Kiddos With Faces Part Two

(Continued from previous post, "The Other Children")

THE CHILD  in foster care: willing to be real, passionate, resilient, wounded, tougher than hell,  creative.

A child's resentment, separated from family and friends, should not be a surprise to an adult.  Paradox:  a child is removed from a home for their own protection.  And, the same parents who neglected them and / or  abused them physically / sexually / psychologically / emotionally are still their parents.  Even if  parental rights are removed, the child in foster care still acknowledges those two tormented adults as ... her parents.  The child is conflicted: family is being violated; the child is in trauma from being ripped away from the parents; the child is in trauma because of the pain caused by the parents; but the child does not completely understand his / her trauma, betrayal, rage, helplessness.

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Perception is reality.  The child percieves that it was my fault, their removal from their family, their placement in the group home.  This is her reality.

"Perception is the greatest reality, but not necessarily the ultimate truth."  

Bishop Carleton

Truth, as opposed to perception: the child's removal from home, separation from parents, was not my fault.

I walk in, and sit down, for the first meeting.  In that room, there is caution, tears, pain in their faces, anger, defiance in words or refusal to speak, and reluctance to make eye contact.  Gradually, some rapport is established,with some kiddos; and with others rapport comes.  

There never was a shortage of children needing out-of-home-placement, and there never will be.
  

It is good, to remember the children.  I will not forget the children.  There will always be children, this side of heaven.  Some are blessed with good and reliable parents, in a home that is safe; food to eat; nice clothes to wear.  Some are abandoned; or removed from the home; or traumatized; or living on the street; or in lock-up; or all of the above; or any combination.

I am a hopeful man: there will be an end to the suffering, some day.  I am a realistic man: there is no end in sight to the generational repetition of injustice against children.  I am hopeful and realistic: there will be an end, someday, to the children's suffering; there are many children to love; we have a ways to go before the end of the suffering; and there is much to do.

*Photo copyrighted from Shutterstock.com

We all must come back to the table, for the children.  Its hard, painful, confusing, sorrowful, and encouraging to see the children laugh, being loved, sleeping in a warm bed, and having food to eat.  So bring it.  Bring your good hearts; bring your prayers; bring your efforts.  Bring it to the table.  The children will meet you there.  And God will meet you there.    

Until next time, peace ...

Story Man and Humor Agent

Do you ever think about ... "The Other Children"?

"Other Children" . . . 

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Kiddos With Faces

"Being in foster care for me has been the best thing ever.  You see,  for those of you who have parents that are drug heads, alcoholics, abusive, or run out on or even, neglect you, being in foster care is good.  You see, you don't have to go through that anymore.  You are in a safe environment (*See note).  You have people that care about you, love you, accept you, clothe you, and are there for you."  

This quote from a young lady of 17,  fictitious name of "MeMe",  is found in the following link: 

http://www.ffta.org/publicpolicy_advocacy/personalizeadvocacy.pdf

*Reliable foster care that provides safety and meets needs for kiddos.  This is what this young lady is referring to.  Unfortunately, there are imposters, who claim to be safe places for children (foster homes, group homes, etc.), but in reality provide below-quality care.  In such places, the children are used for montetary profit as the only goal.  Fortunately there are good-hearted people who lay down their lives for the children, who need to be in a safe place, who have never known what it is like to be in a safe place.

*Photo copyrighted from Shutterstock.com

I am thankful for this's kiddo positive, life-giving, experience with foster care.
I am thankful, that I was able to walk with, and work with, two amazing group home parents ... second to none in skills, devotion, and wisdom ...  providing a home for children in the foster care system.  I am a far better man in this life as a result of working with them.

I am thankful for the children: heroic, resilient, creative, brilliant, good-hearted.  Sitting with these pre-adolescent / adolescent girls, annointed with elegance by the father, and young fellows (same ages) on the road to being a man, bringing with them profound wisdom, fortitude, and flexibility to withstand the storms of this world that attacks one's dignity, usurps one's giftings, and sabotages one's callings.

Their faces will never recede into insignificance.  Names may fade.  Detailed circumstances of their files may be difficult to recall.  But their faces, their stories, are transcendent.

I live with bittersweet gifts from these young warriors, wounded warriors, poetic warriors, who try to make sense of the madness and the safety they have experienced; or ... they do their best to forget such unjust and hurtful craziness.

There was jagged resistance, understandably; and laughter mixed with smiles.  Some children brought both, to the the table.  Regardless of what I brought to the table, these young people always brought something.

At times own deficits got in the way of what God was up to.  I try not to dwell on my own shortcomings.  This work, with at-risk youth and families, is not about me.

It's about the children, first.  Then the big picture emerges, the care the children need from us, (adults / providers / policy makers / parents / agencies / judges / lawyers / mentors / county DHS case workers / psychotherapists, and etc).  That is when we can become a part of their lives, with a profound importance that we embrace the privilege for those roles we play.  When we consider these children an inconvenience, we are not on our "A-Game", as one of my dear friend / colleagues would say from time to time.  

I will continue with the second half of this piece on the next blog.  

Until next time, peace ...

Story Man and Humor Agent

Snow Came Early, Reflecting

Snow came earlier today, and near the top of my agenda was the task of persuading my kids to step away from the computer games (at the library) and go peacefully with me, up to the house, more of a cottage, placed in the midst of evergreens and lodgepole pines and aspens at about 8800 feet.

Running late.  It's 4:01pm.  Never enough time at the library.  In heaven there will be an amazing library with big leather comfortable reading chairs with brass floor lamps and a small stand to put your coffee on.

I wrote about Downtown, recently, and the street sojourners who were once children.

I pondered the idea of being there, and here, for these kiddos ... making judgment calls on behalf of our kids, even though we may not know exacly what we are doing ... I considered that sometimes the questions are more important than the answers, and that if we do not know what the right question is that I am supposed to be asking then I need to answer as many questions as needed.

Well, I was just reviewing what I've thought about, and wrote about, up until now.  But I've got to get these kids home, and see what the options are for dinner.

Peace,

T

Out of Downtown, A Little More Going On

We were children.  Homeless crusaders were children who knew their parents and some didn't.  Some were raised by surrogate faces on the streets, taught about shelters and hustling for change; and survival, avoiding the police and the thugs.  The children learned about where to sleep, where to find food, and where not to go.

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Children raised by the system, kept in the system, aged out and discovered "freedom" to do and go, what and where, they wanted.  But children do not always know what they want.  The child sleeping at night with adults in a car or an abandoned building or a shelter does not always know ... what he / she wants.

The children, with parents consistently present, sleeping at night in their own bedroom in a $300,000 home in sophisticated suburbia do not always know what they want.  And we, as parents, who were once children, do not ... always ... know what is best for our children.  But, we are not off the hook to make judgment calls, advocating for our children, even though we are not totally sure what the right answer is.  We don't always know what the right questions are.  But we ask questions, even though we may not know the right question.

Out of Downtown, and suburbia, and out of our fears, and our pain, and the lies we believe, and the hope we embrace ... we have privilege and responsibility to advocate for our children.  We have questions to ask, answers to find; stories to tell and hear; and love to pour out; judgment calls to make; and wisdom to gain from other parents.  We all have something to bring to the table. So bring it.  Our children need us.

Okay, I'm out.  Peace
T / Story Man / Humor Agent

Out Of Downtown

*Photo copyrighted from Shutterstock.com

Out of Downtown. Memories flow, stories are birthed; and homeless saints are not named, not known, by too many folks.  Stories are told, some  old, some not, and they will continue.  The stories of street sojourners are some of the few treasures that will last a while.    

From the mouths of infants, children, adolescents, women, and men ... words are spoken, emotions stirred, thoughts triggered.  God speaks. Through unexpected words, from unexpected people, at unexpected times from unexpected places, God speaks.

At times I can see the homelessness in me: I'm just passing through.  But I've got story, and so do you.  Bring It To The Table.