"Did You Guys Plan This?"

People often ask us how it is we came to adopt six kids in one fell swoop.  "Did you plan this?"  My internal dialogue goes something like this, "Does anyone plan THIS?"  The filtered version of me usually is able to say something a little softer like "Not exactly.  It was a process."  So, here is the Cliffs notes version of the story.

I read my first book on foster care when I was still in high school.  I was drawn to it then, and knew it was something I wanted to do.  Ray has had a heart for adoption for a long time.  We discussed the possibility of fostering/adopting before we were ever engaged.  The idea was there, but definitely on the back burner.

We had three basic rules we had settled on:

1) We would start our biological family first (perhaps the only rule we actually kept).  And we would not foster or adopt until our bio kids were older... we thought middle school would be a good age.
2) We would not foster or adopt any child older than our bio children.  We wanted the influence of oldest to youngest to work in our favor.  We figured this was safer (and it probably was).
3) One kid.  That's it.  One.

I am a rule follower so this list was important.  We had a plan.

Of course we were far too young and naive to understand that God had a plan of His own.  And that life has a funny, and unexpected, way of unfolding.

In May of 2009 we had Asa (4) and Gretchen (2).  I was only working part time at Kids' Day Out.  We bought our first house and swore we'd never move again.  A few months later I was offered a full time job at the church, and although I really thought I'd stay at home for a few more years, I couldn't pass the opportunity up.  I took it.  That was a large part of the catalyst.  I soon realized that almost half of the kids I worked with in Children's Ministry were currently in foster care, or had been adopted out of it.  The opportunity was now front and center.

Not long after that we were invited to a church kid's birthday party.  It was a great day.  Asa and Gretchen had a blast swimming and playing on the bounce house.  There was lots of food.  The community was strong.  And we were invited into it.  What Ray and I both realized, and discussed on the way home that day, was that Asa and Gretchen were the only bio kids at that party.  All the other families were involved in foster care.  Ray and I talked on the way home.  The timeline had been bumped up.  Why wait?  The need is NOW.  And it is staring us in the face.

We started MAPP classes (Model Approach to Partnership in Parenting).  Basically, foster care classes. Thirty hours of them, followed by home visits, background checks, inspections, and lots of paperwork.

While we were still in MAPP, a foster family from our church called to let me know they were taking in a sibling group of three girls (Jessica was 14, Sarah was 13, and Izzy- then named Sandy- was 8).  Since at least one of the girls would be in children's ministry with me, I went to the foster family's house the day the girls arrived.  I took a couple of meals and a Bible for each girl.  I remember a handful of things about that day.  Little did I know I was meeting three of my future daughters!!!  Wow, the thought of that...

During that summer the girls were around a lot.  We saw them mostly at church.  They were shy, and stayed close to the few people they knew.  Remember, we were still in process of getting our license so I was paying close attention to how everything unfolded.  I had lots of questions.  And thankfully I had a bunch of foster families at the church who were available to discuss all of these things with me.

Not too long after that I had a group of elementary kids at summer camp.  I received a call from the foster mom who had the girls and she gave me some unexpected news... the girls had three younger siblings!  They were in three separate foster homes in three different counties.  And they hadn't been receiving their weekly sibling visits.

"Wouldn't it be great if you took the younger three kids once you are licensed?" she asked.

"No, that wouldn't be great.  Sounds kinda like hell to me," I replied.  I only say this because, remember, Asa and Gretchen are 4 and 2.  And the three little kids were 2, 3, and 5 at the time.  FIVE PRESCHOOLERS.  No thank you.

But she had a positive persistence.  One of those people who thinks big and sees what is possible.  God used her repetitive invitations for us to open up our home to the three little kids.  It was definitely not an overnight decision, but by the time we were licensed, we had made the decision.  If possible, we would foster the three little kids.  Two foster homes were better than four foster homes.  All six kids would see each other at church on Wednesdays and Sundays.  They could visit each other regularly.  It did seem like a much better set up.  And it worked!  Exactly as planned, we received our license and the three littles moved in one at a time.  First Brittany, then Kristina, and finally Matthew (then called Terry).

I think I have referenced in other blogs how difficult that first year was.  Truly exhausting.  But we managed (with God's grace and some wonderful friends) and everything fell into place.  While we were getting to know these three new little guys, we also continued getting to know the three older girls.

The goal of foster care is always to reunify children with their biological family.  So for eighteen months we faced the very real possibility that these kids we were falling in love with may not get to stay with us.  Another potential blog topic- how do you love on kids like they are your own, when they may not get to be your own?  Another time.

In November 2010 the kids' case took an unexpected turn.  Their bio parents failed to show for a critical court date and their parental rights were terminated on the spot.  Even after eighteen months, the realization that these kids would never return to their birth parents seemed very sudden.  It was a flurry of emotion.  So much sadness and grieving over what they had just lost.  Uncertainty in regards to the future.  Thankfulness that the justice system worked, and these sweet ones would land somewhere safe.    That day was surreal.  The details are very fuzzy now.

We knew that the welfare agency would do everything they could to try to place this sibling group in a single adoptive home.  Six kids.  Instant family.  Just add water:)

I won't go into all the details of the weeks that followed, but I can tell you that it was gut wrenching.  There were now two foster families who had invested deeply in these kids.  Two families that loved them.  There were no easy answers.  Eighteen months is a long time to have a child in your home- no one wants to lose that.

Before 2010 came to a close, the three oldest girls had moved in with us.  God had worked on us, slowly but surely, and we had accepted His invitation.  We were now parents to EIGHT children!

My friends, we did not plan this.  But He knew it all along.

Community- Part 1

As I think about all the things I hope to write about some day, I can already tell that COMMUNITY will be a recurring theme.  One of the most amazing expressions of community happened around this time last year when God dropped an amazing opportunity in our laps.  I'll save all the details for another blog, but the short version is that our church began working with a group we now call Isaiah 58 (at the time led by a man named William)- a ministry to those who are homeless or disadvantaged.  Around the same time, several of my close friends and I read, and then shared, books such as Crazy Love (Chan), 7 (Hatmaker), and Kisses from Katie (Davis).  We were wrecked to our cores.  Our stewardship of not only our finances, but also our time and talent, came under deep and swift conviction.

Have you ever had an amazing experience - alone - and then returned to family or friends and tried to adequately put it into words, only to realize you fall way short of doing it justice?  What was precious to you now is at risk of becoming a frustration.  If only those you love could have experienced it alongside of you!

I feel so blessed that this was not the case.  Right there with me, were my friends.  God was dealing with us all.  The conviction was no less strong, but with it came a comfort.  An understanding.  We were in it together.

I saved a couple of those precious texts.  Re-reading them for the first time tonight, I am so glad that I held on to them.  How much we forget! And how quickly!

3/20/12 text from my friend Erin:
Erin:  "I don't like you very much right now.  I just ate half rotten salad for lunch b/c there are starving children who would have killed for my lunch.  Thank u William, Katie Davis, & Jen Hatmaker.  I don't like u very much right now."

Me: "Ha!  I ate the crust on my bread today (which I always tell my children to do but personally revolt against).  I have substituted some of the craziest foods for dinner b/c I refused to go to the store and buy what we actually needed.  Etc etc.  Ray came home 'mad at God' one day last week."

By the way, Ray was "mad at God" because he was in on this thing too.  And while he agreed with my new frugal approach to meal planning, he hated it.  You can mess with a lot with that boy, but leave his food alone!

3/21/12 text from my friend Meg
Meg: "I just had a moment, in front of Marshalls.  There was a lady, with a sign, u know what it said.  I walked passed 'I am on the phone God, I'll catch her on the way out.'  I go inside, hang up, feel convicted, open my wallet. 'I only have $20 God, she may spend it on drugs.'  I keep walking deeper into the store.  God replies, 'and how is that different than spending it on a dress you don't need.' (which was for Anna's shower, btw) [Anna is a sweet friend of ours from church and Meg is helping host a baby shower for her this weekend].  I turn around, cross the street, hand her the $20.  She looks down and says 'wow, this is a lot.  I can go home now.'  We talk;  I share Jesus.  I want this new normal..."

Me: "Thx.  I am crying now."

Meg : "Thank our new 'friends' William, Katie, and Jen!!!"

Me: "Erin and I decided we'll all wear our oldest dress to Anna's shower :)"

3 hours later...

Meg: "No lie, found a dress in my closet I wore to MY REHEARSAL dinner- makes it over 10 years old!!!  May be a contender for Saturday. :)"

Me: "Chances are very good.  Especially since I just gave away half of my clothes!!!"

I have a million more texts similar to these from more friends than I deserve.  Technical testimonies to the kinds of friends have.  Ones who love Jesus, and spur me on to love Him more.  Friends who have my back.  Who don't call me crazy.... or more appropriately they DO call me crazy- and tell me to go for it anyway.  Friends who I don't have to explain myself to, because they already get it.  Friends who are far from perfect, like me.  But they are letting God have His way with them.  And they let me have front row seats for the show.

This community thing is so good.  I don't ever want to forget that or take it for granted.

Willing

Several years ago God began to work on my heart in regards to my perception of the homeless.  Like anything that I have been convicted of, the process was slow- not because God wasn't clear, but because I am dull.  Years later, when I finally "get it" I can look back and see how long it took me to arrive.  He is patient with me!

This particular transformation began with my attitude towards panhandlers.  I couldn't ignore them but I also didn't feel comfortable giving money.  At that time McDonald's sold $1 food vouchers in denominations of $5, $10, $20.  I bought some of those and kept them in my glove box.  If I saw someone holding a sign, I could tear out a few dollars of voucher money.

McDonald's stopped carrying those so I decided if I saw someone with a sign, I would go get them food and bring it back to them.  One time I did that and the person had 3 other bags of fast food at his feet by the time I returned.  Fail.

Off and on Ray and I have been known to carry bottles of water and Gatorade in our car, along with some granola bars or something similar.  This seemed like a much better alternative than giving hot food.

Fast forward a few years.  I read the book "What Difference Do It Make?".  It's a story about an unlikely friendship that formed between a wealthy art dealer and an illiterate homeless man.  The one lesson I took away from that book centered on dignity.  While I may have been meeting a small and immediate need of food, I was doing nothing to help a fellow human being feel.... human.  My friend Marty says if you offer a homeless or disadvantaged person $5 or 5 minutes of your undivided attention, they will want your attention every time.  I know that now.  I didn't know that then.  And giving a stranger my time made me nervous.

Not long after reading that book I went to Panera for lunch.  I was alone, which is like heaven to me.  I had a book with me, and I had no intention of talking to anyone:)  Not long after I sat down, right by the window, I saw a man walk by, all of his possessions in his shopping cart.  I don't recall if he was asking anyone for anything.  I don't think he was.  

"Invite him to eat lunch with you."

Crickets......

"How about I just buy him food?  He looks hungry."

"Invite him to eat WITH YOU."

I like to pull the "I'm just a girl" card, but only when it's convenient.  Currently, it was convenient.

"What if something happens?  I want to obey you, but I also want to be wise.  I have a family to think about, you know?"

"It's your choice."

I went out and spoke to the man.  I introduced myself and I asked him his name.  I invited him to lunch.

Sadly, I don't remember his name.  I don't remember much of what we talked about.  What I know for sure is that experience added another link to the chain to get me where I am today, which is still far from where I hope to be- but further along than where I was.

That was probably two years ago.  I haven't thought about that day much at all since then.  Until I drove into work this morning....

On my way I drove right past an older man sitting along the side of the road.  He had a suitcase beside him.  He was not at a bus stop pick up location.  He looked rough.

"Stop and talk to him."

"The road is busy.  I can't just stop.  Plus, I'm just a girl..."  You can imagine how the next 2 minutes went as I argued with myself.  And with God.  "Aren't I doing enough?  I've changed.  I have friends who are homeless.  I ate lunch with them yesterday!  It's not that I don't care.  Surely you know that.   I'm going to be late for work.  And he did look pretty sketchy.  Where does common sense fit in here?  I am pretty sure Ray would not want me to stop."

At this point I am a mile further down the road than I was.  Now it's just downright inconvenient.

"It's your choice."

Three U-turns later I approach the man in the vehicle.  I slow and roll the window down just as he stands up and begins to walk towards me.  

"Are you ok?" I ask.

He nods.

"You're OK?  Do you need anything?"  He doesn't.

Sometimes He just wants to know we are WILLING to obey.  Then we are off the hook.  Genesis 22.

Finding Margin

Ever had unsolicited advice come at you from several unrelated sources in a very short amount of time?  A few months ago, on multiple accounts, I had different individuals, in regards to raising kids, say things like:

"They grow up so fast."

"You'll blink and they will be bigger than you are."

"Enjoy these years, they go by too quickly."

A few months ago is also when we were preparing to close on our new home, and enter an insane season of renovation and moving.  The pressure was building.

On a day to day basis, we do OK.  We have settled into the demands of running a large family.  Meals are planned ahead.  Calendars and to-do lists are created.  Things get done.

But on a day to day basis we are not purchasing a house.  We are not moving.  We are not renovating.

I began to consider what a day in the life of the Jester family looks like.  Busy.  Hyper-structured.  But do-able.  Even sustainable I would have said (after all, we've been maintaining this pace for two years now).  What I realized is that it was do-able and sustainable IF everything went according to plan.  IF no one had to go to the ER.  IF everyone's behavior remained civil.  IF we weren't renovating a home.

But life is messy.  Seasons change.  Stuff comes up.  And the plan doesn't always fall into place.  Then what?

I hadn't totally lost it yet, but I knew I was reaching my limit.  And quickly.  I decided I wanted to heed the advice I had been given.  I wanted to recognize the truly important things in life (my family).  Something had to give.

I approached the leadership at church and let them know how I was feeling.  I asked for a reduced work schedule for the next couple of months, just to get through the renovation and move.  I stopped packing lunches every day and I let the kids eat school lunch (yes, this is a big deal for me but my kids loved it).  I didn't sign up for the new basketball season (a HUGE sacrifice).  I re-worked the family calendar so that we didn't have something going on every night of the week.  I was on a quest to create margin in my life- some room to breath.

The old me, the one with a stubborn and unteachable spirit, would have pushed through.  That Jody would have said "it's only a couple of months.  Suck it up and get through it."  That version of me thrives on people's comments, "How DO you do it all?"  That me likes to have it all together.  Likes hyper productivity.

But there's a new me surfacing.  One that craves some stillness.  Some peace and quiet.  Some down time.  A me that knows that while my physical body may be able to go go go, my spirit needs some rest.

It's been four months since my quest for margin began.  The house is ours.  The bulk of the work is behind us.  A normal work week has resumed.

I sat on the porch this afternoon, surrounded by family.  The french doors leading to our lanai were all opened.  The breeze was incredible.  The house was calm.  I had a few things to do today but nothing incredibly pressing.  My calendar was not overly full.  My soul is happy.  There is room to breath.

Basketball starts up again soon and I really miss it.  I signed up to play.  I started packing the kids' lunches again.  I am acutely aware of the fact that I am just a few decisions away from being back to over-scheduled.  I really don't want that.

Margin is a moving target- I plan to stay locked in on it.

You Could Fill A Book

Anyone who is around me much knows that I am never too far from my iPhone.  Back right pocket, quick on the draw to shoot a text.  I am far from the person who thinks that technology can replace meaningful, human interactions but honestly, what DID we do before text messaging?!  My kids are hilarious and on a daily basis say the funniest stinkin' things.  Many of them are text-worthy.  For example, last week I was playing catch with the boys.  Asa threw to Matthew and the ball fell 10 feet short of his glove.  Emotionless, Matthew utters "lame."  That's good content, people.  Funny stuff happening up in here.

Partly because I readily share funny kid stories, and partly because we stepped into mega-familyhood almost overnight, I have had several people encourage me to write these things down.  "You could fill a book."

Ray and I, along with some of our good friends (who we call family) are developing this idea.  We have this amazing community, a collection of lives and stories that are being woven together in such a beautiful way.  Aside from salvation, this community is perhaps the greatest gift I have been given (7 years is not so long ago that I have forgotten what it feels like to be lonely).  It is a gift, not only to me, but to my kids.  "Is anyone coming over tonight?" they ask in anticipation.  The answer is almost always yes.  

So this idea of putting our lives on paper is progressing.  I am keeping notes of things I hope to write about someday.  The funny kid comments are being documented.  I have asked people close to me to remind me of some stories gone by, ones we don't want to forget (thanks, Jen, for being my friend who remembers EVERYTHING).  I am encouraging Ray to write more.  If anyone needs to write, it's him.  That guy is deep, and hilarious.  The perfect combo for readers.  My friend Marty has started a blog about his homeless and disadvantaged friends (they're just friends to us, but the world seems to need the classification still).

Currently the stories are separate but we half-joke about compiling them some day.  Ray's quippy one-liners (packed with truth and humor) could serve as chapter titles.  Texts to and from each other could provide much of the content.  Real life.  Sometimes mundane.  Often chaotic.  Always authentic.  Full of love.  And totally worth writing down.

Publix Bagger Girl

Some time ago, I was running through the grocery store to grab a couple of needed items.  It's important to note that I had come straight from the dentist and my mouth was numb.  Stupid numb.  I was hoping to not have to talk to anyone.

I quickly grabbed the few things we needed (almost everything we get comes in bulk from Sam's... not much use for Publix nowadays) and headed to the check out line.  I don't recall exactly the order of following events, but I do remember it being chaotic.  One of those times when you feel like you are floating above yourself and then, suddenly, you snap back to reality and wonder what in the world just happened?

My phone rang during check out and I broke my own rule by answering it (the caller and I had been playing phone tag and I knew she only had a simple question that I would be able to answer quickly).  Remember, my mouth is still numb.  I am willing myself to appear as normal as possible.

I hang up and apologize to the cashier for taking a call during checkout (I think that is rude).  As she is scanning my groceries and passing them along to the bagger, she spots a half sheet of paper on the conveyor belt.

"Is this yours?" she asks me.

"It's mine'" replies the bagger, who is in her late teens or maybe early twenties.  "It's some invitation to a church thing.  The lady who gave it to me told me I need to be saved."

The bagger and I make eye contact and without even meaning to, I raise my eyebrows and do some sort of half eye roll.  Before I know it my groceries are bagged, I have paid, and I am heading out the door.  Mouth still numb.  Thankful to have made it through the shopping experience without having to talk....much.

Let me explain the raised eyebrow, half eye roll.  I am not the kind of person who would walk up to a total stranger and say "You need to be saved."  First of all, what does that even mean?  If you have never stepped foot inside a church you might even ask "Saved from what?"  It's just not my style.  I understand that everyone is different.  Not only is it not my style, I really don't think it's all that effective.  I believe that relationships are where life change happen and somehow I doubt that church lady had a relationship with Publix bagger chic.  There are times to be bold.  There are times to step outside of your comfort zone and invite a total stranger to church.  But based on what I know about church folk, and based on what I know about young, skeptical non-church folk, I just don't think telling someone she needs to be saved and inviting her to revival is going to be real successful nowadays.  So I raised my eyebrows a little.  And I paid for my groceries and left.

What happened next I can only describe as intense and clear conviction.  As I am heading out the door at Publix, I realize what my eye roll probably looked like to the bagger.  She didn't have the luxury of being in my head (not that I would call that a luxury...).  For all she knew I thought the whole Jesus thing was a complete farce.  Who needs to be saved anyway?!  What if she had actually planned on going to the church that night?  What if my eye roll sent the message to her that she was fine the way she was?  That we don't really need a Savior?  That the whole religion thing is just a waste of time?

I knew what I had to do.  I needed to go back and talk to her.  I needed to explain that I love God.  I love the church.  And I believe in both.  But that I think so often Christians get it wrong.  And I am sorry for that.

There was only one problem.  My mouth was numb.  Stupid numb.

"I am not walking back over there," I told myself.

The other me muttered something about eternal damnation.  Dag gone conviction.

I went to my car, unloaded my groceries, sat in the driver's seat, key in the ignition, and proceeded to argue with myself.  Then I made a plan.

Yes, I am feeling like a total fool at this point.  I knew going back in there was going to be nothing shy of humiliating.  I also knew that driving away was no longer an option.  I ALSO knew I couldn't talk without sounding like a stroke victim.

I wrote a note.  It went something like this:

"I want to explain my visual reaction to the invitation you received to church.  I realize my response may have made it seem like I thought religion, church, or God were bad ideas and not worth pursuing.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  I believe that God made the world and everything in it.  And that you are His finest creation.  I also believe the Church is the hope of the world.  It's God's plan to share His love with everyone.  I believe there are many who are getting it right.  But there are MANY who are not.  I don't know if the lady who gave you the invitation to church was kind to you or not.  I hope that she was.  And if she wasn't, I am sorry.  That's not right.  I just don't want anything I do or say to ever turn someone away from pursuing a relationship with God.  And I realize that me coming back in here to give you this letter is totally creepy and weird.  Again, sorry.  But I couldn't pull away wondering if I had somehow hindered you from seeing God."

I folded up the piece of paper, slid a business card inside, walked back into Publix, and handed it to her.

I see the Publix bagger girl every now and then.  I have no idea if she recognizes me as that psycho Jesus chic.  She doesn't run away screaming, so that's a good sign.  I don't know why conviction strikes when it does.  I just know I get that yucky feeling inside when I don't listen to it.

Hopefully I am learning to temper my responses a little better, and think before I act/speak.  I have also learned not to go to Publix when my mouth is numb.  Stupid numb.

Sticks and Stones

Last week on the way to gymnastics, Asa said, " Mom, Friday this brown skinned boy called me the
S-T-U-P-I-D word."
I asked, "What did you do?"
Matter of factly Asa replied, "I just lived with it.  Nothin' I could do about it anyway."
Lesson from my son.  Next time criticism comes my way, I think I'll let it roll off of me.  Hey, it worked for Asa:)
(PS- not sure why Asa felt the need to refer to the kid as "brown skinned".  If it makes you feel better, he refers to himself as the white kid.  So there.)