Sides, household of seven (?!?!)
It's been one week since we said yes to a foster placement.
Our family took a road trip over Memorial Day weekend to visit Lindsey’s family in southeast New Mexico. I was planning to share about the enchanting and disenchanting things we saw on our travels through the Land of Enchantment in my next post. But then last week happened. We said yes to a non-traditional kinship placement of a 6-year-old boy and a 2-year-old girl. They are the younger siblings of the sisters we fostered way back in 2016. With barely 24 hours notice, we became a household of seven.
The scenario was oddly (eerily?) similar to what happened the first week of June last year when we were asked to be the placement for our girls’ 2-year-old half-brother. That never materialized because the county found placement with other family. History does not repeat itself, but it does rhyme.
So, on Monday of last week, we got a call from our county’s social services office asking if we would be open to welcoming these two kids as non-traditional kinship. We were told that there were two other family (kinship) placements they needed to vet before us. We told the county that they could consider us emergency backup.
On Tuesday, an hour before the temporary custody hearing, the case worker called to tell me the news and ask if we were 100 percent yes. I called Lindsey. We talked. In a 30-minute blur, we tried to condense the counsel we had received over the previous 24 hours, sort our own emotions / understanding of God’s calling, our connection to this particular family over the last decade, and our sense of being able to effectively parent five kids from hard places. We decided that accepting this placement—saying yes to these kids, saying yes to what we took to be God’s leading—was the right to do. We said yes.
Thirty minutes later, I was at the custody hearing. Three hours after the hearing concluded, the kids arrived at our house.
I was listening to my Bible app on my drive into work that Tuesday morning, the possibility of what might happen hanging over me. My heart needed good news, something to break through the stress and heaviness. The Gospel reading was from the book of Luke 19, the parable of the 10 minas. “I tell you that everyone who has, more will be given.” I heard that and wondered. Wondered if things were about to get real. Coincidence? Poor hermeneutics? Maybe. And yet more was given.
Recapping all of this now feels surreal and almost unbelievable. This really happened. There are so many details about the last 10 days that I can’t possibly recount now.
In the foster care world, the truest thing is that multiple things can be true at the same time. Right now, in this prolonged moment of adjustment and change, many things are true.
God is providing, as he always does, especially when it comes to scheduling and logistics, and also in the people who are showing up and loving us well. This work requires community—a household.
There are lots of uncanny, God-ordained details about how things are unfolding. It’s reassuring to see that he sees.
There’s a weighty sense of overwhelm right now. My brain feels like mush. Lindsey and I knew that this would probably be the hardest thing we’ve ever done. That certainly feels true right now.
We’re enjoying and thankful for the extra life in our home (there’s nothing like rocking a 2-year-old to sleep). James is loving having another boy to do boy things with.
On that note, our kids (our actual kids) have been loving and welcoming to the new additions. I am so proud of them for how they’ve handled these adjustments and how they have contributed to this work.
Five is more than three. Did you know that?
Prayer requests
I could write another 2,000 words but I need to stop. I plan to write more later but just wanted y’all to know about our new reality and ask for your prayers. Here are the biggies at this moment:
The 6-year-old boy is having a hard time adjusting to a different sleep routine. For most of this week, he’s gotten up multiple times per night. He says he feels afraid and scared. We’re making adjustments, but please pray for his felt safety and ability to sleep through the night—as that affects the wellbeing of all of us.
He is having a hard time—period. And understandably so. He’s confused and afraid, and that is often manifested in anger. We’ve seen an uptick in anger-type behaviors this week. Please pray for his healing—which will likely take the rest of his life—and our ability to coach and guide and correct with patience and wisdom.
Lindsey and the kids are participating in a Backyard Kids Club this week. (Think VBS but in a backyard.) Please pray that the gospel presentation takes root in the boy’s heart, that the Spirit opens up his young eyes to the Father’s love and Jesus’s work of redemption. And that our family’s time with friends and learning / worship fuels us with hope and assurance as we go about this endeavor.
All seven of us are feeling the stress that comes with sudden change, with being uprooted from an actual home or just the normal cadences and flow of normal life. Please pray for an abundance of Spirit-filled living. The 2-year-old loves to play with these sticky Fruit of the Spirit cards that we’ve used in our homeschool. She is definitely on to something.
With foster care comes loads of administrative and scheduling work. Lindsey is taking the bulk of this. Please pray for clarity, discernment, and joy in hashing out what feels like a thousand moving pieces.
With visits scheduled, we’ll be having frequent points of contact with the bio mom, whom we’ve known for several years now. The county has given Lindsey and I quite a bit of the details that prompted the removal of her kids. It’s a mess. Please pray for her—that God would lead her to repentance and healing and a new way of living.
I am taking on a father-son camping trip this weekend hosted by Restoration Project. This has been on the calendar for almost a year. And I feel unprepared and drained heading into this weekend. Please pray for my health and energy, and also that God would help James and I connect on deep levels and that we’d come home refreshed by his love. And pray for our relationship with our three kids, that we’d be gentle and understanding and make time to connect with them.
Lindsey will also be getting some respite this weekend, primarily on Saturday. Please pray for a refreshing time and space to think, plan, and focus.
When we were in New Mexico, we took the kids to Carlsbad Caverns—the supremely beautiful cave(s) out in the desert. I had not visited since my childhood, so the experience was rather remarkable. There’s lots I could say about it, but I’ll keep it to one thing. We learned that precipitation on the surface can take up to eight months before it seeps down into the limestone caverns where it evaporates, leaving behind deposits calcium carbonate that form the stalagmites, stalactites, columns, and other features that make the cave such a wonder.
I’ve been thinking about this over the last several days. In a situation like the one in which we find ourselves, we don’t know how things will end. We don’t know what affect our sacrifices will make in the lives of the kids we’ve welcomed. Or even how our own lives will be shaped and changed by this. That’s an uncomfortable place to be in. It feels a bit like being in the dark. So we are being very open-handed with the longevity and purpose of this placement. We do not know how long the kids will be with us. We don’t know what God is doing or what his timeline is. We are praying that whether these kids are with us for a few weeks or a few months, that eventually the Father’s love will seep through the limestone of hard places and fearful hearts, and one day create something new and lasting that wasn’t there before.
Thanks for the prayers and walking this journey with us.
Wow, Trevor, that's a load and you all are making such a difference in the kids' lives. We're praying for you and Lindsey.
Jack