How to Care for Kids if Adoption Isn't an Option

"As you go to take the Lord's Supper today," said our minister Sunday morning, "You'll notice slips of paper on the tables. Each one has the name of a girl who was kidnapped from her school in Nigeria and is still missing. During our communion time, please grab a few names, come back to your seat, and spend a few minutes praying for the girls you picked."

I made my way to the back of the room where our communion tables are always set up. After navigating the minefield of sharing the Lord's Supper with a three-year-old, I grabbed a name from the table, meandered around a bit, grabbed another, and headed back to our seats. 

I looked down at the slips of paper in my hand.

The last names matched.

I buried my face in the boy on my lap and prayed for these girls who may very well be sisters. I prayed for their strength, for their safety, for their future, and for their mom, in whose grief we've all cloaked ourselves over these past weeks. On Mother's Day, I was overwhelmed by what it means to share in the responsibility of motherhood--that their girls are our girls. 

We've been going through what I half-jokingly call the "impostor phase" of adoption. Kinder people call it the preliminary phase. We're taking a weekly class on adoptive/foster parenting, and we're the only ones in the class who lack--you know-- actual adopted or fostered kids. I've been peppering with questions anyone who has adopted kids and is a friend of a friend of a friend and will answer me. Between Google, emails, Facebook stalking, some informational meetings, and a few phone calls, I'm confident we've discovered every last outlet for adoption (or support thereof) in the state. I'm all up in it, you guys. I've got statistics and solutions coming out my nose.  I can head-tilt nod sympathetically when someone says the words "Reactive Attachment Disorder." I'm diagnosing my friends' adopted kids. My next tattoo is just going to be Karyn Purvis's face.
Get the picture? And yet here we are, with nothing but a couple of bio kids and a looming 30-page pre-application to a private agency, sort of just wandering aimlessly at the moment. It's kind of like window shopping. For orphans. 

But something's happening. The more I immerse myself in the fostering and adoptive community, the more I learn (Duh. I know. Stick with me.). The more I learn, the more I know about the people and the needs of this community. And the more I know about these people and their needs, the more passionate I become about helping. If we had been through the same exact process and yet had zero intention of adopting, I'm confident I still would come out fighting for the well-being of these kids. Because, as I'm sure we can all agree, some hills are universally worth dying on. (Someone smart I know said this once.) 

What I've learned over the past few months is this: You don't have to pursue foster care or adoption to be passionate about the subject. You aren't a faker if you want to learn everything there is to know about orphans across the globe for the simple reason that you just want to know. But with great power comes great responsibility. (Someone else said that.) Fortunately, there are endless ways we can care for orphans. Here are a few of my personal favorites:

Compassion International.  We've sponsored kids through Compassion for years. If you visit their homepage, you'll find a million ways to help kids in crisis. 

The CALL of Saline/Perry Counties. Two words: Underwear. Backpacks. The CALL is a foster care training and support nonprofit organization in Arkansas. One of their missions is a foster care closet in our area (where families can come gather supplies for free), and they are always in desperate need of new kids' undergarments and bags. There are several CALL branches across the state, and this is the one with which we've become most acquainted due to proximity to our house and because of a particular group home in the area that has captured our hearts. Speaking of which......

The Second Chance Youth Ranch. The Second Chance Ranch is a youth home for kids in the foster system and we love them and there's always something on their wish list and this is just a GREAT place. 

Thrive Ministry of Fellowship Bible Church in Little Rock. These are the precious people who dream of a network that transcends denominations, and they are the ones who have welcomed us despite the fact that we are adopted kid-challenged. In fact, their website says: "Thrive Foster/Adoption groups provide discipleship for those who care about the orphan. These groups are composed of those who are actually fostering or have adopted and for those who have a heart to help." Enough said. For more information about upcoming events and ways to get involved, email care@fellowshiponline.com.

Lucie's Place. Friends, I hand you this one with a fragile heart and gently invite you to expand your definition of the word "orphan." I'll best describe it by quoting their website:
In response to the disproportionate and overwhelming population of homeless LGBTQ young adults in Central Arkansas, the mission of Lucie's Place is to establish a transitional living program for homeless LGBTQ young adults, ages 18 to 25. The goal is to provide a safe home in which these young adults can find their footing while developing skills necessary for independent living.

Translation: A lot of kids get kicked out of their homes by parents who disapprove of their lifestyle, and then are subsequently turned away from the majority of homeless shelters (Did you know that most shelters in Little Rock are run by religious organizations?) for the same reason, leaving them with no place to go at a time when they are most vulnerable. Lucie's Place plans to open its doors later this year, but has plenty of hurdles to overcome and lots of immediate needs. This place has embedded itself in my soul, and I'm convinced Jesus is here. We may have different thoughts about homosexuality--surely we can agree that homelessness among youth in our own city is a problem that demands our humble attention.

May is National Foster Care Month. It's a time to remember the voiceless. It's a good month to remember the kids who need an advocate. And as surely as those girls are our girls, these kids who lack a home, who struggle for basic necessities, whose lives could be drastically improved by a small act on our part--these kids are our kids.

Our church is pretty small. It took all of us, together, to get it done. But Sunday morning, a hundred tiny cries joined together--and in that moment every one of our girls was remembered by name before God. From the other side of the world. Not by their parents......only by people who are willing to take up a cause, a little at a time, so injustice doesn't get the last word.

Mother's Day Rebellion

Confession: Mother's Day makes me cringe.

It's not that I don't appreciate the sentiment. I do. I love that I get to mother actual, human children. I love the family drawings with "Mom" scrawled above the stick figure with long hair. I love the fingerprint pictures and the freshly-planted flowers lovingly transported from preschool and presented on Mother's Day. I love being the one who's best at applying and removing band-aids, telling scary bedtime stories, and rinsing hair while maintaining a low water-to-eyeball ratio. To two precious souls I am the "Mama" in "Mama, look!", "Mama, help!", and "Mama, what IS this?!?" --and for this I fall on my face in gratitude before their maker. There is nothing on the face of this planet I would rather do than pour out my God-given instinct to nurture and protect upon the boys in my care.

But Mother's Day can be so TEDIOUS. I've never sat through a Mother's Day Sunday church service without looking around and seeing tears on the faces of other women. It's not enough to reason that being sad about not being a mother on Mother's Day is the equivalent of crying because you're a kindergartner at a college graduation. Mother's Day isn't about receiving recognition. It's about celebrating the act of motherhood. And we've pigeonholed what that means. I'm tired of hearing people I adore say that they skip church on Mother's Day because it's just too painful. My sisters--you precious people who have believed the lie that a mother is only a person who births children or raises them on a full-time basis. Why do we perpetuate this myth when Genesis 1 is arguably the most readily-accessible book in the Bible?

God spoke: "Let us make human beings in our image, make them reflecting our nature, so they can be responsible for the fish in the sea, the birds in the air, the cattle, and yes, Earth itself, and every animal that moves on the face of the Earth." (Genesis 1: 26, The Message)

I've been the crying chick in the church pew. I wish someone had taken my hands and said to me: Grieve. And know that mothering isn't just about being pregnant and having kids. God knows this. He created you for more. And he hasn't forgotten you.

This Mother's Day, I propose we change the rules.

Let's DO celebrate Motherhood. Let's honor the woman who treasures the environment, the Earth itself. Let's lift up the lady who fights for the rights of orphans. Let's give a bit of credit to the girl who saves stray animals from their suffering. Let's celebrate the woman who takes homeless and hurting people under her wing. Let's thank the gal who would give her last breath for the babies she brought into the world. Let's wrap our arms around the mom who is a mother in her heart and can't understand why she hasn't had the kids to prove this. Because really--Who among us is unaffected when nearly 300 girls are abducted by terrorists in one fell swoop? Who doesn't bat an eyelid when faced with the fact that nearly 19,000 kids under 5 die every day from preventable diseases? God has planted in each of us an instinct to protect, nurture, and love. What if Mother's Day becomes about affirming these qualities where we find them?

Look, ladies, we're all in this together. We are the caregivers, the resilient, responsible ones. We pour ourselves out for people without voices. We are the ones who are emotionally connected to this planet and its creatures. We feel it. We birth children, ideas, and endurance, and we bear the pain of it with dignity and grace. There's not a one of us who is greater than the other on Mother's Day. And we've got to support each other rather than alienate and draw lines, because frankly, those strong and awesome men aren't cut out for this stuff.

Here's to moms everywhere, kids or no kids.