Foster Parents, Fight For Joy

Today I choose joy.

I have heard this phrase many times, and I know you have too. I have it on a tee-shirt. There are multiple books and Bible studies by that title. Coffee mugs, plaques, stickers, bracelets, and bookmarks can all serve as reminders, surrounding us at every turn, to choose joy.

It sounds so simple, doesn’t it? “Choose joy. Just do it. You know, make a choice that you’re going to have joy and then have joy.”

But it’s not simple at all. In fact, if you ask me, joy is often very elusive. In the midst of the pain and brokenness that many of us experience every day, is excruciatingly hard to come by.

But it is worth fighting for.

In fact, I think the saying should be “Today I fight for joy.” Because that is more accurate and a more helpful way to understand how joy comes to us. We fight for it.

There is a passage in the Bible that I memorized as a small child. Both of my grandmothers were very fond of Psalm 118:24 and recited it frequently.

This is the day the Lord has made;
We will rejoice and be glad in it.

Next to this verse, in the margin of my Bible, I have written the words, “BATTLE CRY.” That’s because, when it comes to “choosing” joy, that’s how I see it: something to fight for. When I say, “This is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it,” I am planting my stake in the ground. I am throwing down the gauntlet. I am taking off the gloves. I am pulling out my earrings. I’m ready to fight.

But how? How do I fight for joy, really? Practically?

For starters, I get clear about what joy is—and what it’s not. Joy is not the same thing as happiness. Happiness is an emotion that always feels good. Joy is an emotion that sometimes comes with a deep ache. Happiness is getting what we wanted. Joy is knowing someone we love got what they wanted, often at great personal sacrifice to us. Happiness is getting out of the valley of the shadow of death unscathed. Joy is being in the valley of the shadow of death and knowing you’re not alone.

So why I am writing about this on a foster parenting blog?

Well, if you haven’t figured it out yet, being a foster parent is really, really hard, and if you’re not careful, you will lose your joy.

I have had many conversations over the past several weeks with foster parents (and people who have adopted via foster care), and the theme that came up over and over again was, this is freakin’ hard.

Parenting a child with a traumatic past is hard.

Bonding with a child you met as a teen is hard.

Knowing how to manage a child who is neuro-atypical because of early childhood trauma
and/or in-utero drug and alcohol exposure is hard.

Parting with the toddler you’ve had since birth is hard.

Realizing you’re not cut out to be a foster parent is hard.

Over the past month, I have connected with people in all of these scenarios. I met a woman who adopted four children via foster care. All of them have behavioral challenges, but two in particular are very hard to manage. Talking with her, I could sense her sorrow—not sorrow for having adopted children with challenges, but sorrow that she can’t do more to help them. There is definitely a feeling helplessness I encounter in my work with foster parents, and I often feel it myself. Foster parenting is everything regular parenting is, plus a whole lot more.

Also in the past month, I have watched a friend say goodbye to a toddler she has had since bringing him home from the hospital. Reunification happened very quickly, without much warning, and on heels of being asked to adopt the child, the mom started rehab and adoption, which had never been their plan in the first place, was ripped off the table. That roller coaster caused emotional whiplash, and my friend and her husband are now, in her words, “in a fog.” For seventeen months, every day began with tending to the baby: changing him, feeding him, cuddling him, playing with him. Now, with very little time to prepare, he is gone.

Another person I spoke with this month was a foster mom whose foster daughter just had “another” brain surgery for a traumatic brain injury she sustained before coming into foster care. The abuse she endured in her family of origin has left her permanently scarred, and this foster mom spends a lot of her time managing the child’s TBI-related special needs.

The stories I could share from the conversations I have on a monthly basis are endless—and I haven’t even mentioned any stories from my own family. Again, wading into the waters of foster parenting is very hard, and if you’re not careful, it will rob you of all joy.

That’s why you have to fight. But how?

Fighting for joy begins by recognizing that joy is worth fighting for. It is so easy to sink into the mire of sadness and helplessness when you face some of the challenges we face. But that only makes everything worse. We have to decide that we will fight. That’s the first step.

Next, practice true self care. I put together this “New Year, New Self Care Plan” for members of The Flourishing Foster Parent a few years ago, and it’s one way to gauge how you’re doing in terms of tending the garden of your own life and soul. It addresses getting adequate rest, nutrition and exercise, tending your relationships (especially with your spouse or partner), adding tools to your “parenting toolbox,” nurturing your soul, and finding ways to simplify your life. The more stressful life gets, the more vital it is that you attend to these six “fields of flourishing.”

Meditate on why foster care exists and what your role is as a foster parent. There are children in your community who need a safe place to be cared for and nurtured and loved until they can go home or find a permanent home. As a foster parent, you are serving vulnerable children, sometimes through great personal sacrifice to you, and with little personal gain. While you cannot “fix” everything that’s broken in their world, you can give them love and safety and a nurturing environment in the meantime. Happiness would be everything working out for their good. Joy is knowing you’re doing your part.

Give yourself permission to grieve. Foster parenting comes with a lot of grief. You will grieve for what your children have gone through. You will grieve for your child’s pain. You will grieve what the decision to be a foster parent has cost you. You will grieve over unmet expectations of what parenting would look like. And, of course, you will grieve when a child you have grown “too attached” to goes home. Learn how to grieve in a healthy way, and make space to do so. Denying your grief or trying to move on too quickly will make life so much harder, and it will surely rob you of every last ounce of joy.

Laugh with someone who gets it. I find such joy in being with other people who “get it.” Talking with other foster parents and those who have adopted via foster care, sharing our experiences, empathizing with one another, sharing the painful laugh of recognition when you can say to someone, “You too?”

Lastly, love those babies as well as you can. Whether they are newborns or teens, love them well for as long as they are with you. Even when they are lashing out, even when they are suspended from school, even when they lie, even when the Beauty becomes the Beast. Love and keep loving them. I can attest to this: I have never felt joy from failing my kids, but I have experienced great joy in knowing I have loved them well, even though I know my love is not enough. Foster parenting is love + therapy, love + structure, love + positive discipline, love + consistency, etc.

I don’t know who (besides me) needed this today. But I needed to write it.

My world has been challenging lately. My family is experiencing serious illness, mental health crises, school disciplinary actions, and relational strain. There are days my head feels like it’s going to explode, as I seek to juggle therapy appointments and calls with the school and implementing the latest behavioral crisis plan. (And this is on top of normal stressors, like cooking and cleaning and chauffeuring my family around.) I can go days before I realize that I can’t remember the last time I laughed.

I don’t want that for myself.

And I don’t want it for you.

If you are a foster parent, let me urge you to fight for joy.

The fact is, foster parenting (and raising children adopted via foster care) is hard. There is no way to avoid the pain and heartache it involves. But I know for a fact that, even with all that this life can entail, it is possible to have joy.

You just have to be willing to fight for it.

Photo by Melinda Gimpel on Unsplash

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