Thursday, September 15, 2011


To start with...on Tuesday I got a phone call from Lizzy's mom that started with an abrupt "Who is talking about adoption when it comes to Lizzy."


Reason literally One Million why I regret letting her get her hands on my phone number. (I also have about 200 reason why I am glad I have hers, but still...)

So, I told her "The social worker told me that she told you that they wanted to change the goal."

Mom: "Yeah, but they never said anything about adoption."

Me: "Well, when they change the goal to termination that means she would be adopted by someone."

Mom finally gets it. There was crying and talk of how "I did everything they asked me to" and talk of "I only want you to adopt her."

She also said, "I want what is best for her, I don't want her to have the kind of life I had...I can't give it to her right now..."

Eventually she got sick of talking about it and got off the phone. I started crying. I was crying for the little girl that Lizzy's mom used to be. I was crying for all the time she herself spent in foster care. I was crying for the things she never had and the things, like how to be a self-sacrificing mama, that she never was shown. I cried for a mama that was not going to be allowed to raise the baby that she carried for 9 months. I cried for a woman that I hoped would not look at this as God giving them the short end of the stick...again.

I cried and did laundry. By now Lizzy was following me around saying "You alwight mom?" in her two year old way. I picked her up and snuggled her, probably not for me...more for her mom who couldn't I guess. I looked into those brown eyes that can only be passed down by someone who isn't me and told her I loved her...and then let her follow me around the house some more.

Lizzy's mom is not capable of making good parental decisions. She tends to take a wrecking ball to her own life and those who are close to it every few months. She just wants to be loved, I can see it, but she doesn't know what it looks like, feels like, or how to give it back. She never had a chance to learn it. It isn't fair. I know "we all grow up and make our own choices", but I would not be too shocked to find out that if I was handed the same lot in life that I wouldn't have turned out much different than she has.


Carol said...

There is so much I could say on this subject. My heart breaks for the lives that could have been. People, even people like most of us here, have a hard time understanding, because we think that parents could do better if they but chose to. But the truth is that they don't have the tools to use to pull themselves up by their boot straps. Their own childhoods did not equip them for a productive life. Adults that have spent a lot of time during their chidhood in foster care are as broken as the system itself. Oh, man I could go on and on about that.

I have sat in the courtroom while parental rights were terminated on more than one occasion. I was unprepared for the emotions that would flood through me during the first one that I sat through. Neither the mom or the dad showed any emotion, not a tear was shed by them. I cried like a baby. I cried for what they didn't even know they were going to miss. I cried for the futures that the 3 kids in the case were going to now enjoy and the healing that could now take place after all of the pain they had experienced.

I feel your pain--pain for the mom, and at the same time the emotion involved in realizing little Lizzy's life will not have to face her painful visits and can now be more peaceful allowing her to heal and go on to a great life.

Blessings and healing for all of you and for even mom. May this be a turning place in her life and may she find healing in Jesus

CherubMamma said...

Praying for you.

Rebekah said...

This is true love...what you're experiencing, what you're giving. I love how the power of God is capable of gripping our hearts and pouring out an abundance that could never come from ourselves. I'm sad with you.

I was recently talking to a friend that told a story of her very hardened brother. They were raised by different families and haven't had much communication over the years. When she asked him what happened to him, he recanted a story. He was 8 years old and crying to his dad in the garage about some bullies at school. The dad looked at him and said, "What are you afraid of?" He replied with, "I'm afraid they'll beat me up and hurt me." The dad punched his son square on the nose, causing it to bleed. He said, "There. Now you've been punched by a grown man. The next time that kid comes near you, knock him on his a$$."

This story broke my heart. I've seen the effects of the "father" on this now-man's life. Is it any wonder that the son has lead a life of rebellious hatred and been in and out of jail?

Crime is terrible...but sometimes it's not hard to be compassionate when you know the background of the criminal.

We've got to do something. We've got to change the tide for these kids. And you, my friend, are blazing the trail.

Thank you for being a light. Thank you for loving Lizzy like our Father.

Debbie said...

Thank you! Wishing I could explain why but privacy won't let me. Thank you for sharing this post.