Unexpected Visitors

"Hello?"

"Hi.  I'm calling from the Department of Children and Family Services.  We have a child who has been taken into protective custody and is in need of a foster home.  Would you be interested?"

Whenever I receive a phone call from a social worker, asking me if I can take a child into my home, I usually have a general idea of what I am getting myself into.  I am given the child’s age, gender, brief background and family information, and any known problems or challenges.  I know that I will host these little visitors who will have needs that I will try to meet, who will stay temporarily, and then will leave to continue their journey with someone else.  I anticipate welcoming them into my home for as long as necessary.

However, there have been a few visitors along the way who have entered my home by surprise.  During the monotonous routines of daily life while battling the weariness of attending to the many needs of my fluctuating family, these visitors have suddenly come knocking at my door asking me to let them in.  The names of my unexpected visitors?  Resentment and Doubt.

The Wild Ride

I am a twin.  My twin sister gave birth to twins, as did my cousin, my grandmother, and great-aunt.  It’s pretty evident that twins are an inherited trait in my family.  It is providential, therefore, that even though I am biologically unable to pass along the family genetics, I have been able to experience the joys of being a mother to twins.  It didn’t just happen by accident, though, nor even by my own calculated efforts.  As only God can do, He had been preparing my husband and me to be parents, placing us in just the right place at exactly the right time, and interconnecting plenty of isolated incidents in order to miraculously deliver twins into our family.

The Story

Since the beginning of time, people have been intrigued by a great story.   An attention-grabbing opening scene, an interesting cast of characters, a lively plot full of action with a little bit of suspense mixed in, and of course a happy ending.  And since the creation of the first man and woman, everyone has been given his own story.  Some people’s stories may be shorter or longer than others, some are more adventurous, and some are filled with more joy or tragedy, but everyone’s story is uniquely his.  Unfortunately, for many foster children, their story seems somewhat incomplete, with pages or even whole chapters missing. 

The Boy Within

“I want to kill you!”  The irate teenage boy is screaming into his younger sister’s face, his heart full of rage and his mouth full of threats.   I observe with horror the volatile scenario in my own living room, hoping against hope that the words don’t escalate into a physical altercation!

I have mere moments to draw upon all of my parenting experience, to frantically pray for God’s wisdom in this situation, and to decide on the best way to respond.  Should I do nothing and just hope that everything dies down on its own?  Should I calmly remind him of the proper way to express his anger?  Should I thank him for verbalizing how he feels, instead of actually acting on his emotions?  Should I demand that he go to his room until he calms down enough to apologize for his outburst?  Who is this stranger standing in my living room, and why, oh why, did God think that I could possibly be qualified to be his mother?

And how did this young man become so troubled and full of hate, anyway?  What painful experiences has he faced during his short time of earth that would cause him to lash out at those around him?  Sometimes I feel like a detective, piecing together the few clues that are available in an effort to understand the whole picture.