"He will never leave you, nor forsake you"

I started a blog with this title last week. Forgot about it.

Saw it this morning.

Needed to see this. God is good.

I don't remember having ever been this terrified.

There are lots of words for what happens to people who have experienced extreme trauma.  

Detachment

possession

"dead" eyes

feral 

All refer to that moment when the world gets too much for these people and they "click off". They go away and let another, stronger, angrier, survivalist part of themselves take over. The light goes out.... and something else comes on. 

I have seen it in a young child named Ella*. She was 5 and her entire personality was a result of her abuse. Things would get too loud, too "good" too "hard" and she would click off. 

It is pitiful when you see it happen to a young child like that. 

It is downright terrifying in a teen/adult. 

I saw her change yesterday. Was taking her cell phone as a consequence, and my daughter wasn't there. Her eyes were dead. All that was left was her anger and rage. I have no idea how I weathered that storm.... until suddenly she stopped struggling against my hold (was holding her in my lap like a baby.... partly to restrain her, but partly in that "comfort position") and all of a sudden her breathing picks up... she has a panic attack, and starts screaming crying. 

The day  was long. During it we talked and prayed. She read a book that talked about the "unloving spirit" that a person can have. She understood that it is a part of her and wants it gone. 

But this morning her eyes went dead again. I didn't know if she would come back. I was at work, she was at home, flinging accusations and arguments across email like poisoned darts. My logic didn't stop her. She was in a full rage, about to tear apart the house to find her phone... to leave and never come back. 

Then I prayed. Sent her in email form what I prayed. And she stopped short. 

This is what I said. 

Heavenly Father, 

We are at a place where I truly don't know what to do. My daughter is under attack. This book called it an "unloving spirit". Father it is taking Mary over and I don't know what to do. God send it away. Defeat it. Send it to its knees. Tell it that is has NO POWER here. Because MY DAUGHTER is YOUR DAUGTHER. And MY DAUGHTER  is precious and loved and wonderful. MY DAUGHTER has been saved and this "spirit" IS NOT WELCOME. IT CAN'T HAVE HER.

God save us. We need a miracle. Save my daughter. Save Mary. I love her so much...... 

Amen. 

I don't know where the words came from....but they were there and then she was reading them. From there she fought. She fought and fought.... for a terrifying 10 minutes I thought she had lost. My husband ran home from work..... walked her the rest of the way through. 

And won the morning. 

I should feel relieved. But it isn't time to feel that yet. We are simply sleeping in between battles. 

It never ends

Snow White's grandparent's visits didn't get cut off with TPR. After saying goodbye, they are now demanding visits again. With no consideration for Snow White's feelings.

I spent an hour cleaning and reciting what I would say to the judge if/when we have a hearing about this.

Then the new, popular saying come to mind: Not my circus. Not my monkeys.

This is God's circus, and they are God's monkeys.

I am going to let Him handle it.


What a feeling of freedom :).

There are days when you get it right

Usually because you prayed your ass off not to screw it up.

Waiting to Inhale

You don't breathe steadily as a foster parent. At least I don't.

I am not saying I breath in anticipation either. There is no holding your breath and waiting to exhale in relief. Instead it feels like I am breathing the way you breath when in intense pain. Inhale and exhaling through the searing wound.

And those time when you aren't hurting? Crying? Cleaning up the disaster? You are waiting to inhale that next breathe through teeth clenched in pain.


Yes I am being dramatic.

But that is how it feels.


Right now things are steady. Right now everyone is behaving (albeit cranky from lack of sleep and a return to school). However instead of being thankful that the last visit has happened, thankful that Mulan seems to be sticking with her good behavior, thankful that my husband and I had a nice date night just three days ago..... I am waiting to Inhale.

Waiting for the next lash of the whip.

Waiting for it to all fall apart.


The system does this to us. It teaches us that a normal, steady life is next to impossible, that we should always expect the worst, and to never get to comfortable in the NOW.

While not purposeful, this feeling serves a purpose. It is the closest I will ever come to understanding what it must have been like for my babies before they came to me.


I think of Mulan in her home, surround by men who raped her on a regular basis, by women who beat her, and visitors who were indifferent to her. Times of calm must have been very disconcerting. Because they never lasted. They always ended with pain.


It is no wonder then, after almost a year with us, that she is still afraid. That she is still afraid of pain to come. Of abandonment. Of indifference. Of rape. Of a beating.

This understanding is weary, and my art struggles to pump through it. However it helps when I find doodles that she has drawn that say "I am tired of being afraid." This I can understand.


Dear God, I am tired of being afraid. Take my fear. Seriously God, take it away. Leave only faith in You. Faith that you love my babies even more than I do.
Amen.

Victory

I don't think it is an accident that the Father demands faith the most when victory is right around the corner.

I am in a time in my life where I should be my happiest in a long time. We are months away from adopting Snow White, our financial lives are on track, my husband has finally settled on a dream job, and I just received an award from the state for my personal career.


But everything came crashing down this weekend. The architect of our personal avalanch? Mulan.


Perhaps I should have anticipated this. Perhaps I should have anticipated that Snow White's adoption wouldn't cause her simple relief, but fear and jealousy.


Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.


Instead of being surrounded by positives, the world and by worldly life is filling up with negatives. The world is telling me that I am breaking. And worse. That I am suppose to break.


I am watching women around me break. Foster Moms who inspired me, people who I have never met in person (I am a fan of reading foster mom blogs) but helped me through this quagmire of foster care. They are breaking.

I think to myself "they are breaking... it is so going to happen to me. They had faith, theirs failed. Mine will fail too."

However ;).

This weekend I was asked to MC for our church. It was my job to open with a prayer, and in the midst of my horrible time, I was asked to be uplifting.

My first thought was "screw that."

(I lied it was F*&^ that)


But I ended up finding Joshua 10:8

"Do not be afraid of them," the LORD said to Joshua, "for I have given you victory over them. Not a single one of them will be able to stand up to you."



So for three services I prayed victory over our congregation. For three services I prayed victory over our marriages, our kids, our finances, our lives, and our souls. 


It sank in. 


I will have victory, damnit. 


This kid will not beat me.

Her raping son of a bitch grandfather will not beat me. 

Her past will not beat me. 

The enemy will not beat me. 

I refuse to lose this child. 

So all of those people can suck it. I will have victory.

What Love Does

Jealousy tears apart, while love brings together.

Absolute truth: I have been jealous of Snow White's first foster mom. Snow White still loves her so much, and hated to leave her home.

It is hard not being a child's one and only mommy. It is something I never thought I would have to deal with, and sometimes I don't come out on top.


However, props to me, Monday night I did.

I called Snow White's first foster mom and told her the good news. See the thing about her is that she was selfless. She loved Snow White enough to give her up (see my first post on Snow White for the details) and gave her to me.

Nothing she has ever done or said has been with any other motivation than doing what is best for our little girl.

So I called her. And we cried. We told each other how much we loved one another, how grateful we were to have one another. They saved Snow White's life. If she had been anywhere else when she came into care (we weren't licensed yet) Snow White wouldn't have been with us and probably would have returned home.

They saved her, and we will keep her safe.

I got to share this beautiful moment with this mother that God chose for our girl. On the phone, as our tears pored down, there was this connection that I haven't ever felt with anyone. A co-mommyhood if you will.

Sometimes it is hard to acknowledge the other adults in our foster kids' lives.

This time it wasn't hard at all.