Brave Face

Once again, the judge has chosen to leave Mya in her birth mother's home.  CYS is still involved so there is still the possibility she could return to us.  It's difficult but in reality I struggle with her being gone everyday so today is really not so special.  Even when it hurts I just put on my brave face and try to pretend that everything is okay.  Perhaps I'm fooling other people but I think I'm really trying to fool myself.

Rollercoaster

I just received a call from our caseworker saying that Mya's hearing is this morning.  She could be back with us by this evening.  Please remember our family in your prayers today.

How do we as foster parents endure this rollercoaster of emotions?   I think it's because that same heart, that aches within each of us, tells us we must.

Why Can't We Be Friends?

I love this video!  It made me cry...it took me back to the struggle we had with CYS after Mya had been with us almost 6 months.  They tried to take her out of our home so that she could live in a more "ethnic" neighborhood.  I was devastated!  How could they think that taking her away from the family she loved and felt safe with was the best thing for her?  Our first thought was, "What can we do?  We have no rights yet as foster parents."  I felt like David fighting Goliath...how could we win and protect Mya from losing more people who loved her?  Well, I will just say that I did do something.  In fact, I did everything I possibly could to keep Mya in our home.  (Anyone who would like to know details can email me.)  The day before Mya was supposed to go to the new home, the judge court-ordered Mya to stay in our home.  David had slayed Goliath once again.

Why does this world insist on categorizing us by the way we look, speak or where we come from?  Why do we think that because someone looks differently from us that we don't belong together or that we don't feel the same?  Having said this, when our family looked at Mya, we didn't pretend that she looked the same as us.  We acknowledged that she had different colored hair, eyes and skin from us just like we acknowledged and celebrated the many other differences that make up who we are.  We didn't love her "even though" she was an African American/Mexican/Irish/German girl but because she was all those things and so much more.  She loved to sing and dance...to play...to laugh...and she gave the best hugs and kisses!

I learned so much from Mya.  It doesn't matter what neighborhood we grow up in, what color our skin is, what clothes we wear or how we speak.  It is how we feel and how we love that connects us.

Life Goes On...

With each passing day I find the most difficult part of Mya leaving is the lack of closure.  She was asleep when we left her in her new home and I don't feel like we were able to really explain things to her so she could understand.  Even now I still hope and wonder if she will come back home to us.  At what point do I move on, not just physically, but emotionally.

I keep myself busy.  The kids have baseball, volleyball, track and church activities.  I've even taken up canning and we're planning a garden for this summer.  Soon it will be time to open the pool, mow the lawn and plant flowers.  My life continues as if Mya were never a part of it.  But my mind pushes out thoughts of her and my heart aches reminding me that she was and is a part of my life.