How to Heal a Fractured Family

How to Heal a Fractured Family

How to Heal a Fractured Family

How to Heal a Fractured Family. The short, simple answer is to trust in Jesus. Yet, sometimes, that is hard for me. Our family has been fractured for a long time. There have been cracks here and there, but this year, it is different. I’m not going to lie; it has been a struggle. Since 2014, but even before then, due to some extenuating circumstances. I don’t want to discourage anyone from adoption, but there is so much more I know now than I did almost 14 years ago.

What You Need to Know

When people are in the process of adopting a child or children, it is an exciting thing. We do all the things that are required. You have to do background checks, have money in the bank, fundraisers, fingerprints (if international), and so on. We work hard on those dossiers. Our homes are spotless for our home study. We eagerly anticipate our referral or a picture. There are so many support groups where we talk about our discouragement of NOT getting a referral quickly enough.

What We DON’T Realize

Is that we are waiting for a family to fail in some way. If it is foster care, we are waiting for a family to abuse, neglect, or hurt a child or children so they will be placed in the system. Then we jump through all the hoops. For the next 17 out of 23 mths, we will wait for the termination of parental rights.

Or, if it is a newborn, we are waiting for a sweet birth mom to make the most difficult decision of her life. Her life will be altered forever by choosing the blessing of adoption. If international, we are waiting for a birth parent who may be dying, the child is starving, or some other tragedy that places them in an orphanage.

When you adopt a family member’s child, you are waiting for drugs, alcohol, abuse, neglect, or abandonment. There are other circumstances, too, but that was my circumstance for my son. You start looking at YOUR sister and think…she is my son’s aunt? Grandmother? Both?

The Dark Side

We are walking into the blackest chapter of our children’s lives. Our greatest joy as an adoptive family and what we worked so hard towards will come at our children’s most tremendous loss. Whether an infant or an older child, that loss will forever be embedded in their brain and heart. They are the only ones who have heard their mother’s heartbeat from the inside out, and your heart is not the same.

My heart aches because, in a perfect world, my kids would still be with their birth families. Succeeding, thriving, living, loving, and yet because of certain things, they are not there. They are with me. I am grateful. Indebted. I am forever changed because they grew in my heart, not under it!

They will always wonder what it would have been like if they had stayed with their nuclear family. They have been raised by their birth parents or in their birth country. Try explaining all of the things when they are older. It’s super fun, aka traumatic.

Getting It Straight

I do not regret any of my children. None of them. They are my joy, and I’m so thankful to God that He wove my family together beautifully and intricately.


Trauma is an awful thing. Plain and simple. Talk to ANY adoptive parents, and they will tell you the same thing. Trauma can come in all shapes and sizes. It can come with a list of diagnoses, and then there is “traumaversary” That leads to sabotage of all good things, behavior issues, confabulations, deceit, manipulation, and so much more.

My Family is No Different

We have, and continue to have, all of the above things and the “so much more” times a million. What started as one child exhibiting out-of-control behaviors due to FASD, PTSD, RAD, blah blah blah trickled down to other children. Another child was exhibiting similar yet different behaviors. Then, a third child goes above and beyond. Lastly, the fourth child struggles with anxiety and more.

It has wreaked havoc on my person. My husband, other children, and even my pets will lose hair when life is escalated in my home. Sadly, this usually occurs November-March and then in July-October; as I look at that typed out, it is from October-July. That gives us two mths trauma-free.

All the Things We Have Tried

We have done the things. Doctors, specialists, therapists, counselors, pastors, family, medication, no routines, homeschool, private, public; All. The. Things. One child, nothing has worked for that child. Another child, we hope, is in the process of healing. The third child is excited right now. The fourth child, we deal with it day by day.

I am exhausted. My husband is tired. Honestly, even the kids are tired. Mix all this crap with a pandemic and being in this house, and you have Funville. My underwear drawer no longer holds underwear. It is stocked FULL of candy. I wake up, in the morning, with a bag of snickers under my arm and wrappers everywhere.

There is a newfound love of Limeade Slushes. My teeth are going to rot out of my head. I have become a human GPS because I take LONG drives on roads I have never heard of or driven. My favorite pastime is driving to my neighbors and seeing if their pig is in the front yard. I cry; a lot.

Falling Apart

Sadly, I feel like my family is falling apart. That Scripture of satan lurking around the corner to devour my family is happening! Honestly, at warp speed. I have so many words. So much has happened that my fingers will not move as fast as my brain.

I am praying that this pandemic ends. I am praying for healing for my medically fragile children. Salvation for two of my kids. Wisdom with all of them. Healthy delivery for one (going to be a granny!) A healthy relationship for two kids. School to open for one. One to come home safely. Another is to stop making REALLY poor and dangerous choices.

I want my family to heal and to be whole. I want God to intervene and DO SOMETHING. Honestly, I am just ready for Jesus to come riding down on His white horse and take us all home. Home, where there is no sadness, no darkness, or pain. Just glory.

God is Bigger

I have to trust in that. Right. Yes, trust. The hardest thing for me to do is trust Him with my family. Maybe that, alone, needs to be my prayer. Lord, let me trust that You have plans to prosper and not harm my family. Help me realize that You and only You can heal the fractures.



Our Story of Falling in Love and Adoption

 Our Story of Falling in Love and AdoptionOur Story of Falling in Love and Adoption

 My husband and I met in the spring of 1993. We quickly fell for each other. I remember walking into the game room, where we both worked, one evening before school started. People lined up at the counter, and I saw this man, in these faded blue jeans, with this butt that made my heart pitter-patter. He was tall and had eyes that were the color of the sky. He had a hat on, so I did not know what color his hair was, and I noticed his bottom lip all stuck out because he was chewing tobacco. I fell in love, and I did not even know his name. Swoon.

The Kid Question

 At any rate, that is the year we met. We were engaged by the fall of that same year and married in June 1994. When we talked about our life, I asked him how many children he wanted. He stated that he wanted one, maybe two. I said that I wanted four. I also told him my desire to adopt, and he was NOT for that. He felt he could not love a child he did not see grow in me. I decided that I would let God deal with him on that, and I would stay out of it.

Life Now

 Fast forward 22 years later, and we did not have one, two, or four kids. We were blessed with six children. There are three children who were born “under the heart” and three children who were adopted. We have adopted from our local foster care system, and to add the icing on the cake of our family, we adopted from Africa. All of our children were “older” child adoptions. The Lord profoundly changed his heart.


 There was a day, back in October 2015, when I was in the bathroom, and I was thinking to myself (and yes, I speak to myself, and I answer myself). The prayer that was lifted that day was one of thanksgiving. My heart has always yearned for my children, but we could not have any more biologically. We could not from our local foster care system because our home was deemed “full,” and we could not adopt internationally because of finances. 

We had had two separate opportunities to adopt privately, but the birthmothers made other choices, and now those babies are with Jesus. There was nothing more to do. My quiver was full. We had six kids. Our oldest was in college, our second was finishing up her high school year, sprinkled in some behaviorally challenged kids and a hard-of-hearing kid, oh, and homeschooling them all, and our life was complete.

God Laughs

 While I was in that bathroom that day, I uttered these words “Lord, I finally am content. I’m content with myself, my life, and my family size. Thank you for finally giving me that peace about being finished bringing children into our home.” I can imagine God, upon His heavenly throne, chuckling at my “contentment.” He was fixing to throw me a curveball the size of Montana. Almost immediately after my revelation, the phone rang. It was my oldest sister, Kim. 

I was surprised at her phone call on a Saturday morning, and instead of saying hello, I asked her what was wrong. She was panicked and straightforward. They were out of town and there was an emergency with two of her grandchildren. She requested me to get to where they were and keep them until she and Joseph came home. 

Well, she did not have to ask me twice. My husband and I loaded up our kids and drove separately to have enough room for everyone. We got to where the children were, and there they stood, amongst complete chaos and sadness.

Damage Control

 I plastered on my “it is going to be okay” face and whisked them off to Bob Evans to eat. They were filthy and hungry. We made our way to the bathroom, and I cleaned up their precious little faces. We sat to eat, and boy, did they eat. The rest of the weekend was much like my very own three-ring circus. There was damage control, lots of hugs and kisses, snacks, movies, rocking, and soothing their weary little souls. 

We made it to church without any incident on that Sunday. My sister came back into town that afternoon to pick up the beauties. Their world was fixing to shake, and they needed that solid foundation of my sister and Joseph. Oh, do they love those kids? Gracious.


After they left, I looked around at the carnage of the house. There were toys strung from here to high heaven. Clothes, barbies, shoes, Polly pockets, animals, trains. Anything and everything we could find made an appearance, and it spread throughout my living room. 

There were half-eaten sandwiches, purses, and stickers galore. I plopped down on the couch with a sense of accomplishment. We all survived. I was pleased I could help in this challenging time, but I was so glad my sister took over.

At It Again

Again, contentment, pleased with feelings of peace. Again, God laughed. Furthermore, He rocked our world. Only a few weeks later, our family changed. Remember Bart wanted one or two, and I wanted four? Then we ended up with three biological kids, then five, then six, and then done? 


We added our seventh child, 21 months (let that soak in for a moment. I had not had a toddler in 9 years, and I am over 40 people!), sashayed into our home. He had beautiful curls with these green eyes. He was nonverbal and loud. Holy moly, he was loud. We took in my sister’s other grandson, her youngest grandbaby. 

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Experiences with WONDERFUL Social Workers

Experiences with WONDERFUL Social Workers

Our Worker

This is our Experiences with WONDERFUL Social Workers. I cannot rave enough about Carla. She was gentle, thorough, and kind from the beginning to the end when we closed our home. Even afterward, I have been known to call her about things, and she is still just as impressive.

This woman has a gift. I’m so thankful to her for her help, wisdom, and love in getting us through that horrible experience. Then, she was so gentle when we moved into our next (and last) placement.


Placement #2 Social Worker

We accepted another placement in March of the following year. Honestly, we were apprehensive and very guarded. I feel, at times, I did my kids an injustice because I lived in fear of them leaving at any moment.

The kids’ social worker was phenomenal to work with on their case. When she called us about this placement, she laid it all (well, what she knew) on the table. She made no demands of us, no “contact me daily with updates or else” type of things. Every time there was a court date, I knew about it and attended. Rarely did I ever have to testify, but when I did, she thoroughly prepared me.

We walked in as a united front against their perpetrator. We cried with the birth mom as she lost custody. She listened to me cry when I had had enough of her behaviors and didn’t know what to do. She heard and encouraged.

Again, I’m in awe of her amazingness. Now her supervisor was a piece of work, but you can’t control the stupidity of others.


Our mandatory classes were taught by a professor of social work from Murray State. She was precious. I’m not going to lie, it was like watching paint dry taking these classes, BUT she always brought candy.

I think the only time I struggled was not with her but with the content of the class. We took our regular PS-Mapp classes, Care Plus classes, and Sexual Abuse classes. The first set was boring. The second set was eye-opening. She just brought me chocolate in the third set and told me to eat my feelings. It was tough. For everyone, us, other couples, and Gail. Just a tough subject.

She was so accommodating to my husband’s work schedule. She went above and beyond to help us even though he could not be “in” the classroom. Gail worked with him one-on-one, and that sacrifice is one that I appreciate.


I have so many friends in this field. Some work in schools, some in offices, and some in counseling. All of the people I know are phenomenal at their jobs. It is easy to hyperfocus on the failing system and the workers who don’t care. Yet, there are ones that do care and work so hard.

The foster care system is a very flawed system from the beginning to the end process. It is easy to come in, do a job (poorly or selfishly), and go home. The people I know tell me it is NOT easy, they work hard, and their hard work is affected by their supervisors, judges, or the court, and they don’t leave their job at work. They always bring it home and sit with it.

Do you know how hard it is to “sit with” such trauma, abuse, and neglect? I can’t imagine, but I know how hard it is. Whether they work with children, adults, or the elderly is hard.

Investigative Workers

Now, that is a crap job. I know of one investigative worker like the person I documented yesterday. She needs to be fired because she is not in this for the good of the children, their parents, or the foster parents. She saw the bullshit, ignored it because she was all about numbers and removal, and ran with it. Destroying lives as she went.

However, I know 3 and 1 investigative officer. The officer I adore. He and his family are why kids begin to feel safe and loved. Another one is one that was so gentle and kind when her services were needed. So thorough. I’m so sad that she moved on to another position.

Then there are two that I wanted to dislike. Yet, I didn’t. See, some good investigative reporters can see through the smoke of false reporting. They do their job, they are thorough, but they see through the bullshit.

They made it easy to talk to, be honest with, ask questions, and help with resources. When they walk into a place, they know these are good people in extraordinary circumstances. Again, they see the false reporting, and after the first report, the reporter is documented! They SEE the lies and will not stand to see a good family drug through the mud.


We have had more good than bad experiences being involved in the system for 15 years. I’m so thankful for the good ones. Kids, adults, and the elderly deserve a voice that speaks clearly for them. Those accused deserve to be heard as well. Those investigators also need to sort through the false and factual claims to preserve the family unit.

In court, it is pounded in your head that reunification (if a child is removed) is always number 1. The courts want the nuclear family to remain intact. They want to see the birth family succeed, get help, ask for help, heal, and so forth. That is when the case is substantiated.

Then there are the cases that are false, and a good worker sees that. They do their jobs gently and with class. Yet, they know the truth. There are “revenge” calls where a person seeks revenge on a family. There are the “well-meaning” calls where they think something is going on but don’t know for sure. Then there are the downright lying ones. Lastly, there are real calls, and someone needs to step in and intervene. Good investigative social workers can distinguish between them all.

Thank a social worker today, a counselor, or an investigator; pray for them, their safety, and wisdom. Pray that the system begins to work and children who need help are also helped—those who falsely accuse answers of their choices.

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Adoption, Faith Journey

It is Time to Let Go and be Free

  1. It is Time to Let Go and be Free

It is Time to Let Go and be Free

What a phrase that is. Val Kilmer typed that to Tom Cruise in the new movie Maverick. I have been praying a lot. Primarily for clarity in a few situations that are ongoing in our family. God speaks in a variety of ways. I guess speaking through a film is one way to do it.  

At some point in my life, I have to stop torturing myself so much. It is constant. I torture myself daily. I am the kind of wife, mother, daughter, and sister that owns all the things. I question my motives, intentions, desires, and thoughts. Where things go wrong, regardless of who is at its root, I torture myself. Torturing myself has gone on for years. I can’t just let it roll off my back, it absorbs in my soul, and I wear the wrongs like a cloak.

I believe it is time to torture myself a little bit less. Today is a good day. I can believe everything I’m typing. Tomorrow may be different.

As I was floating in our pool, listening to H play, I thought of everything I “own.” Running through my list, I went through all our children, my siblings, parents, marriage, etc. Then, it hit me. 99% of what I torture myself about has nothing to do with me. I didn’t cause it, and I can’t fix it. Let’s jump back into our adoption years.

Life Just Isn’t Always so Tidy.

God’s plan isn’t always so easy to understand. Our first plan was international when we decided to expand our family through adoption. I knew Ethiopia was in our future at a young age. Yet God had other plans.  

He brought in our first set of kids for a season, reuniting them within about a month with their birth mom.  When the left, I thought I had done something wrong.

For some reason, I believed it was my fault that they returned to their mother. I was so young and inexperienced in foster care and adoption through the foster care system.

I know now that reunification is always the first thing to do, if possible. What a beautiful thing that they got to go back to the one that gave them life. It was a short season with her, but I know that they are safe and loved with the family they are with now. I can let that go. My love for those kids will always be powerful. Yet, God had other plans. Now, I can be happy and thankful I was a safe haven for them. They were loved by us and loved by so many people.


Sometimes Reunification is Not a Possibility.

When we got the call for our second set of kids, I allowed fear to creep into my heart. Sadly, I had not healed from the loss of the previous two children. Again, I wore a cloak and tortured myself for something that wasn’t mine to wear.  

Reunification was not in the cards for our second placement. We met these kids so full of tentative smiles and lots of hyperactivity. We were eager to expand our family. Yet, we tried to do everything right to reunify them with their birth mom. Sadly, that didn’t work, and trauma was prevalent.

Coming from Foster Care is a Tricky Thing

These kids were coming from multiple foster homes. Living in numerous homes was due to behavior, PTSD, and more. We were so ill-equipped to handle the needs of one of the children and we had no help or resources from the state.

Looking back, almost 16 years later, we see all the signs. Then, we just wanted to heal, love, and show this child Christ. One of my kids has written some powerful things about foster care and abuse. Those things are very well-spoken.

Now, this young person is someone I don’t even know. A lot of damage has been done, and bridges have been burned. However, my (our) love for this child will always remain steadfast, though we have to protect the other kids in our home.

I hope that one day, we can all be reunited. Forgiveness can take place, and healing can happen. Healing and forgiveness can only be orchestrated by the One that loves us all.

Right now, that isn’t what is going to happen. For years, I thought I was crazy. Hindsight is 20/20.

Now, I see where I was at fault, and I’ve apologized and made peace with it, for the most part. Again, I’m wearing a giant cloak that is not mine.  

I am not responsible for the decisions being made now. The things in the past I’ve owned, asked forgiveness for, and tried to remedy within myself. Sadly, I have no control over what is going on now. I pray that help is sought, proper medication, therapy, nutrition, sleep, and a lot of Jesus will permeate this child’s life.  

In my life, I choose to continue with therapy, confide in those closest to me, seek the face of Jesus, and prepare for rain. Preparing for rain looks different for everyone. In our case, we have cameras up, people who need to know are made aware of things, an attorney if things go in a way they shouldn’t, authorities are on alert, and documents are gathered. Preparing and doing these things are not indicative of anything other than protecting my other kids. My hope and prayer are still that the Lord reunites my whole family.


Things are Looking Up

Our pool is working, the air conditioning is cooking (though it is limping), we are all healthy, and great things are on the horizon. I have introduced my grandkids to music! Music is one thing that we missed in those years. We had to limit it due to some obsessions. Now, my home is flooded with music and dancing. My grands love opera! We listen to blues, the 60s, classical, praise and worship, old hymns, Frank Sinatra, and much more. Then there is J & D’s music. I’m not sure what you classify that as, LOL. It is so joyful and peaceful (most of the time).  

I have plants that are still alive. That is a fantastic thing! We are slowly redoing the things that need to be renovated in our house. Thankfully, I’m not obsessing over those little things. I’m reveling in the fact that we can and are making progress. H has made great strides and improvements with his OMS and behavior. J is thriving. D is succeeding, and his growth astounds me. Our relationship has improved a 1000%. We talk every night. I mean, honestly, what teenage boy wants to talk to his mom every night. Yet, he calls like clockwork, and we have the best conversations. My bigs are healthy, grandbabies are healthy, and my son is having an event in March. My parents are here often, and I love that so much.


In All the Thanks for the Above

I still miss my one. Still, I want that one here enjoying everything and being a part of our life. Yet, that isn’t going to happen right now. It can happen, and I pray that it will. For now, I continue to pray for healing. I revel in peace. Slowly, I take off the cloaks that are not mine. I’m giving them back to whom they belong while owning what I need to own. I’m prepared for the rain. I am not afraid. We are good, safe, loved, and healthy.   


Adoption, Medical Issues

Dys- Learning Disabilities

Dys- Learning DisabilitiesDys- Learning Disabilities

This is a breakdown of the Dys- learning disabilities. Growing up (up to adulthood, I guess), I only knew of Dyslexia. In that, Dyslexia meant that you saw/spelled a word backward.

Pretty amazing that that is all I thought it encompassed, huh.

Over time and with the help of some excellent therapists, I have learned so much more. By stepping out of the “box” I had created with LDs, I could expand my mind and have many “aha” moments of realization.


According to the National Institute for Learning Disabilities (NILD), “Dys” means difficulty with and “lexia” means words – thus “difficulty with words”. Originally the term “Dyslexia” referred to a specific learning deficit that hindered a person’s ability to read. More recently, however, it has been used as a general term referring to the broad category of language deficits that often includes the ability to hear and manipulate sounds in words as well as the ability to read and spell words accurately and fluently. When breakdowns occur in these foundational reading skills, dyslexic students often struggle to understand what they read as well as develop vocabulary at a slower rate.


“Dys” means difficulty with and “calculia” means calculations and mathematics – thus “difficulty with calculations and mathematics”. This term refers to those who struggle with basic number sense and early number concepts as well as have difficulties with math calculations and math reasoning.


“Dys” means difficulty with and “graphia” means writing – thus “difficulty with writing”.  The term dysgraphia refers to more than simply having poor handwriting. This term refers to those who struggle with the motor skills necessary to write thoughts on paper, spelling, and the thinking skills needed for vocabulary retrieval, clarity of thought, grammar, and memory.

Looking Back

In my years in school, this all makes sense. When I was young (even now), I was made fun of terribly in school. Teachers would put me in the hallway, alone. I had to go to a special ed room. There is this clear memory of standing in line, with other children, behind the teacher. She marched us to the special ed class in front of everyone. My “friends” pointed at me while laughing because I was going to the “stupid” room.

That phrase gives me anxiety to this day.

I had to be kept in from recess because I wouldn’t do what they wanted me to do. Memorization of math facts in second grade was a nightmare. I had to miss fun outings, sit alone, and worse. I had my name at the bottom of the list of kids who hadn’t learned these facts. Everyone saw. Everyone made fun of me.

Things I struggle with

Telling time on an analog clock is one of those things. If the watch (I no longer wear a look) has no numbers or Roman numerals, then forget it. I can do it, but it takes me a hot minute to think about it.

Directions, just don’t even. I can tell you landmarks because I became an expert at knowing my surroundings. Cardinal directions, ordinal numbers, place numbers, Roman numerals. Hard pass.

My right from my left; nope. Luckily, God created me with this issue, so he gave me a mole on my right hand. Ask me to look to the right and then watch me look/feel for my mole on each hand.

When I have a series of numbers, I flip the two middle numbers. Always. I have messed up balancing checkbooks, appointments, phone numbers, etc. I must write it, say it, write it again, and clarify now.

To get through math, through all grades, I cheated a lot. My mom is a math teacher. She is brilliant, but I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand, and I felt stupid when I would ask. Seriously, I should know this stuff. She is brilliant and available, yet I would not ask because she would know my secret.

Do you know how long it took me to tie my shoe? Luckily, velcro came on the scene and saved me.

That’s what I thought it was

My secret. As long as I had my mole, knew landmarks, cheated, got a digital watch…no one would know. Sadly, I knew. I have no clue how I managed to do all that I did with my degrees. Pre-Vet has A LOT of math and calculations. I would have little tricks that would help me along the way.

Then Came a Little One

When my little one entered my life, this child was 2.5 yrs old and non-verbal. We knew this child had some issues, so I immediately got Little One into First Steps. Little One got tubes twice and finally learned to talk but with a speech impediment.

No biggie. After Little One graduated from First Steps, I got this child into Home Health. Little One worked hard on speech. Over time, I realized that due to FASD, the memory aspect was fresh every morning. No matter how hard this child worked or worked with Little One, this child would forget everything I taught.

Public School

While we were in the process of adopting another child, we had to put the kids in public school. Little One was in Kindergarten. Guess what? Little One was in the special ed classroom, but not an all-day thing. Just long enough to work on the alphabet and phonics.

Little One finally got it, but the writing was a no-go, and reading was not happening. The sadness of seeing this child struggle was palpable. It brought up many repressed memories I had to trudge through to help Little One.


I pulled this child out of school for many reasons, none of which I will go into because it is his story to tell one day. In doing that, I knew that I needed to get Little One back into speech. We had his hearing checked, and in doing that, Little One was checked for Sensory Processing Disorder. Luckily, all that was good.

Across the hall was the speech team. We met with Alison for a “get to know you” and see if this child qualifies for their program. Well, Little One did. She didn’t ask me how this child was at reading or spelling. There were questions like “does Little One know his right from his left” or “how long did it take Little One to tie his shoes?” I answered them all as honestly as I could.


When it was all said and done, she said Little One qualified for their program’s speech aspect. Then she patted me on the back and said: “we do not diagnose, usually, dyslexia until a child is older.” I was like, alright, that ship didn’t even enter my harbor. She got really quiet and patted me on the back. Quietly, she said, “Your son has severe dyslexia. I knew within 5 minutes of meeting this child.”

I started laughing. Allison was startled at that response, so she kept on patting. While asking if I was okay, I said: “We just discovered my 6th child has single-sided deafness, so this diagnosis for D is just like a teardrop in the ocean.”

After that, I just stated that I thought it was me and could not teach this child. She said that is not the case, that this child learns differently. As we continued talking about the red flags of dyslexia (and dysgraphia), she asked me a few questions about myself.


In a moment of clarity, she looked at me and smiled. She said you realize you are smart and have been able to overcome your learning disability. I must have had a blank moment because I did not comprehend what she even said. She asked me when I was diagnosed with Dyscalculia. I told her that I had never heard of that. That I just thought I was stupid in that area.

Cue emotions.

She explained what that was and that it was crystal clear that that was what I had. Back when I was younger, there was not a name for it. Now there is. I almost felt vindicated. It is what it is. I have compensated for my shortcomings and confusion. So has D.

New Lease

Now, we are armed with knowledge. Little One cannot spell worth a crap. Therefore, I got this child a pocket speller. Little One has all these ideas and thoughts but can’t get them on paper. I bought Dragon Speak so this child could speak out what needed to. Little One has written some awesome things through this program.

We bought an amplifier so Little One could hear what I was saying, and his speech was corrected. Also, we did many years of speech/reading/language therapy. I had this child write books from the Bible. His penmanship is meticulous because this child has worked incredibly hard. Cursive was something I thought this child would not be able to do, but guess what, though? Writing the book of Genesis in cursive has changed that too! We got a dry-erase cursive board, and Little One practiced until this child mastered it.

Little One loves to read, so we get any series that interests this child. Also, Librivox and Audible have been game-changers. Both of these programs have real-lived people (as opposed to the computer voices) reading stories. Little One gets to hear it all, but also gets to listen to their inflections. This has helped his speech tremendously.

Fear is a Liar

I lived in fear. Now, I am armed with Truth and knowledge. Being armed has given me clarity and understanding. Learn all you can about something you are afraid of. You are strong, brave, kind, and good. We no longer live in fear. We are empowered!



What 12 Things You Can Do to Help Foster Children

What 12 Things You Can Do to Help Foster Children


What 12 Things You Can Do to Help Foster Children

What 12 Things You Can Do to Help Foster Children?  We are not all called to adopt.  Adoption is HARD.  We are, all, called to do something.  That something may be donated to another person’s adoption.  You could collect hygiene products, stuffed animals, or small things that could be given to a child who is taken into care.  You could faithfully pray for these children.

Every child deserves safety, love, last name, security, food, clothes, grace, and mercy.  These mamas and daddy’s that foster and/or adopt need respect, grace, forgiveness, understanding, prayer, and help.  They do not need opinions, judgment, sarcasm, or an eye-rolling session.

Adoption is so hard.  It is also so worth it.  The act of adoption is refining and sanctifying, it is walking out Jesus’ command to care for the orphans and widows.  Adoption is all of these things, rolled up in one act of obedience.

I am Special.  A Revelation of Catfish.

I asked Catfish (4) tonight why he felt the need to sit on me all the time….his response:

Catfish:  Because I’m special.

Me:  Oh, really, why are you so special?

Catfish:  Because I’m adopted.

Me:  What does adopted mean?

Catfish:  I don’t know.

Me:  Where’d you come from?

Catfish:  God.

Seriously edible moment.

We had had foster children once before Catfish came to live with us.  We desired to help foster children.  We were his second “formal” foster home.  He was in the foster care system as a baby and came to us at 2 1/2 yrs. old.

Pray.  Research.  Ask Questions on How to Help Foster Children

Please consider how you can help a child in need.  The only thing you could do that was “wrong” is to do nothing.  Here are 12 practical ideas for helping foster children:

  • Pray
  • Be a non-judgmental ear
  • Bring dinner
  • Offer respite
  • Do a stuffed animal drive and donate to your local DCBS office and police officers
  • Create “teen” bags.  Hygiene products, school supplies, small trinkets
  • Talk to your children about when they meet a “foster” child or a child who has been adopted.
  • De-stigmatize the word SPECIAL NEEDS.  Make it the norm instead of the ab-norm.
  • Clean the house of a foster/adoptive parent
  • Offer to run to the store
  • Gift cards to parents to eat out while you watch their kids
  • Oh, and pray.

For more information on how to help foster children or adopt them through the foster care system, please go to Adopt US Kids.