Author: bmaloy

In light of the bizarre impact Coronavirus has had on the entire world. I have been reflecting about how trapped, frustrated & helpless so many people feel. In a weird way, it’s really not a foreign feeling for Foster Parents. It’s a daily reality, now it just has the added “joy” of a virus to make it more complex and widespread for everyone else.

Something I have become more and more convinced of the longer we’ve remained in the Foster Care system is this — the system sworn to protect and cherish children, that system itself causes trauma. It causes trauma for the children, the foster families, parents, everyone. Let me clarify, it is different trauma (likely) than what caused the move into Foster Care initially — but trauma nonetheless.

My initial reaction is to blame the system, condemn it & use it as the scapegoat for my frustrations when they arise. But the calmed down retrospective part of me knows that isn’t the answer. That said, the system is flawed, broken, slow, bogged down, bloated & wastes money. The system is not great. But on the other side, the system is a result of the brokenness in the world that it was created to handle. It (the system) is dealing with heartbreaking situations, problems & brokenness no one would ever want to wish upon their worst enemy. And as a result, because every situation, child, family & case is different — there is this unnecessary, yet unavoidable, tension between common sense and following every protocol.

So I guess the point in writing this is to ask myself a question. What is the Christlike response to feeling trapped, backed into a corner, helpless? If we Christians want to redeem & restore the brokenness in the world, as we are called to do, what does that look like in a messy & frustrating system (that we may or may not agree with)? What does it look like to not force our agenda, our will, our preferences — but to balance that with common sense and truly act in the BEST interest of others (including Foster Children)?

I keep asking myself this question because as a Foster Parent, I have never felt more powerless, hopeless and backed into a corner over the last few years. Now before you panic and question my faith in God’s sovereignty and faithfulness — remember, feelings aren’t always truth. Feelings can mislead, can be sinful & flawed. But regardless, we are emotional beings, and feelings are unavoidable. The trouble comes in how we react, how we process them and the actions we take. I want to react well in the face of feeling powerless, pushed around & trapped. I want to stand up with gracious boldness to face the uncertain, the unnecessary & the unfairness.

So, whether it’s questioning the brokenness of the system, or evaluating my response to the feeling of powerless waiting — what is the response that will help point to Christ, the response that can help restore brokenness, the response that minimizes the “trauma” of the Foster-world? What is the response that helps redeem the ugly broken world that our kids have no choice in floating through?

What does it look like to exist in and simultaneously seek to redeem a broken world? I pray about this a lot — and tonight while watching/singing songs with the kids, we listened to an old favorite, and it reminded me of an important place to rest in. Below is part of the Andrew Peterson’s song, “Dancing in the Minefields”:

“At the end of all my faith, till the end of my days
When I forget my name, remind me.
‘Cause we bear the light of the Son of Man,
So there’s nothing left to fear.
So I’ll walk with you in the shadowlands,
Till the shadows disappear.
‘Cause He promised not to leave us,
And his promises are true.”

It’s curious, but this too reminds me that in this world we will be uncertain of much, there is plenty to fear, we can always find something in which to be anxious about — but that’s ok. We bear the light of the Son of Man (Jesus), and we won’t have every answer, but we can keep walking and trusting — because the promises ARE true.

p.s. nothing horrible has happened, please don’t panic — just processing the realities of Foster Care and seeing the weird emotional similarities to COVID world. Even when life is beautiful, the kids are wonderful & life is full of blessing — Foster Care is hard & our goal in sharing our journey is to just share what families go through. So no need to worry or panic 🙂

Two years. Two years ago you made me a Dad.

You weren’t what I was expecting. But, you were perfect. You are perfect. I was scared, excited, anxious, hopeful, joyful & broken. But you were there — and I loved you from the moment you came home. Your Mom and I still catch ourselves weeping, momentarily unaware that we love you so much, and we are overcome by the feeling. You are home. Because of you, my children, I have learned more deeply than ever before what it means to be home.

I remember the morning you came — I was taking a shower, like normal — and singing in the shower, which I can’t do now (because you’ll wake up). And for whatever reason, the song I was singing caused me to tear up — now I know — my heart was being broken because you were coming home. And I needed to be broken of pride, self-confidence & perhaps self-reliance. God (in His infinite wisdom & providence) knew you were coming home, for the first time. And God knew that it would be the most wonderful & challenging season of life thus far. And any attempt to lean on my own wisdom, knowledge, cunning & pride would be my downfall —

Certainly I was in over my head. Which is why I believe God was preparing my heart that morning. Knowing that I MUST lean on God to be a good Dad, to lead our home well, to take on the seemingly crazy challenge of a baby & a toddler, only to have another baby come within a few months. To deal with the unexpected, terrifying & beautiful things to come.

But now we are here — 2 years later. You make me crazy, I am tired, money is less, house is a disaster — and I love every single moment. Every crazy night, unexplainable meltdown, cleaning food all over the floor, stepping on cars in the dark — worth it.

There is an Andrew Peterson song, Family Man (I’ve mentioned it before), and he has a line that goes, “And I don’t remember anymore, who I even was before…” — it’s simple, but it sums up the last 2 years. And I love it.

Dear Kids —

I hope you know how much your Dad loves you. The three of you make up 3/5 of the top five things I think about each day, and 99.9% of the time — it is paired with a smile. But never forget, your Dad loves you exactly as you are, forever.

This is my second Father’s Day being a Dad, of course I didn’t expect to go from 0 to 3 in 7 months, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love our story, I love the chaos, I love the giggles & the laughter, and I love the imperfections of everything. You are what makes our story perfect.

Every single night when I tuck you in, and we pray together (and pray for all the cute stuff you think of and long list of people you love) — I ask God to help me be a good Dad, and thank Him for letting me be your Dad and ask God every night to let me be your Daddy forever. Even though right now when I ask God to let me be your Daddy forever, I am thinking about how we long to adopt you and make it official forever — I will always want to be your Daddy, your safe place, your biggest encourager, your home. And that will not change once a piece of paper legally says I am your Daddy.

Children, I also want you to know this. You were not my Plan B. You weren’t the backup plan. You weren’t a side thought. You weren’t our last resort. You are God’s perfect plan. Some day we will tell you the story and all the threads we can now later see that God was weaving together for the perfect time — but God so clearly brought you here. It wasn’t conventional, but it’s beautiful. Your Daddy (and Mommy) love you more than you could know. God prepared our hearts at the right time when he knew you’d be ready to come home to us. And thank God for that. But never for a moment believe that you weren’t the plan. You were God’s plan, and you were my plan. Your Dad loves you more than he can convey.

Looking back on my life and honestly thinking, I have a lot to be thankful for & proud of. But when it comes right down to it — none of that big worldly stuff, or accomplishments, mean anything to me when I compare it to you. All that “stuff” pales in comparison. Watching you grow, helping to raise you in The Lord, is literally the best and most amazing, humbling, thing I have ever been allowed to be a part of. Getting to be your Dad is the best. Everything else could be stripped away — but being able to love you each day and help you discover the world brings me more joy than I ever thought possible.

There are so many other things I would love to say to you, but we’ll leave it here. I love each of you (all three) in your quirky and beautiful ways. I will always thank God I get to be your Dad. But this weekend, on Father’s Day — thank YOU for letting me be your Dad.

Love Always,

Your Dad

Something happens occasionally in Foster Parent life that is just weird. You’re not totally regarded as a “real parent”.

(Small disclaimer before you panic & worry you said something wrong today — haha NO! All is well, fret not.)

But every once in awhile, yet probably too often, small passing comments are made (very innocently I am sure) that imply the idea, “well you’re not a real parent…” — again, innocent, not meant to be harsh or condescending — it just strikes in an odd way. And the unfortunate part of it is, those are the very comments the Enemy (Satan) uses to rattle Foster Parents and make them feel less worthy, less valuable, less like “real parents”.

The plain simple truth is — that’s of course not true, especially for Foster Moms. And their hearts are certainly the ones that dearly need that constant assurance of their wonderful sacrifice, particularly when there isn’t as much certainty in their children’s futures. Something that most moms don’t have to worry about.

Reality is, Foster Moms are amazing. They give the love, the nurturing, the family & the home that children need. They give themselves to their children without the comfort of knowing if their kids will stay forever. And that is amazing. Foster Moms certainly shouldn’t be considered just Foster Moms, they are super-Moms.

And that’s what my kids Mom (my wife) is like. She is a super-Mom. She loves and protects and nurtures and adores our wild brood of kiddos with her whole heart. Even when unintentionally “tough to hear” comments come, even when the Enemy makes her feel less valuable & important — she gives her heart to our kids. And that makes her just as much a Mom regardless of the “legal status” of our kids. She loves her kids no matter what life throws at us. And thank God for her.

Here’s the honest truth. Foster Care is messy, and people don’t always know what to say, and that’s okay! Honestly sometimes we don’t know what to say either. This is where grace comes in. Thank God, literally.

We Foster Parents are blessed, blessed to be a blessing. And I have come to think that sharing our story is part of the attempt to bless others with all we’ve been blessed with through our precious kids. I am just beyond grateful my wife blesses me and the kids day after day after day.

We have been quiet on here for a long while. I think partially because we don’t feel we have anything worthwhile or wise to share — or we have so much churning inside us that we have a hard time decompressing long enough to make sense of it. I suppose that lack of time is partly the blessing/burden of Foster Care and part is probably the blessing/burden of 3 kids 2 & under. Foster Care alone or having 3 littles is enough to exhaust you emotionally, physically & spiritually — but combining both just seems unreal at times. To be fair, most times are wonderful — but it doesn’t negate the struggles entirely.

There is so much uncertainty in our lives, uncertainty that we cannot try to manipulate and move in the direction we know is best. There is a lot of injustice in the Foster Care System too — and contradictions, even that completely blow off normal common sense. But that is the “system” — and we as Foster Parents lack the ability to influence the process in ways that common sense would deem totally appropriate. Alas, we are left between the proverbial “rock and a hard place”. And some days it hits us hard.

That said, when comforting and tucking in our precious, brave, sweet little Goose for bed tonight & praying with her while holding her in my arms & rocking her back and forth — a simple reminder (we can safely assume divinely inspired) came to mind. In the Gospel of Mark, Chapter 9, there is a story about a father who comes to Jesus asking desperately for healing for his child. The father is at his end, he has no more cards to play, no tricks he can pull, no influence he can wield to get what he wants — he is desperate. Just like I feel at times, more often than not. The story goes on to the plea the father makes to Jesus — the father asks Jesus, IF HE CAN, to please heal his child. Jesus (we can assume) calmly replies, “If I can? Anything is possible to he who believes”. The man quickly blurts out, “I believe! Help my unbelief!”, and Jesus proceeds to heal the child.

I am thankful for being reminded of that story (which is incidentally one of my all time favorites — short as it is). I am thankful because it is how I feel many days, especially today. I am desperate, I am at my end, I lack the influence, the tricks & cards — I have nothing. I MUST rely on my Heavenly Father to intervene — and I do believe, but God, help my unbelief. I will falter on my own, I will stumble — I will not be strong of faith, I will lose hope, I will not believe without His help.

And oh how I want hope — oh how I want to believe. Lord, help my unbelief.

p.s. nothing is changing as far as we know — just hard days to walk through with littles that don’t always understand.