Growing up in the family that I did, hearing about the injustices and horrific life circumstances of those in other parts of the world was normal. I vividly remember hearing about events that happened when I was young and how normal people struggled more in other parts of the world. My dad traveled to Africa several times and my oldest sister has had a call to the nations her entire life that has brought her all over the world. My siblings and I have all participated in international work projects as teenagers. We were exposed very early to our privilege as Americans.
I know orphans in Africa, lepers in India, and the destitute in Central America by name. The struggles they go through on a daily basis are not lost on me. The injustices they face are real to me.
It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized that there are people in my own city and in my own neighborhoods that also struggle and suffer. There are people in my area that are faced with choices and struggles that I never have had to. There are real people that I see every day that also face injustice. I wanted to be apart of the fight against that. Many years later, I became a foster parent. This is my calling in life. To love children who are answering for the mistakes of adults. Children who are often overlooked and forgotten. Children who need someone to believe in them.
Ryan and I are nearly two years into this journey. We are eight placements deep in less than two years. After eight children of our own I am realizing that the system is a mess. I am frustrated beyond belief. I am disappointed and disgusted in people, processes, and a system that is so very broken.
With all that said, I am invested. My family is invested. We are fully aware that the work we do is just a tiny dent in a never ending battle that is injustice to the disadvantaged in our community. Even though we are in what seems like a never ending battle, I have to fight. I could give in to my powerlessness and helplessness and quit. Or we can press on. We can pick up our metaphorical swords, learn perseverance and fight another day.
So, we fight. We continue to say yes. This is sometimes a daily choice to endure and keep going. This is a hard yes.This yes had consequences. But, I will choose to say yes. I will choose to continue to say yes.
I will keep saying yes even when things don’t go my way.
Even when we are ignored.
Even when we are lied to and lied about.
Even when we are bullied and manipulated.
Even when my child’s worker calls them the wrong name, even after knowing them for months.
Even when case workers don’t do what they say they will do.
Even when my children are exposed to preventable traumas.
Even when my kids needs are continually moved to the bottom of someone’s list.
Even when workers don’t communicate about visits and we have to change plans we have had for weeks to accommodate.
Even when school age children are not given any reason they don’t get to see their mom and I have to explain it to them.
Even when we have three doctors appointments, a support visit, and a team meeting all in the same day.
Even when changes to visit schedules that are not communicated makes the child scream for hours multiple days in a row.
I will keep saying yes even when my feelings or opinions don’t matter, because I am just the foster mom.
I will continue to say yes even when I am invisible and insignificant.
Even when the system fails my kids, I will still say yes.
When every ounce of hope I ever had in humans is destroyed, I will say yes.
Even when our efforts and time go unnoticed.
Even when my cheeks are tear stained and my body is tired.
Even when I am judged for being a white mom with biracial or black kids. Even when those beautiful children are stared at or not welcome even in a church nursery.
I will keep saying yes despite the judgement when I say my kids are only ten months apart.
Even when I have to document a child’s every move to protect my family from false accusations.
Even when my very young child only has five minutes to eat lunch at daycare, because visits can’t be changed even ten minutes to give them more time to eat.
Even when people are rude and disrespectful.
Even when I have to ask permission to do anything with and for the children in my home.
Even when I can’t bring a sick child to the doctor, because I can’t get in touch with anyone for consent.
Even when you go months without an update and have no idea what is going on.
Even when you are given the child’s wrong name and call them that for the first three days they live with you.
Even when my reimbursements are not paid for months and my bank account is without the thousands that should be there and money is tight. I will even say yes when you are called selfish for asking a second time for those receipts be paid.
Even when my husband is just as anxious as I am.
Even when I don’t have “mom-friends” and are never invited to mom’s groups because they don’t understand my world and I can’t relate to being a mom.
Even when we are lonely and isolated.
Even when we are overwhelmed and exhausted.
Even when I only sleep a few hours a night.
Even when I am called too emotional and too attached. I will still choose to say yes.
Even when saying yes means my heart will be broken or even shattered beyond repair.
We can’t quit.
We won’t quit.
Even when kids face trauma that could be avoided.
Even when things are hard.
The war is won but the fight is not yet over. We can’t quit because there is still little humans worth fighting for. It would be easier to quit, but we aren’t done.
There is so much left to do and despite the high cost of saying yes, we will continue. Not because we are saints, or heroes, or even really good people. Because we aren’t AT ALL.
We just said yes.
We won’t quit.
Koko
