Fight or Flight-a Foster Kid's Response to Love

We had some unexpected turn of events the last few days.  The first was when we lost a foster kid that we cared very much for.  Our teenager left unexpectedly in the middle of the week without so much as a thank you or a goodbye note.  Although, there had been no problems and no "warnings" sometimes teens make decisions that we don't agree with or maybe decisions we don't like.  This past week our foster child made a decision to strike out on her own, via the bedroom window.  We tried to give her options and opportunities, but sometimes these kids only know one way and it has to be difficult to adjust to a way of life that seems so foreign.  If you put yourself in their place, imagine being left by your birth parents.  Can you imagine how it must feel the moment you first realize that your own mother has traded you in for the newest "honey" or the a drug that leaves her unable to parent.  Foster kids experience this at different ages.  Some kids are real young but just notice that every time Mom has a boyfriend, she disappears and a 5 year old is left to care of all the younger siblings.  5 year olds that feed and care for baby brother or baby sister.  5 year olds that change diapers (maybe) and make sure the toddling 2 year old is safe.  Or imagine being in court as a young teenager and having your Mom tell the Judge, "I don't want her."  Or maybe worse yet, how about just being a baby, left in the woods, unattended and left to die....how can you grow up to become an adjusted adult?  How do you grow up and one day decide that its normal to have people care about you.  Have people care about who your friends are, what you eat, what you do and how you do it?  Those are all learned behaviors, y'all, and if these behaviors are never learned, then you do what comes natural.  In the animal kingdom, they call it fight or flight.  I think out teen was left with that alternative and she chose flight.  Flight is easy. The path of least resistance is usually the most heavily travelled road.  If you know nothing else and you are scared, it's so much easier to go out the window.  No goodbyes.  No tears.  No lectures.  I try to put myself in her place but am unable.  My Mom cared.  My family cared.  I was loved, disciplined and held accountable.  I never had to wonder what someone might want from me if I cared about them. I loved and was loved in return. 

And this is how my three kids are raised. Sure, John may have some distant memories.  I hope he never forgets.  But I also hope he feels the same love and comfort and protection that I felt as a child.  I hope he feels a fraction of the security I know Presley feels. And Addy too.  She's the baby that was left to die. She probably (hopefully) has no memories of her past, but I want her to feel secure and loved.  I want her to trust and be trusted.  I want her to have all the same securities and confidence Presley has.  That I had as a child. 

It's a little sad to have a child leave our home like this.  I would almost feel as if I failed, but I know better.  (This is where that confidence comes in) I know that I gave 110% of myself and my family.  At our house, we mean it when we tell kids, "While you're here, you one of us!  You're a kind of Philpott too!"  David tells a lot of kids, we don't have "foster kids" we have "kids."  We tell them "you're one of us!" I know that we provided the material things, shoes, underwear, nice clothes, etc  and I also know that I offered prayer, advice and direction. 

You know what one of the hardest things to explain to a foster kid is?  Is how we can love them when no one else ever has.  How can we proclaim to "love" them when their own biological parents didn't?  I had a 10 year old boy ask us this one night before bed.  I had read him one of those childhood bedtime stories, the 3 Bears or 3 Little Pigs or something. He had never had a bedtime story read to him before.  I was in a race to read him as many as I could, because I didn't know if or when his season would end with us.  I tucked him into bed and David came in to tell  him goodnight.  The little boy asked the million dollar question..."How can you love me if my own Mom and Dad never loved me?"  For once, I was at a loss for words.  I looked to David for guidance.  David took a deep breath and swallowed hard and then he gave the only true answer, "I don't know.  We just do."  We do. We do just love these kids.  All of them.  All of them touch our hearts forever.  I really believe we touch theirs too.  We plant that seed.  We hope that maybe we can water it a little and maybe someone, somewhere down the road can add to that water.  Maybe they'll be lucky enough to go back home someday or be adopted into a forever family.  That little boy was adopted-he's our son. 

Please remember foster kids in your prayers.  Remember the teenage girl we no longer have. And remember all the foster families, the parents, the foster-siblings and those that support us through prayer and other means.