Deep in My Heart

Let me start by saying that this post has nothing to do with country life or the simple life. It is about a subject that is etched deep in my heart. Orphans. Not orphans who's parents have passed away. Orphans who have been removed from their parents for one reason or another, usually by way of abuse or neglect.

I speak of the children who are in our nation's foster care system. These children range from day old infants up to 18 years old. More than 300,000 are in our foster care system. Over 100,000 of them are available for adoption. These numbers are staggering. So many children, so few willing families. Not enough families are willing to adopt a child from the system let alone become foster parents. It is a huge responsibility, yes. But if we don't care for these kids, who will?

These children are our future. Regardless of how bad their life has been, they will still turn 18 some day and age out of the system with or without a strong family foundation to lean on. The Bible tells us to take care of the widows and the orphans. We are to bring the orphans into our family and make them our children as we have been made children of our Heavenly Father.

With all of this being said, I have to share something. Without going into too much detail, first, we are in the process of adopting a family member who's in the foster care system. We absolutely would not have it any other way. Kin is kin. We care for our own.

Second, this has opened our door and our hearts to become foster parents to help other children in the system. There is a huge need for foster and adoptive parents. Not everybody has the desire or the means of taking care of kin.

As we get closer to becoming licensed, I find myself getting excited at the prospect of having more children in our home. I'm not happy about how or why they will be living with us. It saddens me to think about what a child must be going through when taken from the only family they know. The family that let them down time and time again.

On the positive side, the maternal thing is taking charge. The best way I can explain it is it's almost like when a woman is pregnant, anticipating the birth of her child. The waiting, the wondering, the planning. The age range we will foster will be 0-5 year old boys. I am doing everything in my power to not go shopping in the infant/toddler section at the stores. It would be wise to be prepared with a few items for the various age ranges. However, it's not necessary to go crazy and buy all sorts of brand new items. Still being a farmgirl at heart, being thrifty is the way to go.

I did buy new bedding for the spare bed in case we get an older child. Remembering when our family member came to live with us last year, he was SO excited to have a bed and a bedroom of his own. It's amazing and sad how the necessities of life become luxuries and are so much more appreciated when a child has been forced to live without them.

Our appointment to fill out paperwork with the social worker is 3 long weeks away. It won't be until September at the earliest when we're approved for our license. Then we just wait for the call. The call from a social worker letting us know that they need a home to place children, our home. That wait will be over. Then the new wait starts. In the meantime, my plan is to nurture and love on the kids that the Lord sends our way. If we're patient and faithful, He might even let us adopt one or more.

For resources/information on foster care adoption, please visit these websites: www.davethomasfoundation.com , www.adoptuskids.org

Great Grandma's Hands

Dora was her name. She was born in 1901. She witnessed many historical moments while growing up, all those decades of change and evolution from before the 20's through the 80's. She saw it all. Still, she remained. Sure, she rolled with the changes, maybe even got caught up in some. However, the woman I remember, Great Grandma, was humble and thrifty. She grew her own produce garden, baked her own pies- even won contests for her delicious confections. She made the best Sunday dinners. I remember homemade clam chowder, roasts with potatoes, carrots & onions, asparagus, homemade bread, the list is endless. Now a days, some of these would be considered old-fashioned farm dinners. Although she had a television, she preferred the radio. Big band music streamed from it during our Sunday visits. She lived through the Great Depression. Reusing tea bags, paper towels & plastic baggies were the norm. 8pm was her bedtime, even in the summer months when the sun didn't set until almost 10pm. Early to bed, early to rise was her motto. Oh, Grandma. I loved you so. She was the typical sweet grandma-type. She always had homemade cookies and milk ready for our visits. It was in her garden where I first fell in love with tiger lilies. I couldn't have been any older than 6 or 7. If I had to label Grandma, I would have to say that she was a true blue city farmgirl. She wouldn't even had known it since back then, making everything with ones own two hands was what they did.
One thing that I can't recall about her is that she loved to crochet. She must have picked up the hook & yarn when we weren't there for visits. But I know she crocheted because I have the proof. Not much proof but enough to proudly still have a part of her with me to this day. One of my most prized items is an apron she crocheted. Nothing fancy but knowing that it was made with her hands, makes it very special to me. The only other item is some crocheted lace that once adorned a pillow case. The pillow case, which was in my possession when I was in my 20's ws torn and tattered. Not yet appreciating the love that went into that case with it's handmade lace, I threw the case away. But only after I cut the lace off of it. Now, I wish I had kept it intact, tattered case and all. In my mind at the time, I thought that I'd save the lace that was handmade by Grandma and reuse it someday on a new project. After two decades of having this lace, I have forgotten where I stored it. I do know that it's in my closet....somewhere. I'm just not sure where. Now that I've gotten in touch with my farmgirl side, I'm anxious to tear apart my closet to find the lace. Once I do, first I'll be relieved to have found it. Second, I can't wait to hold that lace in my hands and inspect the stitches and imagine my grandma sitting in her cozy chair in the dimly lit corner of he tiny living room, her hands hard at work, stitching every stitch with love. I wonder who or what she was thinking about when she stitched so much love into that pillow case lace....