Yesterday, an acquaintance of mine told me that she thought I was "crazy" for wanting to be a foster parent. She is someone I've talked to frequently and, until her comment, someone that I had assumed was supportive of fostering in general and our plans to foster specifically. Her remark, said with a smile and a laugh, took me aback. Let me be clear: she is a sweet woman, who is kind, smart and insightful. Her rationale (that we are already raising a healthy, well-adjusted child in Pom and shouldn't risk messing that up) was her own and she's entitled to it. It just got me thinking...I wonder how many other friends and family members aren't so much "supportive" of our plans as they are "silent" about their reservations?
This was the first time I've been out-right called "crazy" for wanting to foster. I'm generally a "can do" personality, so I can kind of see where Team Crazy would think that I'm approaching this endeavor a bit too optimistically. They hear horror stories of children in care with major behavioral, emotional and psychiatric problems- stories of violence, molestation, destruction- and they wonder who in their right mind would invite that into their homes. "Why borrow trouble?" is the catchphrase of Team Crazy.
It's true that you have to be willing to assume a certain degree of risk when becoming a foster parent. That became crystal clear to me when the Orientation presenter informed us that "its not IF you'll be the subject of a special investigation...it's WHEN." You might know a great deal about the child you're welcoming into your home. Or, you might not know anything beyond their name and what caused them to be ripped away from their birth family: a sudden and profound trauma in and of itself. Why would anyone willingly open their door to that level of uncertainty, scrutiny, oversight, chaos, heartbreak...to a foster child? Why would someone be so stupid?
According to the dictionary, stupidity is "a poor ability to understand or to profit from experience." Hmmm....well, goodness knows I have a LOT of experience! I've experienced violence, fear, trauma, loss, homelessness, injustice and hostility. In fact, I've survived some of the same traumas that my future foster children will have been through. Not all- not by a long shot- but enough to empathize. Thankfully, I've also experienced joy, acceptance, love, passion, community, faith and freedom. But have I been able to profit from these experiences? And what do they have to do with foster parenting?
I think that our friends and family members who fall into Team Stupid are afraid that we're going to be in over our heads- that our notion of what fostering will be is too idealistic or short-sided. Unlike Team Crazy, who thinks that we are opening ourselves up to negative (and potentially dangerous) situations that they would not want for themselves; Team Stupid is afraid that we don't know what we're getting ourselves into at all. In some ways, they're right. No one can predict the future, and it's ALWAYS easier to work with the kinds of kids that I do when you know you get to walk away at the end of the session.
To my mind, the answer to Team Stupid's concerns is the fact that I *have* profited from my experiences:
Our family is very much aware of the fact that there are challenges and experiences coming that we can't prepare for:
And sure maybe we're a tiny bit of both right now. You almost have to be to make the leap into foster parenthood. But that's not the whole picture. There's one factor that people don't yet see: LOVE.
One of my favorite midrashim is about the Ark of the Covenant, an artifact that is often described as the throne of God. The Rabbis ask each other "why do the angels on the ark face each other?"
I think that our friends and family members who fall into Team Stupid are afraid that we're going to be in over our heads- that our notion of what fostering will be is too idealistic or short-sided. Unlike Team Crazy, who thinks that we are opening ourselves up to negative (and potentially dangerous) situations that they would not want for themselves; Team Stupid is afraid that we don't know what we're getting ourselves into at all. In some ways, they're right. No one can predict the future, and it's ALWAYS easier to work with the kinds of kids that I do when you know you get to walk away at the end of the session.
To my mind, the answer to Team Stupid's concerns is the fact that I *have* profited from my experiences:
- My encounters with PTSD and addiction in relatives have taught me how to remain calm when I'm scared and how to seek help from others (individuals and institutions) when it becomes clear that intervention is needed.
- My work as a Victim Advocate has prepared me to respond to those coping the trauma, to work with "The System" and to advocate for the needs of myself and others when The System appears to break down.
- My mediation training has given me the skill to remain neutral when confronted with hostility, to problem solve and build bridges when people disagree, and to write EVERYTHING down.
- Finally, my work with high-risk children has given me ample opportunity to observe children with a variety of abilities and disabilities, from every possible background, and in many types of homes. I've interacted with them, built rapport with them, and worked with their families to identify their strengths and develop parenting and therapeutic strategies that build upon those strengths.
Our family is very much aware of the fact that there are challenges and experiences coming that we can't prepare for:
- The first time a foster child arrives into our care.
- The end of every honeymoon phase.
- A false allegation of abuse or neglect being levied against us.
- Falling in love with a child we know will someday leave.
And sure maybe we're a tiny bit of both right now. You almost have to be to make the leap into foster parenthood. But that's not the whole picture. There's one factor that people don't yet see: LOVE.
The answer they came up with is one of the most beautiful ideas I've ever encountered. They teach us that the angels are placed in that position to emphasize to us that God dwells in the space where our eyes meet someone else's. The most holy space on earth is that moment of connection between two people. That simple concept is the essence of my theology. It's also a huge part of why I want to be a foster parent.
I am not a religious person. My faith is important to me and I attend Shabbat and Yom Tov services regularly. But I am not particularly observant or inclined towards the supernatural. My religion manifests in my relationships with other people. I believe that we are closest to divinity when we are actively working to make someone else's life a little better, a little easier, a little less cruel. That's why I chose the career that I did. That's why I vote the way I do. And that's why I (and yes, my husband too) want to welcome these children that so few others want, into our home and our lives. Because to do so is an expression of faith and an act of love.
I'm not talking about compulsive altruism. I've got pretty healthy boundaries and a clear understanding of what I can and can't do for others. I don't think I'm some kind of tzaddik, either. I'm aware of my many flaws and try to work on self-improvement. Even as I write this, I worry that it could be misconstrued as self-aggrandizing or narcissistic. But the simple fact is that the reason why we- why *I*- want to foster is because my faith is expressed by the love I am able to offer others. Am I perfect? Far from! I can think of many situations where love is not my first response. That's why it's important that I do what I can, as much as I can...because I am mindful of the ways in which I fail to live up to my own standards.
Rachel Vincent wrote "There's a good kind of crazy...It's the kind that makes you think about things that make your head hurt, because not thinking about them is the coward's way out. The kind that makes you touch people who bruise your soul, just because they need to be touched. This is the kind of crazy that lets you stare out into the darkness and rage at eternity, while it stares back at you, ready to swallow you whole."
That's a crazy kind of love, and it's not a love everyone can offer. For some, the idea of that kind of connection is terrifying. I believe that everyone has a limit to their abilities; but that as a whole, humanity balances each other out. I can't donate blood...it's terrifying to me, and I rely on others to do what I simply can't bring myself to experience. But confronting trauma, staring down violence, bearing witness to suffering? For me, it comes easily. I've built a career, a faith, and a life on that kind of crazy, stupid, love. I'm fostering because I can. And because I can, I must.
I am not a religious person. My faith is important to me and I attend Shabbat and Yom Tov services regularly. But I am not particularly observant or inclined towards the supernatural. My religion manifests in my relationships with other people. I believe that we are closest to divinity when we are actively working to make someone else's life a little better, a little easier, a little less cruel. That's why I chose the career that I did. That's why I vote the way I do. And that's why I (and yes, my husband too) want to welcome these children that so few others want, into our home and our lives. Because to do so is an expression of faith and an act of love.
I'm not talking about compulsive altruism. I've got pretty healthy boundaries and a clear understanding of what I can and can't do for others. I don't think I'm some kind of tzaddik, either. I'm aware of my many flaws and try to work on self-improvement. Even as I write this, I worry that it could be misconstrued as self-aggrandizing or narcissistic. But the simple fact is that the reason why we- why *I*- want to foster is because my faith is expressed by the love I am able to offer others. Am I perfect? Far from! I can think of many situations where love is not my first response. That's why it's important that I do what I can, as much as I can...because I am mindful of the ways in which I fail to live up to my own standards.
Rachel Vincent wrote "There's a good kind of crazy...It's the kind that makes you think about things that make your head hurt, because not thinking about them is the coward's way out. The kind that makes you touch people who bruise your soul, just because they need to be touched. This is the kind of crazy that lets you stare out into the darkness and rage at eternity, while it stares back at you, ready to swallow you whole."
That's a crazy kind of love, and it's not a love everyone can offer. For some, the idea of that kind of connection is terrifying. I believe that everyone has a limit to their abilities; but that as a whole, humanity balances each other out. I can't donate blood...it's terrifying to me, and I rely on others to do what I simply can't bring myself to experience. But confronting trauma, staring down violence, bearing witness to suffering? For me, it comes easily. I've built a career, a faith, and a life on that kind of crazy, stupid, love. I'm fostering because I can. And because I can, I must.
There may be Team Crazy and Team Stupid but Team Love conquers all. As a part of that team I can say that I am excited to walk beside you in this journey and see all of the crazy, difficult, scary, challenging, and beautiful things that are yet to come.
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