Four Girls Later

I had the realization this week that my worldview is quite different than most. I say this week, but that’s not really true. It was highlighted this week, yes, but this is something I’ve always known. I’ve always found my upbringing unique and it has shaped me in a way that I view the world very differently. 

I will try to keep it brief, as this subject I quite literally want to write a book on. It’s funny, I’m not sure why I want to write a book on it. I don’t know that it resonates with anyone or that my unique feelings add to the world at large, but there is something within me that wants to share it with my children. Maybe it’s just intended for that. 

My parents have been therapeutic foster parents since I can remember. The very word means treatment intended to relieve or heal a disorder. I can think of several definitions fitting for “disorder”, none of them like the first. 

This meant opening my life to a world where people are truly suffering. A place where abuse, neglect, mental illness, and complex needs reign. Understanding, seeing, and appreciating other cultures. It meant learning compassion. It meant knowing that things are often not what they seem. It meant learning that life is full of hardships and suffering and daily we make the choice to be a helper. It gave me a lens to see that those that have been hurt, often hurt. Those that wound, have often been wounded. 

From that vantage point it allowed me to have ears to hear others and eyes to see. I’ve seen children hiding under dining tables hissing as feral animals when they’ve spilled a drink because the previous response would be bound and chained. I’ve seen children that were forced to sit outside with a wet pull up on their head all day because they peed the bed, again. I’ve seen children covered in burns from their parents cigarette butts. I’ve seen children that were used as currency to fund drug addictions. I’ve seen things that to this day I still wouldn’t want to put to paper. 

This seeing gave me the ability to know, and knowing turned to love. I have been able to love others in a unique way because I was given a childhood that saw everyone as inherently worthy and valuable. 

Of course everything comes at a cost. This meant having to roll down the windows to get out of the car because someone in a fit of rage ripped all the handles off.  This meant at a pretty young age being aware of sexually reactive behaviors. This means a day for ice cream with grandkids ending in a police chase and spit shields. Or, simply an inability to comfortably go to the local pool because everyone else there didn’t understand a child with scarcity hoarding taking all of their child’s pool toys. This meant lying winded crying on the stairs from a punch to the stomach. This often meant living with realities that aren’t ideal, even if efforts were made immediately to correct or protect, they had already happened. 

It’s made me the kind of person that watches films like Sound Of Freedom and walks away devastated. Not just devastated by the realities of human trafficking, but devastated by the portrayal that everything will be okay now that the children are found and reunited with family. This can lead to furthering misunderstandings surrounding mental health and trauma. Those children that were taken, are gone, even though they’ve returned. With understanding, love, really hard work, compassion, and informed care they can begin to paint a new life incorporating healed parts of themselves. 

We are going to have to societally recognize that abnormal behaviors in response to abnormal events are actually normal, and those abnormal behaviors can be a real doozy. 

And yet, I find myself heartbroken that I’m not providing the same exposure to my children. I’ve always desired to help on a macro level, hence the public health background. I walk a very fine line between trying to pass understanding onto my kids and pure insanity. I have been known to share statistics regarding death rates and waterborne diseases to a kindergartner. It can’t just be me though, right?! As our kids fixate on Stanley water cups an estimated 1 million people are dying every year because of dirty water. 

I digress. 

The reality is though, we can have eyes to see others and ears to hear in any season of life or any social arena. At least this is the narrative I have to keep reminding myself. For me right now it means my husband, my kids, extended family, my children’s educators, the nurse we so frequently see during the never ending sick season, neighbors, classmates, and friends. The truth is there is never not an opportunity to show others love and compassion. 

I feel something new on the horizon for my family. I’m not sure what that looks like quite yet, but in truth it doesn’t matter, because I am in the now. Now, as a mother I look at educators and know the juggling they’re doing with IEPs, students at home with no supports, children with complex traumas, children with the most supportive parents in the world helpless at the lack of resources available to their complex kiddos, and all the other kids, too. Not to mention testing, accreditation, and all the other demands thrown their way. Does this mean that I won’t go to them for their expertise and support if my child is struggling, of course not. It does mean that I go full of gratitude and understanding that sometimes it’s possible my problem might not be the most pressing issue. 

Now, I take time to tell the nurse that’s transitioning into a new geriatric role what she has meant to our family over the last 6 years.

I try to love our neighbors that mean the world to my family. To get them cupcakes when the girls ask or buy the plant when it’s not in the budget because it’s our way of showing love, and it gives the girls a great excuse to go over and visit with some of their favorite people. 

Gosh, I don’t always get this right. I never know if I’m modeling it well or if I’m doing enough. I do know that my heart is to be the helper though, and the opportunities to help are always there. 

Shine your light. 

Xoxo,

Sara