Judgement Day

Yesterday was judgement day - the day that a judge would make a final ruling about our foster child, and where they will spend the rest of their life.

We waited throughout the morning, but our case wasn't called. I prayed that we wouldn't be the last case of the day. Well, God answered my prayer, and He proved his ironic sense of humor yet again - we were the second to last case. Thanks.

It was really difficult to sit still in the courtroom. We heard some cases with happy endings - children being reunified with parents - and some cases with sad ones - one teenager was removed from their home because of the court's findings. It was also hard to sit still because of those hard wooden benches - think old-fashioned 100-year-old cracked, creaky church pew benches. My foot kept falling asleep, then I'd switch positions and the other foot would fall asleep. I couldn't get comfortable.

Finally, our case was called. The judged read reports and listened to arguments from 3 different lawyers, 2 public defense attorneys, a child advocate (called "GAL" in our state) and a social worker. The biological family sat on one side of a long, hard wooden bench and we (Mike and I) sat on the other. I was pretty certain what the verdict would be, but wasn't sure how it would come about. After about 15 minutes of testimony, the judge declared "I will adopt motion number 3." We didn't know what that meant. Us laypeople were confused. Judge continued with a few more details, giving us, the foster parents, a 2-week notice. That's when I understood it.

The final verdict: guardianship with relatives.
We've got less than 2 weeks until she's out of our house forever.

I am sad for us, because it will be a great loss for our family. However, I know without a doubt that this is what is meant to be for baby girl, to grow up and live with part of her biological family.

I couldn't speak face-to-face with the relatives. I was too emotional in that moment. We walked out of the courtroom and went our separate ways. However, after I got home, I sent a message saying I was happy for them, and that I know they'll raise her well.

I can only trust it to be true.

So now I am left with the task of telling my children, who think of her as their baby sister, that she'll be gone in a few days. How do you prepare for this? What do you do with this kind of grief? It's not quite anything we've had to go through before (unless you count when we said goodbye the first time, last May. But that wasn't so final.). We've known that we won't keep her forever, but the reality of that is much more harsh than the abstract idea. "Forever" is not a concept that my kids easily understand. Right now they can touch, hug, and play with her. Next week, they can't.

There are 3 things I'd like to ask of you, if you are reading this:
1. Pray for our family, and baby girl, during this time of transition. Give us the right words to say to our children, to help them understand. They will be hurting. They will be sad and grieving. Help us guide them through this difficult time.

2. Pray also for her relatives, who are overjoyed right now. Pray that they will raise her well and rise to the challenge of their new responsibilities.

3. Consider how you can be invested in someone else's life. Everyone goes through hard times at one point or another.  All it takes is one person to make a difference. We cannot all do everything, but everyone is called to do something. Whether that is being a respite provider for foster parents, helping hand-out groceries at a local food pantry, rescuing stray animals, doing yard work for a neighbor, lobbying for stronger laws regarding human trafficking, packing shoeboxes in November through Samaritan's Purse, or going on a mission trip to an orphanage in a third-world country... I don't know what it looks like for you, but you should find out.

(And if you're already doing whatever it is: Thank You. Keep it up.)

If you are able to pray for us during this time, please leave a message below to let me know that you are doing so. I am going to need all the encouragement I can get to make it through the coming days without collapsing into an unrecognizable mess.

Thanks.

Ecclesiastes

This week, I am in a sad place. I spend the hours trying not to cry, holding it in, feeling numb, watching the clock move slowly, slowly, towards bedtime and quietness again. Then the quietness is deafening and lonely, Still, I relish the selfish chance I get during the night hours to be still; I revel in the moments when I have to care for no one but myself. Until the morning comes again, and my little human alarm clocks start the day for me all over.

Lately, I have been feeling like I'm living in the Bible book of Ecclesiastes: "Meaningless! Everything under the sun is useless." Is anything I do WORTH something to anyone else around here? Does it have eternal value, or a fleeting value? I've had quite a few disappointments this week. Sometimes it feels like I should have a nice pity party for myself. But I can't! I don't have the chance to take a shower, or eat food while it's still hot, or sit on the couch without being mobbed, much less process and grieve my losses.

I am in this sad place, but I know that my circumstances are not the end. My circumstances change daily or hourly or weekly. I know that we need to praise in the good times and the bad, not just when we feel like it. So I press on, and I cling to the hope of what is good and pure and right, and I continue to try to do the next thing that God has put before me.

Check back next time for a lesson on Ecclesiastes 5:4-5.

Saying "goodbye" is so hard

This week, I have been an emotional wreck. We were told that the baby won't be staying with us after all. The judge ordered baby to be reunified with family members. We have to give the baby back. It's going to be one of the hardest things I ever have to do. It was hard enough at 4 months old.... But to stay with us another 8-10 months, then do it all over again? It is going to be heartbreaking. It is going to crush the spirit of my oldest child. It might very well put us in counseling. I will question my role as a foster parent. What good have I done? What is the purpose of all this heartache and broken-ness?

Because we don't have an exact timeline, because the transition is supposed to be "gradual", this means it's probably going to be a drawn-out, confusing, emotionally draining process. Not just for me or my family, that goes for everyone involved. The other family will probably be an emotional mess too. Maybe in a good way. Maybe they will feel overwhelmed by their new responsibilities. Maybe they will be overwhelmed with love, and have a little bit of empathy for me, now that the tables are turned. Whenever and however this case ends, it will definitely mean a lot of waiting and wondering and uncertainty in the meantime.

As much as I don't want to say goodbye to this little person that is part of our family, I realize that it is best for the baby to be with relatives, if that is possible. I understand that they need to have a chance at raising the baby, that it is their right to do so. I know they love this baby a whole lot.

Even though I know these things to be true, it is still a crushing blow for our family. Is it fair? Is it really in the best interest of the child to take her away from the only stable home she's ever known?! Who was there for all the sleepless nights? Who was there for all the milestones, first roll over, first foods, first crawl, first word, first birthday, first steps? ME! But who will the baby remember? Not me!! Not us! And that kills me inside. I know that it is our job as foster parent to let them grow and then let them go. I keep telling my kids that fostering means "for a little while". And even if you are lead to believe adoption is the end goal, it doesn't mean that's how it really ends.

However, there is hope. God has promised that his plans are better than ours (think Jeremiah 29:11, Proverbs 16:9, and Isaiah 55:8). If there's one thing I've learned in my life, it would be that the dreams and plans I have for myself aren't necessarily what God has in mind for me and my life. And sadness aside, I know that there is some good news on the horizon... I'm just not authorized to share it with you quite yet.

In the meantime, if you call or email or leave me a message and I don't answer, it's not because I don't want to talk to you. It's because I can't talk for very long without getting tears in my eyes. Right now it's hard to visualize what our daily lives will be like in a few weeks or a few months. I have to learn how to un-attach myself from this little person who is, for all intents and purposes, my baby! I'm trying to hold it together, moment by moment, and get through the day with all of my children, without upsetting them too much. (Of course the children don't know all the plans, logistics and legal details, and they shouldn't.)

So for now, I am trying to enjoy these days as much as I can, not clutter them too much with commitments, and I am not sharing them very often with others. I hope that makes sense. Maybe next month or next year, my friends will understand and forgive me :)

tough love

This morning we said goodbye to our first foster placement.
The baby left our home, but she will never leave our hearts.
It is bittersweet... For us, we most likely won't see ever the baby again. For the baby, she gets to be reunited with family members. I don't know anything about these relatives, but I know that they've been thoroughly checked out and that the baby won't be placed in a situation that seemed dangerous, neglectful, or unsafe.

I have to trust that she will be safe and happy with them.

As author Kathy Harrison put it, I am "being forced to imagine the end." Because of confidentiality laws and privacy issues and such, we are not allowed to have contact with the biological family. We won't know when she learns to walk or hear her first words. She will not remember us.

It's amazing how quickly you can bond with someone, even though you know they aren't your child. We knew we weren't playing for keeps. But now that she is no longer with us, I am really feeling that loss.

The kids are sad. The preschoolers know the baby had to go back to her family. but it's difficult for them to process and put into words what they're feeling. The oldest is 9, and acting out horribly. She's definitely not herself right now. I completely gave up on trying to get any schoolwork done today (another plus for homeschooling - "mental health days" are allowed sometimes).

It's strange - this kind of loss is beyond my scope of experience up until now. It's not something that many other people can relate to. It's not the same as a pregnancy loss. I didn't have a miscarriage or suffer the death of a child. There was no tragedy or accident. There was even some forewarning. But it is still a loss. We are grieving because we love that baby, but she is not ours. We can't keep her, even if we wanted to. We can be her for-a-little-while family, but we can't be her forever family.

There's an empty place now. (It's true that there was an empty place before - there's been an empty bedroom here for 12 months, but this time the emptyness has a name and a face.) No more infant carseat to lug around, no more diaper bag to carry, no more buying formula or cleaning those darn bottles.

I took one last picture of the baby before she left, and in it, she is smiling as big as she possibly can.

That is what I want to hold onto and remember.

The bumper sticker

Halfway home from church today, I noticed the car in front of me had a few bumper stickers on it. There was a small sticker that had an immeasurable impact. It had the image of a baby's profile, and it said something like "Abortion stops my heart from beating."

I saw the image, read those words, and it triggered something in me.  The blood drained from my face. I went into a kind of cold shock.  I was fighting back tears the rest of the way home. I bit my lip so hard (so that the kids wouldn't hear me crying or ask any questions; I couldn't have handled that) that I tasted blood.

You've probably seen a similar sticker on someone's vehicle, and you're probably wondering: Why did a seemingly common bumper sticker affect me in this way? Because it was personal. A little more than two years ago, someone close to me made the choice to abort a baby. It was a selfish choice, but a costly one, and one that was made of her own free will. She didn't share this with me until almost a year later. I suspect that she was sad and ashamed, but she never expressed that to me. She acted as if pregnancy was a huge, life-changing inconvenience (I agree, it can be). She told me she felt that it was her only option.

The truth is, abortion is never the only option. That baby could have been adopted. He or she would have lived and thrived if given the chance at life. If I had known the circumstances, I would have lovingly and gladly taken the baby and raised it as my own (would have been a few months older than Noah.) But prenatal children are not able to make choices for themselves. They are at the mercy of God and their parent(s). They can feel, they can see and hear, touch, taste, and smell, but they cannot chose to be carried to term. They can't object when someone chooses to abruptly end their own life.

It makes me so very sad, that there are so many babies who are unable to take their first breath, because someone made the choice to end their life prematurely.

Sick and sad.

Mike told me about this news story early this morning when he got home from work. He fortunately did not have to respond to it, but he said when the call came in last night, he couldnt sleep at all after that. I dont blame him. I have been thinking about that family all day. The oldest child was the one who got away and was able to call for help and get the neighbor, a nurse, to come to the house. This particular neighborhood is only a few miles from us, and I know several families who live there. It is really disturbing.

I cannot fathom how a parent could kill their child with their own bare hands.

______________________________________________________________________________________


In other news, I am still sick with a bad cold that has turned into a hacking cough and isnt getting better. This has been going on for 5 days now. Ive been to 2 different doctors this week and theyve both told me its just a virus, there's nothing they can do for me. There's not much medication I can take while pregnant.

Something unusual happened on the way to Walmart...

Something unusual happened on the way to Walmart this morning.

I thought I would be "smart" and take the back roads to get there instead of the highway. We got about a mile from home when I noticed a police motorcycle rushing past, with all of his lights flashing. He held up traffic for a minute or two, but there were too many cars ahead, so I couldn't see what was in front of us. We keep heading to Walmart... At the next intersection, he again held up traffic. Was he going to an emergency call? Was there an accident up ahead that I couldn't see?

As I got closer to the police motorcycle, I saw other cars with their hazard lights flashing. That's when I realized what was going on. We had gotten caught up at the end of a funeral procession. Just seeing that line of cars made me want to cry. When I realized what was happening in front of us, I immediately turned off the radio, closed up the car windows. Our car went from happy-go-lucky to solemn silence in 4 seconds flat. I didnt say anything, but the kids were very quiet in the backseat; maybe they sensed something?

I had no idea who's life was being honored on this Tuesday morning in April, but I stopped to say a prayer for that person and the loved ones they had left behind. It felt as if God was telling me "Pray for their souls." I thought this was slightly weird, but I did it anyway. Who am I to argue with God?! :)

Then Hannah and I had an interesting little conversation about what happens when you die and the things that people do to remember you and honor your memory.
"Like when Amber died. That was so sad", she said.
Yes Hannah, it really was.

Remembering Amber Grace

We miss you, sweet baby.

Today, our little friend Amber would be celebrating her first birthday. She would eat cake & ice cream for the first time. She would be learning to take her first steps. She would clap her hands, laugh, and rip pretty paper and bows off of gifts.

Instead, this day is marked with sadness. Her parents will be trying to get through the day with empty arms and aching hearts. Rather than getting Amber a birthday present, all I can do is leave flowers on her grave, and say a prayer for her and her family.

Amber Grace was only 4 1/2 months old when she went to heaven. She went peacefully, in her sleep. Such a tragedy, what a terrible, terrible loss. We cannot understand why God chose to take her home so soon, but we can choose to accept it.

She is deeply missed by her parents, Kristie and Cory, her big sister Samantha, her grandparents, and many friends and relatives. We take comfort in the fact that she is now living with Jesus.

You live on in our hearts, dear one.
We remember you every day.

Amber Grace Rasmussen

Born January 17th 2009 ~ Reborn June 6th 2009

Poor sad little Hannah.

Hannah is currently crying herself to sleep.
Actually, it's more like SCREAMING herself to sleep, and I'm afraid that she will wake up Aliah during the process.
I know she's had an exhausting day, but apparently she has reached the no-holds-barred, break-down melting point. During our bedtime routine, while I was helping her brush her teeth, she thrashed and bit and kicked so much that her gums started to bleed! I had to physically restrain her from throwing herself against the ground and banging her head up against the wall. Then I restrained her again when she repeatedly crawled out of bed, still screaming, with tears running down her shirt.
None of us has been getting enough sleep this week, Mike included, which only adds to our misery. Maybe tonight we'll all finally sleep more than a couple hours at a time!

Baby Amber

DURHAM - Baby Amber Grace Rasmussen, entrusted to the loving care of her parents, Kristen Hontz Rasmussen and Corey Drew Rasmussen on January 17, 2009, returned home unexpectedly to her Savior, Jesus Christ, on June 6, 2009.

In addition to her parents, baby Amber's family includes her sister, Samantha Kate Rasmussen; maternal grandparents, Duane and Diana Hontz of Newtown Square, Pa.; paternal grandparents, Kenneth and Mary Rasmussen of Cypress, Calif.; and many aunts, uncles, and cousins. We anticipate with great joy our reunion with her for eternity.

The celebration of Amber's life will take place on Saturday, June 13 at 10 a.m. at The Summit Church, Cole Mill Road Campus, where the family attends. Dr. J.D. Greear and Pastor Will Roberts will be officiating. Interment will follow at Maplewood Cemetery.

Clements Funeral Service, Inc. in Durham is assisting the Rasmussen family.