It’s 1993, I am watching Full House on a beach towel in the living room as I eat Macaroni. I have lived my first 8 years of life in a fast-growing, family-orientated suburban town. I go to church every Sunday, and AWANAS every Wednesday. I know my Bible verses, I know my books of the Bible, and if we are handing out credit where it’s due- I also know my fifty states plus their capitals. After all, I am a teacher’s kid, and my dad is a military police officer. Structure is not lacking in my childhood home. No one has ever shown me anything different and many friends are living similar lives. This is my normal. With limited life experience, I assume all kids live like this, like me. I assume all kids live in controlled environments, where moms make their kids brush teeth, study, pack a lunch, eat veggies, and drink enough water. I assume all kids are tucked in at night, sung to, and dolled up before church on Sunday morning. This is just how life is.

The commercials are over and Full House returns. In this episode, Charlie, a classmate of Stephanie’s comes to school with a black eye. She dislikes this kid. He is a bully who is mean to her. After talking with him, he reveals the injury is caused by his father. His dad began hitting him after his mom left. She no longer hates Charlie but is worried about him. Stephanie confides in Uncle Jessie, who in turn calls DHS. The next day, he is not at school. A week later, he has still not returned. Uncle Jessie explains to Stephanie how Charlie went into foster care until his dad can get help or until he can find a new home to adopt him.

I remember this day vividly. My heart broke. It was the day the paradigm around me shifted. While this show is fictional, I learned that foster care was real. Kids being hurt/neglected by their parents was real. There were real children who are living this reality, not in some other country, but here.

They were in the USA, in my state, in my community, in my school.

Foster care had never been a regular topic of conversation. I had so many questions and no one around me really knew the answers: Where were Charlie’s grandparents? Where was Charlie’s aunts or uncles? Why didn’t anyone say something or help him? Who was it helping the voiceless kids? The kids like Charlie?

I decided then that I would adopt “Charlie.” Maybe not this Charlie, because I am only nine years old, but I can adopt a boy like him. A boy who needs a family. Over the next decade until I was an adult, I prayed for these boys: the ones not being loved, the boys that fall through the cracks, the ones who end up in this place called “foster care.” Honestly, that sounded to me like a terrible place to be.

As an adult, I broke up with many young men who weren’t open to adopting. For most, it seemed to freak them out, which is understandable for most teenage boys. Being open to adoption was in my top ten deal breakers. I wanted four boys and knew one would be adopted. I also knew God had a man who would be open to this without encouragement. This was always in my plan. I never knew how the birth order would fall. I just knew I wanted to adopt. I met my husband at 18 and when asked if he was open to adopting, he quickly replied with, “Absolutely. Growing up, I was Charlie.”

By 2010, we had a 4 yr old boy and began the adoption process. God firmly shut the door. We prayed and God said, “not yet.” A few years go by and we had another baby. We began the adoption process again in 2014. A week later, we found out we were pregnant. We took a step back. Again, door shut.

We prayed again and God said, “not yet.”

I don’t really like being told no, so I took this as a sign we needed to be praying differently.

We got very specific, “Lord, if this is your will, open the doors, let it all roll out smoothly, give us peace and discernment where we need it, show up BIG. And if adoption is not your will, please for the love of all that is holy, remove this desire from my heart. I can no longer carry this desire and Your ‘no’ together. I trust you. Lead us boldly or please lead this desire elsewhere.”

Over the next week, He showed up again, again, and again through so many ways saying, “yes, but not quite yet.” We learned patience and trust.

Then, some more patience.

In Jan of 2018, we felt it was time and sent in our application for the third time knowing however this played out was best for all. I had a different peace this time. The application process went smoothly like a well-oiled machine, and we were completely paperwork + home study ready in less than three months. (This is unusually fast compared to the average.)

As we were filling out paperwork, the topic of age came up. What ages are we willing to accept? In the beginning, it was important that our oldest remain the oldest. As time had passed, our age range was also rising. Instead of 6-9yr old, we wrote down ages 8-11yr old.

Throughout our adoption preparation, my oldest and I would talk about our adoption often. He would ask questions, and we would pray. When our oldest was around 5, he began to refer to our future adopted son as “brother.” It made it easier on all of us when we spoke about him. We talked and prayed for “brother” for years.

One night when he was around 11, after everyone had gone to bed, my oldest and I are sitting around the fire when he said:

“Mom, are we ever going to really adopt ‘brother’? We always talk about it but never actually happens.”

I answered with the assumption that he was being selfish or impatient:

“I know bud, it is hard for us to wait. But this isn’t about us. This is about brother and God’s timing will be best for brother.”

My oldest replied with words that shook me to my core. I realized he did very much “get it.” He wasn’t being selfish, he was really thinking about brother when he replied:

“I know mom, but what if he is being hurt right now because he hasn’t been adopted yet?”

My heart broke again. My babe does get it and he is right. We decided we would also start to pray for his foster parents. This was all we knew how to do as we waited for the right time to present itself.

Over the next six months, we read countless files, looked at thousands of profiles and eventually met our 11 yr old son. Our adoption was finalized in May of 2019.

When our son moved in, he began to talk about his foster care experiences with us. These stories are not mine to share, but I can tell you that one foster mom’s name was spoken a bit differently. His face seemed to soften when he spoke of her, his eyes lit up when we’d talk about his memories in her home. He was with her the longest, but it wasn’t time that made the difference. I knew she deeply cared about him. I knew it without ever meeting her, simply by how he spoke of her. It was obvious she loved him. I found myself so thankful.

“She knew she would lose him and she loved him anyway.”

Now, two years later, this past weekend, we had the opportunity to meet her and hug her neck. What started as a quick opportunity to maintain a positive connection, soon began to reveal its significance in my heart. This woman not only met physical needs, she cared for my son with her whole heart when he wasn’t even hers. She knew she would lose him and she loved him anyway. She knew fostering would be the hardest thing she has ever done, and she said yes anyway. She knew she was planting seeds she may never see grow, and she planted them anyway. I am simply so incredibly thankful.

Parenting trauma is not for the faint of heart. It requires us meeting ourselves on the darkest, deepest, most isolating level. Yet, she signed up anyway, loved him anyway. She supported him knowing each day together strengthened a bond that would hurt more when it inevitably broke. She intentionally placed herself in the direct path of emotional pain to temporarily remove it from a child, from my child.

While we were praying for “brother,” she was there alongside him, standing in the gap. She signed up for loss to create hope for his future.

My tears are rolling. What on God’s green Earth do I say to a woman who gave my son a safe place to lay his heart before he made it home? How do I express my gratitude for such selflessness?

I still don’t know. I just sat with her in the rain like a blubbering mess and tried to mumble something about being thankful for the gift she gave my son. I stared into the eyes of this ordinary person who chose to use her heart and gifts in an extraordinary way. I just kept saying thank you through tears, yet it never seemed enough.

Over the past two years, so many people have referred to our adoption story with words like: positive, successful, sweet. Other well intending women like to compliment us for “doing a good job” and it stings every time because we are undeserving. The truth is that our success within adoption has a LOT to do with the people around us: the teachers who met attitude with love, our friends who saw beyond behaviors and into his heart, principals who discipled through connection instead of punishment, young peers who chose understanding instead of defense, family who joyfully added a chair to their table, counselors who encouraged us and gave us tools for healing, coaches who saw past ego and invested into his soul, youth ministers who befriended him “as is” while highlighting his goodness, friends who were patient as we navigated drastic change in our home, humans in general who chose grace over judgement. And one foster mom who walked into the fire, knowing she’d come out burned with loss.

Words are unable to touch the magnitude of appreciation I have for this woman. We cried and hugged and cried and hugged.

The men and women who sign up to foster children on their journey back home, whether bio or adoption, are the unrecognized glue in so many success stories. From one adoptive momma to foster mommas,

I see you.

Thank you.

***An important note about adoption in the Oklahoma Foster System****

The most common goal of a child being in care is for them to be reunified back with their parents. Unfortunately, reunification is realized in only about 50% of the cases.  In many of these situations, adoption is the next hopeful outcome for a child to have a safe, loving, and stable home.   The majority of adoptions occur with family or friends that knew the child before they entered state care.  Often, it is the foster parents that have grown to love a child who adopt.  Currently, through OKDHS, families interested in adoption need to be open to the following criteria: individual children over the age of 13, children who are a part of a sibling set, or children who have higher physical or emotional needs.  111project would be honored to help coach and connect you to some available next steps around adoption.