of Enlightenment were "True Security is Peace." As I mulled these words over in my head, I realized that there were two ways to think about the statement: 1) True security causes peace; and 2) Peace causes true security. Hmmm.....

I am almost 100% sure that the writer of these words didn't have Jesus in mind at all when s/he wrote them, but I did. I experience the peace that surpasses understanding each and every day. The anxiety I regularly felt before returning to Christianity was sometimes overwhelming. There is none of that in my life anymore. Not that I'm never anxious about anything! But the prevailing waves of anxiety that I lived with are completely gone.

And security? True security? Psalm 46:1 is only one of numerous places in the Bible where we are reassured that "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble."  I cling to these truths, and I have experienced them personally and powerfully. My Lord and Savior are with me at all times, and I have a sure and certain place as a Child of God.

So, from a Christian point of view, security in the Lord creates a peace beyond all understanding. I am forever thankful for that security and that peace, both coming entirely and fully from God Almighty.

Next time you find Words of Enlightenment or a fortune cookie, take those words and look at them through the lens of the Bible. You may find the words are nonsense, but you may find a hidden jewel of Biblical wisdom to ponder.

Stranger in a Strange Land

This photo might suggest that I am "stranger" than many people... and that very well might be true! But I've been a "stranger" many times in my life, in a different sense.

I began my life with a perpetually unhappy father. Because of this, I went to 17 schools. Yes, really. I was always the "new kid." I was the one who didn't know you absolutely did not undress for PE  in my seventh grade school, AND did not know you absolutely did undress for PE in my eighth grade school. I did it wrong both places, much to my chagrin. I am the one who has no answer for "Who was your first grade teacher?" because I had three of them in three different schools. How was I supposed to remember any of them?! I was a stranger over and over.

As a very young adult, I chose to be a stranger again: I joined the Peace Corps. I was sent to Jamaica, a country that seems very similar to the United States, from the outside. From the non-tourist places that I lived, it was most assuredly a foreign land. I was on the outside in so many ways! I couldn't go shopping by myself because I was White and female. When I did go shopping with my Jamaican housemates, they got tomatoes (or whatever) at one price, and I got them at a much higher price. And what we ate?! That was strange, too. I ate goat head soup, chicken foot soup, and much more. My very limited experience in foods was expanded far beyond my comfort zone!

When I returned to the States with my husband, we found we couldn't have biological children and decided to adopt. We were open to any race, and were placed with two African-American/White biracial children. And again I became a stranger: I was a White woman with Black kids. That meant stares and comments from every side, most of them unkind. After an ugly divorce, I finished raising my Black kids in the small town in Iowa where I taught... and where my kids were two of the four Black kids in the town. Strangers, we were, no doubt.

Much later, after remarrying and adopting my granddaughter, my family moved to a Native American reservation in New Mexico. I'd always been a Midwesterner, the Southwest culture was different enough to make me a stranger again, not to mention living in a small town where we were among the very few White people. Double-stranger. And then we took in two Native American foster sons: Triple-Stranger!!

Being a stranger is fairly familiar to me, obviously. Even at 57, I'm not sure I actually belong any specific place. However, I do know that nowhere on this earth is my home. My home is in heaven with Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. There I will finally belong.

Here on earth, though, I've been doing a lot of thinking about being a stranger and how the Bible says we should treat strangers. Abraham was a stranger in a strange land. So was Sarah. And Lot. And the entire Israelite Nation in Egypt. Lots of strangers in foreign lands in the Bible. Even Jesus lived in Egypt as a young boy while Herod was hunting for him to kill him.

The Bible has a lot to say about strangers, foreigners, sojourners, aliens, and neighbors. Almost every word of it is requiring that we, God's people, take care of these strangers (Leviticus 19:33-34, Exodus 22:21, Matthew 25:35, Matthew 25:31-46, Galatians 5:14). In a few cases, the Bible is saying that these strangers are held to the same laws as God's people (Leviticus 22:10, Leviticus 17:8-9).

Lest someone accuse me of ignoring selected parts of God's Word, there are also portions of the Bible that clearly admonish us to obey the civil leaders of our world (Romans 13:1-7, 1 Peter 2:13). And yet, the Hebrew women just as clearly disobeyed the civil leaders when they hid their baby boys. And the disciples disobeyed civil and religious leaders when they continued to preach the gospel following Jesus' death and resurrection. Acts 5:29 says, "But Peter and the apostles answered, 'We must obey God rather than men.'"

Obey God. That is our duty as Christians. That is our joy as Christians. I have sought God's leadership on the issue of the treatment of immigrants. I have read news, opinions, and information on as many sides of this issue as I can find. And finally, I feel strongly that I cannot stand on the sidelines anymore.

We Christians of good conscience cannot allow the climate of our nation to continue to decline into "us vs. them" thinking. Luke 10 (The Good Samaritan) tells us that our neighbor can be "one of them." And in many places, the Bible tells us (Mark 12:31) to love our neighbor as ourselves.

I am not arguing that the United States should practice an entirely open border policy. Nor am I condemning particular lawmakers or any law enforcers. I am not saying that Homeland Security or ICE should ignore legitimate threats, no matter their source. I am saying that I believe Christians should be standing with the oppressed, the stranger, the poor, the orphan and the widow.

Let me say that again: I believe that Christians should be standing with the oppressed, the stranger, the poor, the orphan and the widow. In other words, we should be standing with our neighbors, loving them as ourselves.

How can we love our neighbors right now?

By standing up for those being persecuted. When you see an injustice, stand up for that person. If someone is being beaten, call the police. If the person ahead of you in the checkout line is being grilled about their method of payment, step in and say something. Tell the clerk she's wrong for berating the WIC or food support benefits user. If an Hispanic man is being forced to produce ID that you didn't have to produce for the same purpose, ask the official why. If a policy offends you, speak up. If an official shows hatred to a group of people, refuse to vote for him/her. If you didn't vote in the last election, register to vote today. Wherever people are marginalized, stand with them.

I find it hard to believe that any Christian would defend Hitler's demonization of the Jews in the 1930's and 1940's. We look back at resisters like Corrie ten Boom as heroes of the faith. As Christians, there are times we must resist. And I believe that time is now. We must resist the tendency in our society to demonize Muslims, Immigrants, and persons of color. We must stand with them as our neighbors. Loving our neighbors as ourselves.

They will know we are Christians by our love, by our love.

Wildfires

 We are physically surrounded by fires right now. Not close enough to be in danger, but close enough to bring smoke frequently. Close enough to close our favorite hiking trails and camping spots for a while. Close enough for me to be thinking about what I would take with us if we had to evacuate. Close enough that some of our normal travels for appointments are affected.

I grew up and lived in the Midwest most of my life. I remember standing in the driveway watching a tornado in the distance. I remember floods destroying my toys. I remember fighting floods in my basement as an adult. I remember "duck-and-tuck" in the boys' bathroom for hours with students of mine while tornadoes obliterated nine of the students' houses.

But fire. Oh, fire. It scares me. It's unfamiliar. It's so destructive. It lasts so long!

Yesterday, as I was walking in the morning, wary because of the smoke in the air and my asthma, I heard Sanctus Real's "On Fire."

The irony of the situation struck me. I started thinking about fire. And God. And the Bible.

So many references to fire in the Bible are from the fires of Hell. That's not what the song was about, though. The song was about being on fire for Christ. Having passion and love for our Lord and Savior. Asking God for that fire again, so that we spread God's Word everywhere we go.

And I thought about the fires around us. The crazy-burning, out-of-control Spring Fire with 5% containment and 50,000+ acres burned in less than a week. I know people with that kind of fire in their souls for Jesus. I love them! They call me to account when I approach a boundary of Christian behavior or thinking. They shout Jesus' love from the rooftops! They visit prisoners. They have radical faith. I love that!

Then there's the Burro Fire, 95% contained after burning only a week or two. It's still on fire, smoldering and flaring up occasionally. There's not much to look at there, but the fire sure isn't dead! I know people like that, too. They are the steady, solid volunteers who do the dishes, put away the chairs, and never do anything flashy. These people serve with no fanfare. They are the backbone of many churches, and I love that!

And the 416 Fire! Whoa. That one has challenged so many firefighters! At one point, there were more than 1,000 on the ground, plus air support. The firefighters have it 37% contained in incredibly rough terrain. This fire hasn't devoured one structure! It's burning in the wilderness, in steep and dry lands that leave no room for retreat for firefighters. This fire is the missionary spirit. It has so many obstacles to overcome, and in the eyes of some onlookers, it doesn't accomplish much. These Christians keep on doing God's work, even when it seems pointless. Even when not one person gains faith in Jesus Christ. Even when there seems no future, these people follow God's Call into the wilderness. They are strong in the Lord!

Which kind of fire are you? Are you one of the unnamed fires that was put out in the first day or two? Are you burning strong and slow? Wild and fast? In the wilderness?

No matter what kind of fire you are as a Christian, your fire is from the Holy Spirit. The Breath of God fans the flames, so read your Bible and receive His Breath. Fuel your fire!

Don't envy another for the fire of their faith. Follow God's Call on your life, whether that is flashy and loud or behind the scenes or in the wilderness.

The Invisible Ones

We have done a lot of traveling of late, by car and by airplane. We've been to both coasts and several locations in-between. On one road trip, I was alone with the three children. A "low-tire" light came on in our new van. I was 30 miles from anywhere, so I said a quick prayer and drove to the gas station at the southern end of the reservation where we live.

I went into the gas station and asked if there was air available anywhere. I explained that I had a low tire and three kids with me. The Jicarilla man at the counter said he'd have someone meet me "over there" by the air. I wasn't sure where the air was, or why I needed someone to meet me, but I took the kids and headed in the direction of his head nod. I drove across the highway to a service lot area, then a young man rolled down his window and said, "You need air?" Relieved, I nodded. He waved me into an area where I saw a coiled up air hose.

Getting out of the van, I pulled out my tire gauge and walked to check the front tire. The young man was already checking the passenger front tire. After I checked the front driver's side tire, I went to the rear tires. I was checking the rear tire when the young man came around the back of the van. He looked surprised and said, "I was just going to check that one." I said, "Thank you! This is the low one." I walked toward the air hose and said, "Is it okay for me to fill it? Or are you supposed to?" He said, "I'll do it."

When he was done, I said thank you to him. He stopped and looked at me for a long moment. Then he said, "No one ever gets out of their car. I always just do it. Thank you for helping." I was stunned.

No one ever gets out of their car? To help fill up their own tires with air? They expect someone else just to do it for them?

To use a cliche: What would Jesus do? Would he be one of those many who expect others to serve him? Or would he be getting his hands dirty with the tire gunk while he checks the air pressure?

Would Jesus ignore the shuttle bus drivers, the bathroom custodians, the airport concessionaires? Would he just expect them to do their jobs and make his life more comfortable, more convenient?

I doubt it. Jesus was never afraid of service. He came not to be served but to serve (Matthew 20:28). No one was invisible to Jesus.

We humans, especially we Christians, need to see the "invisible ones." We cannot fail to acknowledge, to thank, to serve Jesus in our interactions with those whose role is service. If we assume a haughty demeanor, we are walking away from Jesus. Even in the Old Testament, we are admonished to be humble:  Before destruction the heart of man is haughty, But humility goes before honor. Proverbs 18:12.

In our hearts and minds, there should be no "invisible ones." To follow Jesus is to check our pride and to develop humility and a heart for service.

A Year Ago Today

A year ago today, I was with my stepdad, my daughter, and my husband on the hike of a lifetime. We were on the way to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, with two nights of reservations at Phantom Ranch. I was especially excited because this was the stepdad that introduced me to the Canyon when I was 14, that taught me to love the outdoors, and that began my lifelong love of geology.

A year ago today, I had a near-fatal asthma attack about 5 miles down the trail. My then-10-year-old was the only other of our hiking party that was with me. I must confess that my only real thoughts during the minute or two that I couldn't breathe (At. All.) were for my daughter. I didn't even pray for God to save my life. I didn't want my daughter to experience the trauma of losing her mom in front of her young eyes. I did everything I could to minimize her fear... and obviously, I survived.

This anniversary has made me reflect on the life God has so generously allowed me to live since that day. I've been able to enjoy our daughter's continued growth and development, both physically and spiritually. It's been a joy! She is a delightful young woman, firmly grounded in faith, and I enjoy her very much every day.

One of the ways in which she has grown is as a big sister. For eight months now, she has filled the role of in-house big sister to our two foster boys. She is a fabulous older sister! She cares for them, plays with them, guides them, and loves them. She has gotten less self-absorbed and more generous. They are a blessing to us all! A blessing I never would have known at all if I had died on the trail. I'm so glad that God had a plan for them to live with us for whatever length of time it turns out to be. They are funny, sweet, smart, and loving. They bring us joy every day.

In the past year, I have been able to visit all three of my parents twice. They are all growing older, and it is such a delight to spend time with them. Several of my friends have lost their parents recently, and I am graced with the presence of all of mine and my husband's. We try to spend time with them on the phone, via email, and in person as often as possible.

And, because God continued my life, I celebrated my tenth wedding anniversary with my beloved, Brad. Our marriage and family are precious, and I am grateful to be here to continue to love them.

But most important in this year, God has continued to shape me more and more in the image of Christ. I claim no part in this; it is solely God's work in me and through me. But I am excited to see the work He is doing in my heart, my mind, and my soul. I serve Him with joy and gratitude, and this is not of me; it is of Him. I pray that the Holy Spirit will continue to mold me and use me for His service. I am glad I am here to be Jesus' hands and feet in this place to which He has called us. I joyfully do the work to which we are called.

We never know when our earthly life will end. We can only choose how to spend the time we're given here. I will never regret choosing to spend my life in the service of God.

No Doubt!

I recently had a dear friend contact me and ask me to pray for her grandmother. Her grandmother had just entered hospice care, and my friend was already grieving. She said, "There has to be something beyond this life, right?" I answered, "No doubt!"

But doubt does haunt me. I was raised in the church and attended regularly with genuine faith until college. Then I took an Intro to Religion class and fell in love with an atheist. I started questioning everything.I stopped going to church regularly, then all together. I married an agnostic and we raised our children in a non-Christian home... until the children were 7 and 8. More than a decade of doubting...

Then I realized I wanted my children to have background in the Bible, even if I didn't believe it literally (at that point). So I took them to the church denomination of my childhood, and my daughter and I attended regularly.  After a year or so of singing, praying guardedly, and not taking communion, one Sunday I heard my God say to me, "Just take the bread and the cup." You see, God is faithful, even when we are not. So I did. And I experienced communion with God again.

That was the beginning of the best part of my life. Bad things happened, but God was at my side again. The crooked path to where I am now was difficult at times, but I knew I would make it through. I read my Bible again. I prayed. I truly became a part of my church. I divorced and remarried a man who was attending seminary. We accepted raising our granddaughter, moving to a reservation in New Mexico, and raising two foster sons. My faith is strong.

And I still fight against doubt. That rational part of my brain (Satan uses this, for sure) still whispers lies into my heart. Lies that were planted all those years ago in college, that stole me away from my faith for over a decade. That led me to a place of depression and despair.

The difference is that now I turn toward God, not away from Him. I turn to the Scriptures and find Truth. I remember those times when God's presence was so strong that there was no room for doubt:

     1) That experience at the communion table when God said, "Just take the bread and the cup."
     2) That moment when my first marriage was coming to an end (abuse was involved) and God said out loud to me: "Someday you will have a relationship so good that you won't even remember this one."  I had never before, and have never again, experienced such a clear, direct message from God. (And I do have a relationship that good now!)
     3) The weekend that I was praying about whether to follow God's will and parent our now-11-year-old daughter.
     4) The unfolding of Brad's being called to ministry here on the Jicarilla Apache Nation.
     5) The prayers and answers about whether to suddenly become foster parents.

There are other moments in my life when I have felt very close to God, and when I purposefully recall them, the doubts that have crept in are rushed out.

Another weapon in the battle against Satan's lies is Scripture. There are many encouraging verses in the Bible. Some of my favorites are:

Create in me a clean heart, oh God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Psalm 51:10

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.  Philippians 1:6

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:24

And for me, a third weapon against the whispers of doubt is Christian music. I am cautious about what I listen to because I want it to be Scripture-based, but good Christian music reinforces the Gospel message. One example is Bethel Music's No Longer Slaves. Listening to high quality, Scriptural, Christian music retunes my heart to God's Truth.

I am a child of God.

Christ's atonement makes me flawless in God's eyes. He will not see my doubts and failures. He will see in me Christ's righteousness.

Amazing Grace.

I will turn toward that amazing grace for the rest of my life, with God's help. No doubt.

What's Up?

Life.

It's what happens to you while you're planning your future. It's the accumulation of events that happen on the days that are so busy you forget to eat. Some days it feels like life is passing you by at light speed, and other days it feels like the last half hour took four days to happen.

Life is what's happening at our place, and it's left me with little to no time to blog. I am finishing up my teaching year next week. Our family has decided that I will only homeschool the kids in our home after next week. So for now, that means I'll be teaching our 11 year old daughter and our foster sons. It may stay that way for a while, or it may be that I'll be teaching only our 11 year old, depending on what the court's next decision is.

While we wait for that decision in June, we have been planning for and participating in our 31 year old daughter's wedding. It was less than a week ago, and it was a delight in every way! We love our new son-in-law, and our daughter and grandchildren are very happy. We traveled to California for the wedding, so we took a few days to relax on the beach and have fun at SeaWorld.

Watching the children play in the waves at the beach was pure joy. Showing them the tiny clams in the sand and the crabs and anemones in the tide pools was great fun for this ocean-loving teacher-mama. Our daughter discovered that she desperately wants to learn to surf. Just fun.

Not so fun was that our 1992 Dodge van died the week before our trip. And the 2005 Honda van we bought to replace it died the day after we bought it. Thankfully, the dealership has a 7-day money-back guarantee, of which we took advantage. And 36 hours before our departure, we were purchasing a 2015 Toyota van, which served us very well on our California
adventure.

Also not so fun, in the weeks surrounding our California trip, both Pastor Brad and I have had MRIs to determine the cause of significant pains. I must admit that I "borrow trouble," as my mother would say, when my husband has health issues. I pray for peace, but I often find myself worrying about "what might happen."

And there's a lot of "What might happen" lately. We don't know the future of our parenting with the boys. We don't know for sure that the financial gap in funding our ministry here in Dulce will be filled. We don't know how the health issues will ultimately go. We don't know if I'll be homeschooling one child next year, in which case I could go to work part time, or three, in which case I will not have time to work.

But while it might seem that "What's up?" is everything, that's not really how I see it or feel it. I am very deeply knowing that the answer to "What's up?" is: God. Each of these uncertainties is in His hands, and I know He works all these things for my good. My eternal good. What more security could I need?

It's often an uneasy thing to not know what's coming in our lives, but when we can rest in the knowledge that God is in charge and we can trust Him, we can wait with peace. I know that we will love the children in our home for the rest of our lives, whether they live in our home or not. I know that financial worries will not change the ministry of the Jicarilla Apache Reformed Church; we will continue to serve the community here. I know that eventually, health issues will end our lives. I'd rather it happened much later than now, but I imagine that will also be true when I'm 90! Whenever I am called home, I pray that I can go with trust and peace.

So, each day, as life comes (however it comes!), I pray for God's will to be done. I pray that I can deeply love these children... and still let them go with grace when it is time for them to go. I pray that the craziness of the days leaves me amused, not crazy myself! I pray that God will grant my husband and me many more years of wedded bliss, and that if He doesn't, He will guide my life in every way.

What's up next? A trip to NY to visit with some of the supporters for this mission. A summer filled with grandchildren and friends, paint, water, shaving cream, and more. VBS. Work groups. A summer children's theater production.

Life.

the deepest well

I must begin this post by acknowledging the source of the title. The Deepest Well is a book published in 2018. It was written by Nadine Burke Harris, MD, and it has changed my life. For me, usually things that "change my life" are faith-oriented. This is not. However, I can certainly see the medical and social-emotional information in this book being used in a faith-based manner.

I bought this book for personal reasons. Several of my children (currently in and out of my home) and many of my students over the years have had experiences with childhood adversity. Plus, my own childhood was full of adversity. I thought I might learn something that would help me parent better or live better.

What I got was much bigger than that. When I started reading, I realized that this woman has made remarkable connections, well-backed by science, among many of the concerns of my entire life. My 30+ years as a teacher. My 30+ years as a parent. An adoptive parent. A foster parent. A step-parent. My 40+ years as a caring person trying to understand poverty, discrimination, trauma, and recovery. My 8+ years of friendship with a woman who has made it her life's work to interrupt the cycle of dysfunction among African and African American youth.  My 4+ years as a resident in the community of the Jicarilla Apache Nation, where the endemic struggles of Native Americans are apparent.

There are so many situations, both personal and professional, where I have wondered how someone got into the situation they're in or why they continue to respond in ways that are self-destructive. I've read broadly, listened even more broadly, and pondered for many hours trying to figure out how to help someone, especially a child, who is deeply traumatized by events in their life.

This book opens a new way of thinking about intractable problems. It suggests dealing with an underlying difficulty instead of the symptoms of that difficulty. In constructivist terms, it's a shift in paradigm.

The new paradigm builds our understanding of biological stress responses and how they can get hyper-triggered to the point that the stress response is dysfunctional. That dysfunction leads to illness in addition to dysfunctional behavior. By addressing the biological dysfunction, many of the consequences can be improved, or even reversed.

I know that our only hope is in Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. He is the one who created human minds to inquire and search for ways to better our lives. I see in this book a way for Christians (and others) to to frame our understanding and to focus our desire to help our neighbors. I highly recommend that you read it.

YES, and

I have had the privilege of helping to raise nine children in my home. I have had the delight of teaching more than six hundred more! The story that follows is a truth taken from several experiences with several of those children. Please do not assign any part of this story to any particular child.

The silence was suspicious, as any parent would know. I found the toddler in the bathroom and asked, "Are you pooping your pants?" The "No!" came quickly, but the smell gave him away.

After I peeled his clothing off, he was standing there covered in poop. "Did you poop your pants?" I asked again, hoping to help him acknowledge the mistake so we could work on preventing it next time.

"No!" he wailed too loudly for the small space. It was a wail I had heard before... every time he did something wrong, actually.

click.

He was afraid. He was afraid that he wouldn't be loved anymore if he pooped his pants. He was afraid he wouldn't be safe anymore if he pooped his pants. His denial was self-preservation, in his mind.

So I said, "Yes, you pooped your pants...AND I love you!" I repeated this several times during the clean-up process. I even said it to his sister later that evening, "Yes, you skipped your chores...AND I love you!" I've said it to many children, many times, "Yes, you messed up... AND I love you!"

Can't you just imagine God looking at us lovingly while we are standing stark naked, covered in the poop of sin, denying that it's there? "Yes," He would say, "You are guilty of adultery...AND I love you!"  "Yes, you were selfish and unkind... AND I love you!" "Yes, you denied me... AND I love you!"

And we stand there, vulnerable and terrified, wailing, "NO! I didn't do it" when all God wants is to help us out of the mess we're in. We can't even SEE the sin, but God, seeing ALL of it, still says, "Yes, you sinned...AND I love you!"

God sent his Son, Jesus Christ, to wash away all that poop. We are washed cleaner than the toddler after his shower/bath. What joy! No more stinky and filthy sin. BECAUSE God loved us when we were filthy (Romans 5:8). We can say, "Yes, I sinned. Praise God for washing me whiter than snow (Psalm 51:7)!"

Amen!

Uncomfortable

Early this morning, I answered the doorbell. It was a man I recognized, but didn't know well. I know he drinks. A lot. He didn't seem intoxicated this morning, so I opened the door to him and asked him how I could help him. He inquired if "Pastor" was home. I answered that he was busy. The man asked if I could make a sandwich for him; he was hungry. We've fed him (and many others) before; this is part of the mission here.

So, I made him a couple of bagels and some fruit and drink. He took them, said thanks, and headed on his way. If I'm completely honest, I have to admit I was glad to see him go. It's uncomfortable to spend time with people so different from myself.

Uncomfortable. That actually describes a lot of the mission work here. (And probably elsewhere as well!) Not in our comfort zone. Out of our normal. There is nowhere in the Bible that it tells us that life with God will be comfortable and easy. And it's not.

We serve God when we pick up students from the Jicarilla Apache Student Residence and bring them to church, despite the noise and chaos in the pews. We serve God when we welcome the families of our foster and adopted children into our home and family, despite the different traditions and habits of those families. It's kind of like marriage, we add a whole new family with every new foster or adopted child.

We serve God when we answer the door at midnight and feed, clothe, or transport someone in need. My husband serves God when he preaches the Gospel in a funeral to a gathered group of people who would never otherwise enter a church.

God calls us to the uncomfortable and He makes it easy. Maybe not easy to actually do, but easy to enter into because He is beside us. He calls us to minister to our neighbors... even our drunk neighbors. He calls us to care for the widows and orphans, not just our own families. God calls us to do His work here on Earth and he equips us to do it.

We never have to handle it alone. He is beside us as we foster someone else's children while they deal with the difficulties of life. He holds us while we include those elders in our daily life who do not have family to include them. He never leaves our sides when we invite an unpleasant stranger to join us at the meal table.

We, Christians, are each charged with being Jesus' hands and feet here and now. What is your call? How has God prepared and equipped you for it? He will be with you the entire way, uncomfortable or not. Take the first step and begin the journey to the unknown... you will go marvelous places with spectacular people!!

Who's To Blame?

There has been a lot of grief about the latest school shooting in Parkland, Florida. Rightfully so. This is a horrific event that permanently changed everyone present and their families. Like Sandy Hook. Like Columbine. Like so many other places and times that it's almost commonplace.

I'm not writing this to rage about gun control. No matter which side of that argument you're on; I'm writing to you. I'm not writing this to say that a single person or multiple people failed. I'm writing to each of you. There is an issue here that is underlying so much of the dysfunction of our society, but we aren't addressing it anywhere I look.


As always, there is a lot of finger-pointing going on. Why didn't his parents get him help? Why didn't the school officials notice something wrong? Why do we have guns like these on our streets? Why didn't his friends (classmates/co-workers/etc) notice something off? All of these are responses to our overriding question in events like this: Who's to blame? Whose fault is it? Who can we put this on? 

Our society is to blame for our repeated tragedies of violence, for our increasing domestic violence incidents, for the increasing dysfunction of our families. We have systematically dismantled the mental health system in our nation, pushing the mentally ill into nursing homes, prisons, and onto their families.

I speak of this with personal experience and with knowledge that comes from many foster families and birth families that I know. Please do not apply any of these words to our current foster or adopted children; my examples are from real families, but not necessarily my family, and certainly not of our current foster children.

A woman posted this today in a foster care forum, "Can we talk about the shooting yesterday? Because I need to and I don't feel like I can say these things to people close to me who would persuade me to make different decisions based on my fears.

That young man reminds me a lot of my foster son (7 years old) I hope to adopt after TPR (termination of parental rights) is finalized. His eyes. His anger. His intense loss.  My heart is broken in a trillion pieces for that young man who killed so many yesterday. Why? Because I worry about the same thing for my son. I worry about another loss. I worry about the pain he holds inside. I worry about how much he hurts. I worry about dying. What if I died? What would happen to him? Would anyone love him like I love him? Would someone stand up to help him process his deep grief? Would someone fight tooth and nail like I have? And even more, is my passion for him and love enough to heal him? How can I give him enough?

That young man, he's our kids. Lost. Lonely. Hurting. Rejected. Angry. He's our babies. Keep fighting, mamas and daddies. They need us."

This hit home for many of the foster and adoptive parents I know. Even some birth families see themselves in this. I know families that have waited in the ER for weeks (yes, weeks!) to locate a bed in a psychiatric facility appropriate for their child. I know families that have traveled for hundreds of miles to transport their mentally ill child to the only open psychiatric bed in their entire state. In 1955, there were 339 psychiatric beds for every 100,000 people in the USA. In 2000, there were just 22. (Source: PBS Online’s “Timeline: Treatments for Mental Illness”.)

I am certainly an advocate for the "least restrictive environment" for the treatment of our special needs population. I would never advocate for limiting a mentally ill person's rights or freedom more than necessary for the treatment of their disease. However, when a teenager has to wait for months in a temporary mental health (?) facility (an ER, a hospital, a children's ward, etc) to finally receive the help he needs (IF it's received even then), there is something deeply wrong with our mental health services delivery. When the county or state social services refuse to locate appropriate services because of cost, there is a deep dysfunction affecting our families and our communities.

I know several families who are caring/have cared for their mentally ill children/teens... through death threats to the family... through suicide attempts... through attempted murder on their other children... while begging for help from every source. They are told things like, "There are no facilities that treat youth with such violent tendencies," (Hello?! You want my FAMILY to do that, then?) and "He doesn't fit the criteria for any of the available treatment programs" (So MAKE a program that can treat him!) or "There isn't funding for that intensive a program... If you can fund the treatment, he can go." (Seriously?! $12,000+ a month?!!)

These families love their troubled child. They advocate for her. They beg for help. They contact every social services organization, every possible doctor or therapist. They try every medication available. They accept intense physical abuse from their child. They receive condemnation from their neighbors, their extended families, their fellow churchgoers. "If only you would..." begins to trigger an internal scream that fills their heads.

These families often fear for their lives. They watch tragedies like the one in Florida and see their son's face on the killer. They don't dread the day a shooter comes into their child's school; they dread the day their child is the shooter. And they have nowhere to go for help. Access to high quality mental health care is essential, and they have nowhere to go.

Foster and adoptive families are particularly at risk for these parenting situations. The children they are raising have, by definition, come from trauma. Being separated from your parents is trauma, in and of itself. Many times, these same children deal with impairments from prenatal drug and/or alcohol exposure, making it even more difficult to deal with their issues. Often, there is a history of physical, emotional, verbal abuse. Even for those children who have "only" been neglected, there are lifelong ramifications.

And in the worst cases, Reactive Attachment Disorder robs children/teens of their ability to empathize in the most rudimentary ways, giving rise to severely mentally ill people. One parent said today, "We [must] treat RAD as the dangerous and terrible disorder that it is. It's difficult because they (the children) didn't ask to be abused and neglected. It doesn't change the danger factor though. There is little help, if any, and even if parents had hundreds of thousands of dollars to throw at it, there are few success stories."

Most parents raising RAD kids don't have significant training in dealing with the mental illness. Most birth parents of children with mental illness don't have any training, either. But all parents should have access to quality mental health services when they need them for their child(ren). This is not the circumstance at this time in history! There is a dearth of high quality mental health services, and the programs that exist are beyond the financial reach of most private citizens.

So, what can you do? Here are a few things:

1. Advocate for the mentally ill and for services for them.
2. Support parents when they approach parenting differently than you. Many times, they are struggling with issues you cannot see, especially if they are foster or adoptive parents. Children with attachment issues must be parented differently. Love doesn't "fix it."
3. Don't make these public tragedies solely about gun control! Bring mental health care into the conversation. And do it again. And again. And. Again.
4. Educate yourself about Reactive Attachment Disorder, especially if you know foster/adoptive parents. Be prepared to offer words of encouragement instead of words of condemnation.
5. Pray with and for parents of challenging kids. Step up in your church and community to support foster parents and adoptive families. Ask them what they need.
6. Look into volunteering for NAMI or another mental illness support organization. They do some wonderful work! One family speaks of a "Crisis Support Team" (from NAMI) that came immediately when their teenager had a mental crisis. They walked the family through the immediate crisis and aided them in planning for the longer term.

Carry the conversation beyond gun control and into the realm of mental illness treatment. Thank you for your advocacy!

No Time

This is a busy season of life for us. I'm teaching our 11-year-old at home, along with five Jicarilla kids, every day. We still have our two foster boys, ages 3 and 4, who attend Head Start. A day typically looks something like this:

Get up at 5:45 AM to walk. Take a shower. Get the boys up and dressed. Feed everyone breakfast. Take the boys to school, which starts at 8:00. Come home and get ready for the "big kids," who start coming at 8:45. Teach till 1:45. Students get picked up by 2:00, and then I leave to pick up the boys from Head Start. Come home, supervise play and make dinner. Play a bit, then give baths and read and pray. Rock the boys and sing songs. Come down to finish whatever chores need to be done, perhaps read a bit or play a game with our daughter. Read and pray with her, then tuck her in for the night. Relax for 20 minutes or so, then head upstairs ourselves for evening Bible study, prayer, and bed.

It's busy. There's no time for many things. From the arrival of the boys four months ago until about a week ago, I had no time for my daily walks.... Or should I say, I made no time for my daily walks.

See, the thing about being busy is that the time isn't gone, it's prioritized. Some things don't get done, but the essential things do get done. I almost always have time to eat, for example. And I usually get at least one round done on my "Words with Friends" games.

A couple of weeks ago, I realized that I hadn't been reading my Bible anymore. I was still reading with the boys at bedtime, with our 11 year old at her bedtime, and with my husband, but I wasn't doing any reading and study on my own. I know this is vital, essential, even. But it wasn't happening, so I started a new reading plan on my Bible app (I use You Version.) and made a decision to keep up with reading a chapter or two each day. Immediately, I began to notice my fatigue and attitude improve. I know this happens, but I still let myself get lazy every once-in-a-while and fall into bad habits.

I challenge you to look at your life right now. Are you making time for reading God's Word? Or are you making excuses (like I was) about how busy you are? Some seasons of life are busier than others, but no amount of "busy" should overtake our desire to seek God's will and read God's Word.

Now, I have my students here (on break right now) and the boys are here because Head Start is closed today. I probably need to get back to the busy life God has given me!

Have a blessed day!