Our feature is on page 102 and we are SO grateful for being selected for this!
If you click on the “plus” sign it will enlarge the pages for easier reading. It gives a little glimpse into our heart for children and why we do what we do.
Our feature is on page 102 and we are SO grateful for being selected for this!
If you click on the “plus” sign it will enlarge the pages for easier reading. It gives a little glimpse into our heart for children and why we do what we do.
The majority of the children we foster have parents that are in active addiction. We began our journey with addiction in 2005 when we brought home an infant who was born to a young girl in jail who still had 10 months left on her sentence. I wrote about this in an earlier post in case you’re interested, but the short story is that I knew that this girl was suffering in jail not knowing who had her newborn baby. One day I was holding this precious baby and I felt a wave of emotion flood over me as if I were returning to jail empty. I felt how it would feel to be her, to be alone in a jail cell feeling so isolated and empty, separated from a child that she had carried for so many months. I determined in my heart to love her even before we had met. This led to a journey that we could never have imagined in our wildest dreams, and exposed us to a world that few know about. I learned to spot things that would go unnoticed to most, I learned to recognize everything about addiction and could walk into Wendy’s and tell you who was high and who was needing a fix. It really is a dark and desperate lifestyle. The temporary high is followed by a life of drama, chaos, loss, betrayal, lies, incarceration, and separation. When you love an addict, you lose a part of yourself. There is no way around it, and it is soul crushing. But we loved her and we loved her baby girl, and she became one of us along the way.
What we do is difficult enough, raising other people’s children. They come with their own individual challenges and personalities, and unless they are infants, they have already become accustomed to the chaos of life with an unstable parent. We have to be exceptionally patient with the new ones, and incredibly diplomatic with our regular children who are adjusting to new kids. No easy task.
The bottom line is that these kids love their parent. So do we! That’s why it is hard to say no to an addict when they are suffering so much, it is hard to get that call at 3am to get out of bed and go pick them up off a street corner, it is hard to love a woman who doesn’t love herself and wants to take out all of life’s pain on the people trying to help her. It. Is. HARD.
It isn’t glamorous, it isn’t sexy, it’s not mingling at wine tastings and benefit auctions while rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful. It’s holding someone’s hair back while they vomit from withdrawals, sitting with them at the hospital after an overdose, and explaining to their kids why they didn’t show up when they said they would. It is checking the law enforcement website every hour to see if they’ve been arrested because you don’t know where they are and then feeling relieved to know they ARE in jail because they can’t harm themselves. It is late night or early morning drives to pick them up when they are released from jail and they have nowhere to go. Literally, nowhere to go. They can’t go back to the drug house where they were and stay sober. They can’t come to our house because Child Protective Services won’t allow it because we have foster kids. There is only one shelter in this entire community and it serves 3,000+ homeless. They have no real friends, only acquaintances. Their own family can’t help them or won’t help them. It’s just us, and a smattering of local non profit ministries trying to help keep them off the streets. Loving an addict is rubbing your knees raw from kneeling in prayer and calling out for God’s mercy and protection to keep someone from suicide or a drug overdose and then that late night phone call late in December from a Deputy confirming that your worst fear had actually happened.
Fostering children born to drug addicts means that you may have to sit across from a wide eyed child and deliver the news that the one who gave birth to them has died. It is holding them while they sob and wail with sounds that pierce your gut. It is months and years of depression and counseling and bouts of acting out because they are children, and their hope of ever being reunited with their parent has also died. We have been face to face with this situation more than once. It depletes you on a level that you never knew existed because the dynamics are anything but typical. People don’t mourn the loss of an addict like they would if they died in a car accident or from cancer. It is somehow a death that was deserved or inevitable and although sympathy is there, it is awkward. Then there is the guilt felt by all of us- did we do enough, did we do the wrong things, what could we have done to stop it, on and on times infinity. We tried for 12 years to rehabilitate and love our daughters birth mom into stability. A journey that was tender, frightening, traumatizing, and filled with love. Things that aren’t supposed to coexist, but they do when you love an addict.
There are times that I blame myself for trying to forge a relationship with our daughter and her birth mom. I truly believed that she would choose a life with her beautiful little girl, and never look back. I insisted on it, I made it easy for her with all my planning and activities and photo moments- all she had to do was show up and take the credit. But there were too many times she didn’t show up. Too many times our little girl had to ask why her other mommy didn’t come, or why she didn’t call, or why she came but didn’t stay more than 5 minutes. So many disappointments mixed in with small moments of great joy. I look back now and see how difficult it was on all of us, including our daughter, to navigate the emotions and the turmoil and the costly love… and it makes me question if I did the right thing. I still don’t know the answer to that question but this I do know- she knew that we loved her, she knew that God loved her, and because of our relationship with her she gave her heart to the Lord, and that means everything to me. Even though she made a bad decision that took her life, she knew God and is with him now.
Thanks for listening.
This popped up in my facebook memories and I had to share it again. It’s hilarious. Conversation with Gigi my 10 year old 4th grader and Emily my 16 year old sophomore.
Gigi: “So, get this, now THREE boys at school like me!”
Me: “Really? which ones?”
Gigi: “Well, William, and now Hykeem and Jeremiah.”
Emily: “Weren’t you just saying that you liked Jeremiah?”
Gigi: “Yeah, I did like him but then William gave me a ring.”
Me: “Well, Gigi, this is something you have to learn early on.. you can’t lead boys on… You have to decide which one you like and then let the others ones down gently so you don’t break their little hearts. I mean, you already have a ring from William, now what will you do if Jeremiah shows up at school gives you a ring? Then what would happen?”
Gigi: (pausing, then matter of factly says)… “I’d make up my mind after I saw the ring.”
Emily: “Wow. Just wow Giana.”
This is some of us at Medieval Times dinner theaters in Kissimmee Florida. We had a spectacular vacation, taking 12 kids to see things they’ve never experienced and show them new adventures while they are with us.
There were several kids missing from this trip because of work and other scheduling conflicts, but we had our hands full, believe me. If you want to know just how patient you are, take a dozen kids ages 2 to 20 with different personalities and interests to a theme park in 95 degree weather in Florida with the occasional life threatening lightning downpours, 60 minutes lines for rides, and you will quickly find out where your patience ends.
By the end of this trip as we were packing to leave by the 10am deadline, I was stuffing things into any random suitcase not caring whose it was or if it was folded or not and yelling at the top of my lungs for them to stop playing around and shenaniganizing while going from room to room finding things everywhere that I just told them to pack and threatening them with dismemberment. Eventually, I went into the bathrooms with a basket and swiped my arm across the counters and watched as every bottle of everything imaginable fell into it and then I shoved it into my big cosmetic bag all willy nilly and zipped it up. Not my finest organizational moment and one that I am now paying for as I have to unpack everything and figure out where it all goes, but still. In THAT moment it was completely satisfying.
We are now home, safe and sound.
Mommy and Daddy are flippin’ exhausted but the insane amounts of sweat, the sacrifice of our sleep and sanity, and the major hit to the pocketbook was totally worth it. If you think it is a “vacation” or “restful” for Bruce and I, you would be wrong. There have been people out there to suggest that we do these things with the kids for our own benefit, and to them I would say to simply come on one of these trips with us. It is nothing less than round the clock work and many of these kids react very differently to new and exciting environments which keeps our adrenaline flowing. It is go go and go some more, and it is like herding cats.
Cats with opinions and attitudes.
Hungry and cranky cats, cats that are sneaky and break the rules in a house you don’t own with furniture that is fragile. Anyway, you get the idea…
We do this because it is urgent. It is not something we can put off until later. You see, we don’t know how long many of these kids will be with us, what their future holds, or if they’ll be here for our next adventure… so while they are here, in every single moment, we try to pack in as much learning, love, and life changing experiences as we can. Taking them places they have never been, encouraging them to try new things, to be brave, to taste different foods, and for our long term kids establishing traditions that they come to cherish- THAT is what it is all about. KKIDS, Inc. is for kids, every kid that needs us, any time they need us, for as long as they need us. Every child needs to know there are caring adults out there that will drop everything and do anything for them, and we are those adults for many kids. We have to break the generational cycle of addiction and abuse, poverty and entitlement, by showing them a different way of life. With a lot of love.
By the way, they LOVED this adventure and it was an awesome history lesson for them! Curious minds…
2016 was a big, big year.
As if raising a dozen kids wasn’t enough, we took the necessary steps to start a non-profit foundation this year to help protect children and restore families and bring awareness to the growing epidemic and the desperate need for foster families. We also started the foundation so that your gifts could be tax deductible and so we could continue providing for these kids financially.
In doing so, we received the most amazing outpouring of love and support both financially and spiritually from people who believe in our mission, know our hearts, and want to help as many children as possible. The encouragement has been so unexpected and we treasure it!
We also, however, opened up the door for people to criticize us and offer their unsolicited advice and make outrageous accusations based solely on assumptions.
We truly love, appreciate, and VALUE advice from trusted friends, people who have experience and knowledge to offer us, and those that have walked this journey and know from their own experience what we are living out. We are exceptionally open to ideas, concepts, and knowledge that will help us help kids and do a better job at what we are doing. Absolutely. What we are NOT open to are people who do not have our best interests at heart and purposely try to be damaging in word or deed. We know we are doing something good, something needed, and something life changing. We are now aware that this will bring criticism from those who aren’t.
The number one appalling accusation that really, truly gets under my skin, is when people insinuate that we foster children because we are financially motivated. That we are scamming the system and we take in children so we can live a luxurious lifestyle. (I can hardly even maintain my composure while I type that statement because it’s so ludicrous and laughable. I’m sure that every one of you who know us are laughing too.)
For those who aren’t aware, let us give you some facts so you no longer have to speculate. We do not receive ANY federal or state funds for raising these kids. NONE. Zero. Zip. Nada. Not even food stamps! We will be applying for grants in the future, but currently we receive nothing.
We provide a loving home and everything these kids need as “non relative caregivers” which allows their parent or grandparent to maintain their benefits. People think we are nuts for not going after what little money there is, but for us it is not about the money. It’s about maintaining a healthy relationship with their caregiver and NOT traumatizing them even more than they have been by losing their kids.
This is how we operate: from our perspective, they have already lost their children and perceive us as the bad guys, they survive on a poverty level income barely making ends meet, and we aren’t going to add to their problems or in any way make it seem like we care more about money than we care about them. We just aren’t. This is something that we are highly criticized for and, again, we find it objectionable that people who have no firsthand experience with this are wagging fingers at us. If they are upset that we aren’t taking their benefits they would probably also be upset that we often help them make ends meet. We make sure they have birthday and Christmas gifts, we make sure they have delicious holiday meals, we have paid their utility bills, furnished their homes, paid down payments for them, phone bills, cable, you name it. And do you know why we do it? It’s for the kids. 100% for the kids. Because the kids love their parents!
So, let’s talk about money. That painful subject, that taboo subject, that root of all evil that turns people against each other.
How much money would it actually take for someone to be financially motivated to be a foster parent to this many kids? Let’s figure it out, shall we?
Wikipedia says it costs an average of $9,500 to raise one child annually and that’s just for the basics. I can guarantee you it costs more than that when they have asthma, are involved in sports, driving a car, need glasses or braces, or grow 4 inches in one year and need new shoes and clothes. But let’s say that, on average, we need to be spending $100,000 annually on just the kids we are raising right now, which is a conservative figure. That doesn’t include the cost of Bruce and myself, the kids’ extended families, or the mom’s in jail that we support.
So, for us to be financially motivated to foster children, we would have to receive well above the $100k that pays for just the kids, right? I mean, how can we afford our luxury cars, our boat, our mansion, and our lavish vacations otherwise?
Indeed, I jest.
We would love to have donations over and above $100k annually, and someday we hope to!
But currently, that figure is not even in the ball park. Not even in the parking lot near the ball park. Not even in the town the ballpark is in.
So it is apparent that we are not growing wealthy as foster parents.
As a matter of fact, we are sacrificing a lot of things that most of you probably take for granted.
Things that no amount of money can compensate for.
These are a few things we have chosen to give up to have our very large family:
A Job: With them being in several different schools with several different schedules, it is a 24 hour a day, 365 day a year job with limited time off (none) and you are always, ALWAYS “on call” and always doing laundry. My job as the chief taxi driver, bottle washer, butt wiper, and referee is the toughest, most rewarding job I’ve ever done that I don’t get paid for.
Vacations: No more vacations to exotic places or vacations that require air travel because it is cost prohibitive to take 15 people an an airplane.
It’s cost prohibitive to take 15 people anywhere! Two years ago we took all of them on a trip of a lifetime to Busch Gardens. We drove two cars stuffed with people, bought lunchmeat and bread, blow up mattresses and got 3 hotel rooms. We ate breakfast out once and bought pizza one night. This little venture that lasted 4 days costs almost $5,000.00 which was basically $333 per person. Unless we hit the lottery or have a gofundme fundraiser, vacations are out of the picture.
Movies: We only get to go to the movies when it’s free for a screening. (Thank you Crystal Gross!) Who can afford an evening out that’s going to cost $100? Certainly not us. Popcorn and treats for 2 people at the movies is about $15, imagine what it costs to buy treats for a dozen kids! We buy our DVD’s at WalMart and make our own popcorn but it’s not the same as going to the theater, I’m not gonna lie.
Shopping: We gave up shopping at the mall or even going to the mall because they will see and want things that will never, ever be in the budget like $150 shoes that their friends are wearing or a top that costs $35. The average price we pay for an article of clothing is $9.00 and most of what they wear has been donated.
Drive-Thrus: Forget about zipping through a drive through when you’re hungry unless you plan on buying everyone in your car something to eat. You either wait until you get home or your $5 meal just turned into $35 because they all want something too. We do drive-thru’s on a limited basis and everyone has to share. I carry a jar of nuts in my car and usually bring fruit along.
Luxury Car: Gone are the days when I sped around town in a red convertible. Gone are the days when our cars were neat and you didn’t have to step over shoes, jackets, bags, wrappers, and toys. Now I drive a 16 year old Suburban with 290k miles that smells like a mildewy rolling locker room and is being held together with clear duct tape.
Privacy: Everything we do, everything we have, and how we live our lives is on display for complete strangers who show up to have family visitation time with the kids every week. We have to drop what we are doing to “supervise” this time or we have to meet them at a public place. Is it convenient? Nope. It’s intrusive and uncomfortable and awkward. But we do it because we love the kids and it’s important to them. We also have lovely social workers visiting on a regular basis doing routine paperwork each month and sometimes we get the lovely unannounced visit for an inspection because a disgruntled parent or family member reports us for some made up violation and waste the taxpayers dollars by making false reports.
Quietness: We rarely ever have an evening when nobody is home where we have the house to ourselves. If this happens it is because someone has been grievously injured and is in the hospital, they have been kidnapped, or the rapture has occurred. They are so loud that everyone in the neighborhood knows when we are eating dinner because of the epic noise level that occurs when they are all in the same room at the same time. We often wear earplugs. We suggest earplugs for our dinner guests as well.
Order: The rooms in our house will never, ever be clean and neat all at the same time and we have to pick up and vacuum on a daily basis or our house will look like an episode of hoarders simply because all these people come with “stuff” and there is barely room for all the “stuff” to be contained. We, literally, have multiple clothing dressers in our dining room and the baby sleeps in a pop up crib in our master bedroom closet and you can’t walk through the garage.
Spontaneousness: For those rare occasions when you have the energy for “time with your spouse”, those moments have to be planned, scheduled, manipulated, and carried out with the stealth precision of a moon landing in 7 minutes or less (give or take), before someone notices that you aren’t in the room and they need a band aid or are shouting for you throughout the house because they just stepped in poop. What would it take for you to have to walk over mounds of laundry, toys, shoes, dirty socks, papers, backpacks, and wet towels every single day and turn down last minute invitations with your friends for a fun evening out because you are so tired that the thought of putting on makeup and a bra doesn’t seem worth it?
Feelings: This is the toughest one. You have to put aside your feelings. That just comes with the territory. You get used to it after awhile but in the beginning it was tough. Having these precious little children that you have raised for years and years- wiped their tears, wiped their butts, up at night with them, at every special event, baking them cupcakes, taught them everything they know, taking them to school every day, planning every birthday party they’ve ever had, bathing them, feeding them, your entire life lived for them… and every handcrafted little handprinted take home gift they make at school is for their “other” mom. Big let down. Then there are the times when they are angry they will remind you that you aren’t their “real mom” and they don’t have to listen to you. The worst is when they accuse us of being the reason why they aren’t with their other mom when we had nothing to do with it.
Opinions: You have to zip your lip, bite you tongue, and choke down the urge to say what you really feel to the people who have failed them, who keep making the wrong choices over and over and over and over again… and you do it because you love the kids. You smile and nod while listening to the advice of the sincere church friend or relative who tells us that we should just stop helping and give up, or questions our ability to handle these kids and all their emotional needs and points out our flaws and shortcomings. You want to say “okay you choose which child I should give back”, and then watch them stammer but you don’t. You want to point out to them that our worst job of parenting is exponentially 100% better than what they had, but you stay silent. Most of the time.
So let’s ask ourselves realistically- What’s the price tag on giving up your lives so someone else can have it better?
Are we simply motivated by our “get rich quick scheme” to scam the system that we aren’t scamming and just faking our investment of time, love, energy, and all of our resources?
There is no amount of money that can make this appealing unless your heart is completely motivated by love.
There is nothing we love more than loving and providing for them. They bring us so much joy, they are the light of our lives. They are worth it every day, in every way.
So, to all you haters out there, you’ll be happy to know that we are barely making ends meet and we wonder each month about how we will get by and keep the bills paid and healthy food on the table.
You should also know that we don’t worry about it and that we have complete and utter faith in God to provide for our family and protect us from naysayers who don’t know what they are talking about.
We do, however, want to invite you over to spend the day with us so you can experience what money can’t buy.
I have cleaned, refurbished, repainted, rearranged, pressure washed, deloused, fixed, hired, rewired, scrubbed and mopped many houses for people. I love doing it, and I loved working along with some of you who jumped in to help!
I had expectations that this gift to them would inspire them to be more involved, a better parent, keep a clean house for their kids, I don’t know… whatever.
Sadly, most of these houses returned to the state they were in before we came to help. Filthy, downtrodden, infested, ruined, or abandoned. Several times we have provided this service for the same family with the same expectations. Bought beautiful furniture for them, cleaned, painted, gardened, made every home and apartment they went to into a showplace!
We were always disappointed when things were ruined, sold, soiled and stained. It’s like they didn’t care at all.
To some it would appear our efforts were in vain, why would we bother with people like this?
The fact of the matter is that I was the one who was wrong.
I was the one who was serving with expectations. Transparent strings attached. Hopeful that they would do it my way from now on.
I was the one who was disappointed when it seemed like they didn’t “appreciate it enough to keep it up”.
Shame on me.
Most of us have no idea what limitations other people have. Some are limited by physical issues, some financial, some time and energy, some just can’t organize their thoughts enough to tackle things. Everything overwhelms them. Sometimes it’s a 75 year old Grandma who is raising her grandkids and just can’t keep up with them AND work her job at a fast food restaurant.
If we can bring cleanliness, joy, brightness, dishes, decorations, clean sheets, curtains, food, organization, and order to someones home, even if it is just temporary, then that’s what we try to do.
We are not to judge.
We are to lift the fallen, help the broken, and serve without expectations. Always.
We are to pick up a broom.
“There should be less talk; a preaching point is not a meeting point.
What do you do then? Take a broom and clean someone’s house.
That says enough.”
― Mother Teresa
“At the end of life we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received, how much money we have made, how many great things we have done.
We will be judged by “I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat, I was naked and you clothed me. I was homeless, and you took me in.”
― Mother Teresa
“I can do things you cannot, you can do things I cannot; together we can do great things.”
― Mother Teresa
“Love to be real, it must cost—it must hurt—it must empty us of self.”
― Mother Teresa
I am ashamed to admit it, but I had a major meltdown last week.
Do you want to know why?
It’s because I caved into jealousy.
Jealousy that led to pity and sorrow.
I sure did.
I jumped on the pity party bus and went for a long ride around “they don’t appreciate me” park, and stopped for awhile at the “I could have nice things if I didn’t have so many mouths to feed” cafe, and then sped down the “nobody appreciates me” parkway while I cried the ugly cry with fat, stupid tears like a baby. While I was on my little journey I took note of my friends on Facebook traveling to romantic destinations while I went nowhere, enjoying lunches and manicures with their besties while I layered on the 19th coat of gunked up nail polish on my cracked and chipped toes and my feet look like hooves, and I saw them dressing up in sparkly frocks and sinner shoes as they enjoyed a Friday night with live music while I listened for the 39th time to “Wheels on the Bus”.
I see them at cross fit working out and I see the interior of their spotless homes with their matching furniture and their designer pieces as they sit around chatting with friends over a nice dinner. A nice, quiet, adult dinner where I don’t have to stuff paper towels in my ears to dull the noise.
I also noticed women my age driving around in new luxury cars with designer purses sipping Starbucks that cost $4 and the interior of their cars were spotless! It has been 18 years since my car was spotless. Currently, my left headlight is being held into place with clear duct tape and my right rear window doesn’t work and the interior door panel is falling off. You have to open the door from the outside. And there is no working air conditioning.
I convinced myself that these ungrateful, loud, messy children didn’t care about my sacrifices and my dedication to them and could care less that I haven’t had a facial in 14 years. I have to repeat myself 27 times to get them to do anything around here and they never, ever turn off lights or unplug anything. I mean, why should I spend $400 on an electric bill when I could spend $400 getting much needed BOTOX! These kids are giving me wrinkles. Or God forbid we could go on an actual date without trying to move heaven and earth and refinance our entire food budget!
We haven’t been out to eat or seen a movie in over a year.
Carrabba’s MISSES me.
Oh I was mad. I was working myself up into a good woe is me.
I dejectedly announced that I was not going to make them delicious smoothies, I was not going to be picking up after any of them any more, that I would not be reminding them to do their chores, and that in one day this house would look like an episode of Hoarders and they would all be grounded. It was time they think for themselves that I was not Julie the cruise director.
I took away their X Box games and hid them in my room.
That’ll teach them.
And then I cried. I cried and felt sorry for myself.
This lasted for a few hours. I know, right? So not like me.
I was beginning to wonder what was happening to me, and then I realized it.
It was a spiritual thing.
What a hypocrite I was! Teaching my kids that money can’t buy happiness, that God supplies all our needs, that a fancy car and the trappings of our society aren’t what life is all about… and then I get sucked into it!
I did what I should have done in the first place when I felt that twinge of envy, and I prayed.
I prayed, and I asked God to forgive me.
Forgive me for being weak and selfish.
Forgive me for being shortsighted and stupid.
I have more blessings and love and laughter than anyone I know.
I am blessed with a husband who loves me who loves these kids, loves to cook, loves to dance, and loves God. How rare is that??
I am blessed with a car, a roof over my head, a pool my kids can swim in, and food to feed them all. Just being able to feed all of them is a miracle!
I am an American, I am safe, I have opportunity, and that is something that half the world covets.
I have no business whatsoever complaining or feeling sorry for myself. I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of others, and that comes at a cost.
I chose this life. I chose to love and shelter children, to reach out to neighbors and hurting women, and I chose to sacrifice so they could have a better life. Nobody forced me, I chose it.
And, even in those rare moments where I envy someone else’s glamorous lifestyle, I wouldn’t trade what I have for any of it.
What I have can’t be bought.
It’s messy, it’s hard work, it’s inconvenience, and it’s expensive. It’s exhausting.
It’s also amazing, fulfilling, exhilarating, and priceless.
A glamorous life is great, I used to live one back in the day, but it doesn’t compare to the life I have now.
I want to leave this world exhausted and broke knowing I spent everything I had and every ounce of energy trying to make a difference in the lives of others.
Besides, you can’t fit a zillion kids into a Lexus no matter how hard you try and they would just mess it up anyway.
He is almost 21 years old and doesn’t have a dream.
He doesn’t have a drivers license or a car.
He never graduated school because nobody cared enough to make sure he did.
This poor young man on the cusp of adulthood has no clue how to “adult”.
He has no idea who he is, what he likes, how to do much of anything, and he dreams of nothing.
He has never gone to a football game with friends, gone to a school dance, gone on a field trip, seen an art gallery, gone on a vacation, gone to a theme park, gone rock climbing, hiking, skiing, built anything with Legos, gone fishing, played on a team, gone to camp, built anything, assembled a toy, had an electric scooter, or been to a museum.
He has never dined at a fine restaurant or worn a suit.
He doesn’t have a best friend.
He doesn’t know how to balance a checkbook, get a library card, or prepare even the simplest meal.
He doesn’t know because nobody ever showed him, nobody was around to teach him, and the only role models he has had have been pitiful to say the least.
He has gone nowhere and is going nowhere.
He has lived in many, many houses and gone to many different schools, connecting with nobody and growing roots nowhere.
This young man has no tangible memories of childhood whatsoever.
No baby book with pictures, no baby teeth saved in a porcelain box, no videotapes of him laughing or playing in the bathtub.
No elementary school pictures on the fridge or on the wall, nothing.
There is nothing that was saved from his entire childhood.
It’s as if it was a vapor.
As they walk from room to room in my house they always look at the baby pictures I have on the wall.
I see in these kids an emptiness, a jealousy. They want to be important enough to have a place on the wall. Important enough that memories and keepsakes would be treasured and not pawned, lost, or stolen.
They harbor a deep sorrow, they mourn their missing childhood. He has existed for so many years on cigarettes, monster drinks, and video games.
Drugs that he was accustomed to because he watched the people around him.
Drugs to dull the painful hopelessness.
Drugs to have something, anything, to look forward to.
Drugs so that he can have something in common with someone and “hang out” together.
Drugs that his mother shared with him at a very young age and, after he became addicted, had to buy for him.
Our job now is to lift him up, steady his steps, and bring him back to the nest because he is not ready to fly.
Our job is to stay with him until he figures out who he is and can make it on his own.
Our job is to help him find the sparkle that may have existed in his eyes at some point.
A sparkle to replace the empty dull haze.
He has hurdles to overcome, major hurdles.
He has limited, awkward social skills because he wasn’t socialized.
Nobody ever taught him the things that he needs to navigate being a young adult.
“Adulting” is hard. It’s even harder when you had no adult to lead the way.
He doesn’t feel confident, he is fidgety and nervous.
Most of the adults in his life have taken advantage of him or let him down in every way.
He isn’t sure who he can trust.
We have known him and his siblings since they were very young, and regret that we didn’t do something extreme to intervene so that they could have come to us earlier.
We believed in the parent, until time unveiled the reality of the lies.
We can’t change what happened in the past, but we can certainly do everything we can to make it up to him now and in the future.
Thanks to all of you who are making is possible.
by Karen Scott