Rise Each Time You Fall

 I wasn't able to sit in Sacrament Meeting for our own ward today because I had Stake business... which meant Joseph was on his own with the kids. I was a little distracted in my other meetings because I was so worried that it was going to be another one of those Sundays where our foster kids displayed their hatred for the Sabbath in every possible way, pushing and resisting, fighting and ignoring, squirming and sassing... you know--the whole nine yards. I just didn't want Joseph to have to deal with that by himself because it's so draining.

You can imagine how pleased I was to find out that everything went well. The foster kids did amazing this time! They got along, they sat still, they didn't complain, or fight, or throw tantrums, or make rude remarks. Even tonight went smoothly for bed.  My foster daughter didn't scream for an hour like she has been for the last couple weeks. She went straight up to bed without a fight. I rotated through each child, scratching all their backs for five or six minutes each. Everyone was contented and everyone went to sleep without a struggle. Wow!

Days like these are just enough incentive for us to keep going.

The Stake business I had to attend to today was another ward's conference.  Bishop Speckheart of that ward spoke first and read this poem. I was glad to be there to hear it because I felt like the words were so applicable for this journey my husband and I are on.  I couldn't stop the tears from streaming down my face. This poem was exactly what I needed! Absolutely perfect!

The Race
by, D.H. Groberg

“Quit! Give Up! You’re beaten!”
They shout at me and plead.
“There’s just too much against you now.
This time you can’t succeed.”

And as I start to hang my head
In front of failure’s face,
My downward fall is broken by
The memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will
As I recall that scene;
For just the thought of that short race
Rejuvenates my being.

A children’s race–young boys, young men–
How I remember well.
Excitement, sure! But also fear;
It wasn’t hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope
Each thought to win that race.
Or tie for first, or if not that,
At least take second place.

And fathers watched from off the side
Each cheering for his son.
And each boy hoped to show his dad
That he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went
Young hearts and hopes afire.
To win and be the hero there
Was each young boy’s desire.

And one boy in particular
Whose dad was in the crowd
Was running near the lead and thought:
“My dad will be so proud!”

But as they speeded down the field
Across a shallow dip,
The little boy who thought to win
Lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself
His hands flew out to brace,
And mid the laughter of the crowd
He fell flat on his face.

So down he fell and with him hope
–He couldn’t win it now–
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished
To disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up
And showed his anxious face,
Which to the boy so clearly said,
“Get up and win the race.”

He quickly rose, no damage done,
–Behind a bit, that’s all–
And ran with all his mind and might
To make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself
–To catch up and to win–
His mind went faster than his legs:
He slipped and fell again!

He wished then he had quit before
With only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now;
I shouldn’t try to race.”

But in the laughing crowd he searched
And found his father’s face;
That steady look which said again:
“Get up and win the race!”

So up he jumped to try again
–Ten yards behind the last–
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought,
“I’ve got to move real fast.”

Exerting everything he had
He regained eight or ten,
But trying so hard to catch the lead
He slipped and fell again!

Defeat! He lied there silently
–A tear dropped from his eye–
“There’s no sense running anymore;
Three strikes: I’m out! Why try!”

The will to rise had disappeared;
All hope had fled away;
So far behind, so error prone;
A loser all the way.

“I’ve lost, so what’s the use,” he thought
“I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad
Who soon he’d have to face.

“Get up,” an echo sounded low.
“Get up and take your place;
You were not meant for failure here.
Get up and win the race.”

With borrowed will "get up,” it said,
“You haven’t lost at all.
For winning is no more than this:
To rise each time you fall.”

So up he rose to run once more,
And with a new commit
He resolved that win or lose
At least he wouldn’t quit.

So far behind the others now,
–The most he’d ever been–
Still he gave it all he had
And ran as though to win.

Three times he’d fallen, stumbling;
Three times he rose again;
Too far behind to hope to win
He still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner
As he crossed the line first place.
Head high, and proud, and happy;
No falling, no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster
Crossed the line last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer,
For finishing the race.

And even though he came in last
With head bowed low, unproud,
You would have thought he’d won the race
To listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said,
“I didn’t do too well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said.
“You rose each time you fell.”

And now when things seem dark and hard
And difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy
Helps me in my race.

For all of life is like that race,
With ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win,
Is rise each time you fall.

“Quit! Give up! You’re beaten!”
They still shout in my face.
But another voice within me says:
“GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!”

Oh, how I needed this!

I went to lunch with my sisters-in-law this afternoon and they asked how things were going with foster care.  I told them that I really didn't know and that it was much harder than I had imagined. I get discouraged because I just haven't felt like I'm doing that great of a job.  These kids need someone who can see the hurt deep down inside of them and not take offense to every slight. They need someone who is willing to hold them and love them even when on the outside they are pushing everyone away. I just don't see myself as fulfilling those needs enough.

Tonight, my foster son asked if he could type in his journal on his laptop after I tucked him in bed.  I brought his computer in and said, "Sure, as long as you promise that you're not going to sneak games or YouTube videos in, you are very welcome to type in your journal." A little while later, he called me back to the bedroom. "I sent you something in a Google Doc."

"You did? What was it that you sent?"

"You'll see. Check your email."

"Right now?"

"Yeah, check your email. I want to watch you read it."

Now I was curious. I grabbed the phone and pulled open my email and read the following note:

I hugged him tightly and kissed him on the forehead. "Thank you so much! This was the sweetest thing you could have ever done. You don't realize how much this means to me. Thank you!" I kissed him again. He smiled bashfully and crawled back into bed. I wished him a good night and squeezed his hand tight. 

I think my foster son was inspired by the Spirit to write me this note tonight.  It came at a very good time. I really needed the encouragement.

-Alicia :)

First Goal of the Year

"Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy truth’s sake."

- Psalms 115:1 - KJV

"Don't give glory to us, O LORD. Don't give glory to us. Instead, give glory to your name because of your mercy and faithfulness."

- Psalms 115:1 - God's Word Translation

"Not to us, LORD, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness."

-Psalms 115:1 NIV Translation

This is such an awesome scripture!  I love this verse in all the versions of the Bible.  Can you imagine how different the world would look if we could only remember where all the credit and glory really belongs?  Can you imagine how much we would stop worrying about the opinions of others, for good or for ill... and focused on the One opinion that really matters most?

Even Christ--who deserves all the glory--said during His ministry,  " Why callest thou me good? there is none good but one, that is, God." - Mark 10:18

Elder Neal A. Maxwell observed,

Is there not deep humility in the omnicompetent Christ, the majestic Miracle Worker, who acknowledged, “I can of mine own self do nothing” (John 5:30)? Jesus neither misused nor doubted his power, but he was never confused about its source, either. Instead, we mortals—perhaps even when otherwise modest—are sometimes quite willing to display our accumulated accomplishments, as if we had done it all by ourselves. Hence this sobering reminder:

“And thou say in thine heart, My power and the might of mine hand hath gotten me this wealth.

But thou shalt remember the Lord thy God: for it is he that giveth thee power to get wealth, that he may establish his covenant which he sware unto thy fathers, as it is this day.[Deuteronomy 8:17–18]"

On another occasion Neal A. Maxwell recognized,

“Something I have heard President Hinckley do many times publicly is to give all the glory, the praise, and the honor to God. This is something I am going to do more often, including today, incorporating my appreciation for God’s tutoring and blessings.”

I think this is a fantastic place to start with a New Year’s resolution…  to always give credit where credit is due.  To be watchful and careful everyday that my motives are pure and not self-centered or self-aggrandizing. And when there is any praise given to me, I pray that I will be quick to acknowledge from Whom all blessings flow.

-Alicia

"Let not any passion be for kingdoms we have fashioned in our own name For our own fame... Let us not be fooled And let us not be disillusioned Let our eyes see You clearly... Anything that’s true Anything that’s good Let it point to You... Not to us" -Nichole Nordeman

Not Alone

These last couple of weeks have been so incredibly hard.  My foster daughter is an extremely stressed little three-year-old.  Her trauma is so intense that she's like a lighted fuse all day long. It takes the slightest event to set her off in full-blown aggression; she'll scream the most piercing scream, flail her arms, and kick the floor for twenty minutes straight.  I'll get her settled and then she'll want something else and explode again. When she's not throwing horrible tantrums she's clinging to my leg, sitting on my lap, or begging me to hold her in my arms.  It's like she knows she's been misbehaving and is extremely anxious her behavior will cause me to not want her with me anymore, so she panics and goes to the opposite end of the spectrum and clings so tightly.  It's hard because after all that acting out, I really don't want to even be around her, let alone hold her.

Her melt-downs are like an addiction, a habit she can't seem to kick. I've never been so exhausted in my life.  My oldest son had tantrums that were pretty bad where he would make himself vomit but even though those were difficult to deal with, these ones with my foster daughter are so much worse!

My husband has been checking on me everyday from work.  He's worried for me because he too understands the intensity of our situation.  He gave me a blessing Sunday night.  We actually had the foster kids go to a neighbor's house Sunday so we could have a family counsel with just our bio- kids. We can see that foster care is wearing them down too.  The all said they want to quit.  I don't blame them.  They've been so good through all of this though, and they've showed incredible patience.  We decided as a family that we're going to keep going for a little longer and just take things one day at a time.

I spoke with the children's therapist yesterday.  I explained how awful this has been. After diagnosis, they've increased the children's trauma levels. The therapist been working in the foster care system for 20 years and has dealt with hundreds of cases.  She listened to everything I could tell her for nearly 40 minutes.  As I described the hellish circumstances, she nodded her head sympathetically and said, "Welcome to the new normal. It may even get harder from here. That's why there is such a high turn-over rate if foster parenting.  But what I've seen with you, these children are doing so much better than they were, so much better!" Somehow, I found comfort speaking with her even though I know things are still going to be hard. 

I've discovered that this whole ward I moved into helped raise these kids for two months, it wasn't just the one couple.  I don't know how many people have come up to me at church who have said they had the children stay at their house for a day or so.  They must have been watched by at least ten different families in that short time (maybe there was a sign-up sheet being rotated around, I don't know). One woman, after Sacrament Meeting last Sunday, looked me straight in the eye and asked how I was doing.  Tears began to flow and I described the difficulties with the children I was having, especially the younger one.  She hugged me and said, "We had them only for a day or two and I know exactly what you're talking about. I can't even imagine what it must be like for longer than that." 

I don't know how many foster parents who have the luxury that we do. We are surrounded by a neighborhood who has helped carry the crushing weight and who understands our circumstances first-hand. I'm comforted to know that we don't have to do this alone.

-Alicia

A Little Encouragement

I have prayed all this week for the Lord to bless me with a calm spirit, to not feel overwhelmed, and to be able to take all the adjustments and anxieties that come with being a foster mom moment by moment.  I really feel like that my prayer has been answered; because this week has only gotten crazier and busier than when it first started out...  But I feel like I've been okay.

My foster son's behavior and habits still remain extremely difficult--making it hard for me to have feelings of compassion, bonding or patience--yet, the Lord has blessed me to stay calm through it all. In the last 48 hours, I took the foster children to their therapist, had a visit with their social worker, did a team meeting with the children's attorney, and went to my foster son's parent-teacher conference.  None of these things overwhelmed me, in fact I felt encouraged by them; because each of the people I met with, said they can already see significant progress with the children after one week. Knowing this makes it worth it.

-Alicia

Miriam made this the other day in Young Women's .
I love this quote! Nice choice, Miriam. Very nice choice!

"One such little child"... or two

Last Sunday, I slipped into the back of the primary room and watched him as he interacted with his teacher. The boy is one year younger than my second son and probably twice as heavy--an adorably pudgy kid with dark hair, tan skin, and almond-shaped eyes.  His white collar Sunday shirt was untucked from his black slacks that were rolled up to show off his long striped socks and Air Jordan shoes.  He rarely sat still during the class and occasionally made spontaneous outbursts of animal noises. From what the other ward members had told me, his behavior has made tremendous progress since mid July, when he first began living with the young newly married couple.

He didn't notice me sitting in the back of the room... and even if he had glanced over, he wouldn't have thought anything of me being there.  He hadn't been told about me yet, even though his social worker has been working with my resource counselor to place him and his little sister in our home.

I started imagining him living with us and wondered how all of my own children would interact with him, especially my younger son, who would be his new roommate.  Fears of personality clashes, emotional adjustments, and the huge upheaval of lifestyle change for my 11-yr. old began to nag at me:  "Micah is extremely compassionate and very giving. He loves to help others but will tuck tail and run if they are ever mean--he's terribly sensitive when someone is rude to him. He's the most flexible of all of my children yet, I don't want this situation to break him or be too much for him." I continued to question, "What are we doing? Are we asking too much of all of our kids to bring these foster children in our home?" I took a deep breath and tried not to let my worries plague my mind.

I stepped out of the primary room and finished up the rest of the hour in Relief Society.  After our church services were over, I had to head down the street to watch a primary program in a neighboring ward.  It was my second program I was scheduled to watch that Sunday.

I arrived at the other church 15 minutes early.  With all my fears still weighing on me, I decided to find an empty classroom where I could just pray and study the scriptures before the program began.  Tears rolled down my face as I pled for strength to accomplish this mission God has called us to.  It will be hard for our whole family. I question my own abilities. Sometimes, I shake my head in disbelief, "Lord, why on earth do you think I can do this? I am so far from the kind of mother I want to be with my own biological children. How can I be a good mother to someone else's?" I flipped through the pages in my Bible and read, "Whoso shall receive one such little child in My name receiveth Me." (Matthew 18:5) I knew it was true!

It doesn't matter who these children belong to. Any child that comes to my home needs to know that I would receive them as if they were the Savior, Himself. I know that God's hand has been in all of this.  I do not doubt that He sent us to this very specific place because of this boy and this girl.

It was the perfect day for me to read the scripture in Matthew because at the end of both primary programs--the morning and the afternoon, the Bishop from each ward shared his testimony and quoted from the verses previous,  "And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, and said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18:2-4) Comfortingly, I said to myself, "This is His work.  This is His work."

The caretaker of the foster children from my ward called me this past week and asked if I'd watch the two kids while they were on fall break.  I took them during the day for three days.  It has been good for all of us to meet them, to spend time with them.  Now they know we're foster parents.  I was surprised to see the boy was already quite familiar with our home.  He began to name where all the furniture used to be from the previous owners.  I guess his mother was friends with the woman we bought our home from and he had been here several times with her.

This weekend, we did respite care again for a nine-yr. old girl and her baby brother.  (We've watched them twice before.) There was an overlap where we had them and the two foster children who are getting placed with us--making four foster kids total in our home. Micah and Miriam also had a friend visiting for a good chunk of the day, adding two more kids to the mix. I didn't feel overwhelmed by all the children though, in fact I had more energy than I had all week long.  It was a definite tender mercy. These are the kinds of little miracles I'll need and I'll be expecting to carry us through in the future.

Today, I saw the foster children at church again.  But this time they knew me. They smiled shyly and waved from the bench across the row.  They are good kids and I can feel my heart open to them. Their caretaker is going to break the news to them this week that they'll be living with us. I don't know how long it will be before the children are placed in our home permanently--I imagine it will be less than a month.  I hope to be able to stay on top of my schoolwork because I'm so close to finishing this semester.  I continue to pray for strength beyond my own.  I pray for my husband, for my children, that we all will be able to unite through this effort and draw closer.  This is not a small undertaking.  Sometimes, I'm terrified, absolutely terrified... but we're still moving ahead... one foot in front of the other.

"[We] can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth [us]."- Philippians 4:13

-Alicia :)

Why Are We Here?

Tender Mercies

There has been plenty of things to attend to as we've adjusted to this move.  Our schedules have been full of errands and projects.  We've lived in an apartment for so long that we've had to start from scratch with lots of the typical things, like yard supplies and maintenance tools.  Home Depot is destined to become our new hang-out place.

Yesterday, there was so much to be done.  I wasn't quite sure how I'd find time to write my paper for my rhetoric class but I was blessed to have it come together much more rapidly than I expected. I have a very strict no-homework policy on Sundays, so anything due on Monday is something I need to get  done by Saturday night at the latest.  I ended up completing everything for school Friday afternoon which left me plenty of time to just bear down and work on several of our most urgent needs.

We pounded through all our work and were able to enjoy some fun time watching BYU football's homecoming game Friday night and the homecoming parade this morning.

When we arrived back at the house, Joseph and I spent several more hours getting our place in order.  Joseph's sister donated her old broken lawn mower to add to our sparse yard tool collection. We gratefully accepted it with the hopes that we could figure out how to get it up and running again. With all the other repairs we've had to pay for, we didn't want to take the mower to a shop.  After all, how hard can it be to fix a tiny little engine like that?  I cleaned out all the cobwebs and crusted grass that had hardened to the body of the machine.  I changed the oil, the air filter, the spark plug, and cleaned out the carburetor.  It was my first lawn mower repair ever and I did it!! It starts and runs perfectly every time!  I felt very proud and very blessed.  I know it was a complete tender mercy that I was able to do that.

I was also able to locate what was leaking in our van and patch up the hose.  (I'm so grateful that when I was growing up, my brothers taught me not to be afraid of a few simple mechanical jobs.)

These are just a some of many blessings these past few days.  And I don't believe they have been coincidences.  I know that God grants us with wisdom and ideas, ability and strength, often in very unexpected areas but always at just the right moment.

-Alicia

"The Lord’s tender mercies are the very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ. Truly, the Lord suits “his mercies according to the conditions of the children of men (D&C 46:15).

I testify that the tender mercies of the Lord are real and that they do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence. Often, the Lord’s timing of His tender mercies helps us to both discern and acknowledge them." - Elder David A. Bednar