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Fragile Strangers: Our Part in the Restoration Story

My youth ministry journey actually began a few years before I was born. In 1969, my father worked for Hallmark Cards in Kansas City and my mom ran a home daycare. One day, a man called to ask about overnight childcare for his three children. My mom agreed to keep them for 24 hours. A day turned into almost a week with no word from the kids' parents. To complicate the situation, one of the children became seriously ill and required medical attention. Since the parents didn't respond to repeated messages, my mom and dad called their family doctor who in turn contacted Family Services about possible abandonment. That phone call was the beginning of a defining era in my life story.

The foster care system was overwhelmed with home placement needs at the time, so my parents were asked if they'd be willing to keep the three children. They said yes. For the next 18 years, over 80 children lived with my family. Some stayed for just a few days; others stayed for years. It was during these years of growing up with children and teenagers whose lives were damaged by abuse and neglect, fragmented by instability, and vulnerable to selfdestruction that God branded my heart for them. I became intimately connected to young lives at the mercy of their families' brokenness and failures—and even the good intentions of an imperfect foster care system. The kids who grew up alongside me, by no fault of their own, had endured significant emotional and physical pain. Many of them were in survival mode—clinging to a waning hope that faded just a little more each time they were let down, let go, or left alone.

Fast forward three decades to find me in my 12th year of youth ministry, with memories of those kids embedded in each moment of teaching and leading. I know there are startling numbers of them out there that are abruptly taken to shelters where no one knows their names, then sent to live in temporary homes. But I rarely come in contact with these kids through church ministry. It makes me wonder if we're reaching them. Is there a way for the church to help the foster care system meet the needs of at-risk children? Maybe my story can help further the conversation.

FYI: Foster Care History

Foster care hasn't always been the mainstay of caring for dependent children in America. In the late 1700s, orphanages began to be established across the U.S., mostly by religious organizations. Sometimes these homes sprung up in response to epidemics like yellow fever, as well as in response to the needs of immigrants who couldn't financially support their children (Alone in the World, Reef). By the mid-1800s, it was clear that most orphanages couldn't keep up with the tremendous growth of children on the streets. So, a minister named Charles Loring Brace of the Children's Aid Society began to address the needs of immigrant children sleeping on the streets of New York City. People in the South and West were invited to provide room and board for these children as an act of charity or in return for some help the children could provide. Children found refuge from life on the street, but in some cases, they became a servant in their new "home." Foster care programs eventually came under the supervision of states and the federal government in the early 1900s. Foster caregivers were reimbursed for the services they provided (www.nfpainc.org).

Now foster care is the nation's most common response to children without a home. In 2002, over 500,000 children were in foster care throughout the U.S., and nearly half (47%) of all of those were adolescents. Case workers are overwhelmed with so many case loads that they cannot possibly give adequate care and attention to each one. The numbers of children in foster care annually since 1980 have increased by over 200,000 (www.acf.hhs.gov/programs/cb).

Unfortunately, the increase in the number of foster homes hasn't kept up with the number of children entering the system, so temporary shelters are at or over capacity most of the time. Adolescent foster kids seem to be even more at risk, because their age makes placement a challenge and they usually carry more emotional and behavioral baggage.

Foster care in the U.S. is a system desperately in need of help and repair. State and local governments have the charge to provide refuge and care for children in compromised family circumstances, but a government agency cannot accomplish this seemingly insurmountable task without people caring enough to get involved.

What Their Stories Tell Us

Tonya

Tonya's mom kicked her out. She had a troubled childhood, which led to troubled, rebellious teenage years. When she arrived home from school one day, her packed bags were parked on the front porch and her mom was nowhere to be found. The Department of Human Services picked her up, and eventually Tonya came to live with my family. When I met her, I was in 7th grade. She was in 9th and totally looked the part of a junior high rebel. She wore an old, black leather coat that perfectly matched her black jeans, black shirt, and thick black eyeliner. She walked tough, looked mean, and smoked like she'd been puffing on cigarettes since she was five. To say the least, I was terrified of her! She was so angry—at everyone and everything. It wasn't long before I began to understand the reasons for her anger. Her family history included emotional neglect, violence, and sexual abuse.

She lived with us for almost three years. The early days were tense, because my parents set boundaries, curtailed her smoking, gave her responsibilities, and enforced a curfew. But she became a part of our family. She was one of four teenage foster girls living at my house while I was a teen. You should've seen the fight for the bathroom every morning before school— these were the days of big hair and lots of eye shadow, so mirror time was precious! Through it all, we became friends.

I remember a shopping trip to the mall when we ran into one of Tonya's friends, and she introduced all of us as her sisters. She began to feel secure in our home, her grades improved, and she began to understand God's love for her life. Change was occurring. Hope was returning.

I don't know where Tonya is today. My father's employer transferred our family before she finished high school. I'm sure that loss unraveled some of her successes. She had a son when she was 18 and moved to Denver to be near our family. My parents helped her get started in an apartment and a job. About three months later, she left town with no goodbyes. She aged out of foster care, and when she did, life may have just seemed too much, too big, and too hard.

Foster kids don't choose to be at risk. Someone else puts them at risk, and that damage is hard to undo. The adolescent experience for a teen with a "normal" life is hard enough, but these kids deal with all the natural angst and emotional upheaval of adolescence in addition to being removed from their homes because of the maltreatment or illegal activities of their parents. They go to a strange place with no assurances of what the future holds. They have tremendous emotional and behavioral problems (who wouldn't?), which sometimes can affect even their placement in foster homes, since most caregivers don't want a behavior problem.

They usually come into foster care having witnessed family violence and risky sexual behavior at the very least. In the worst circumstances, they have been victims of physical or sexual abuse themselves. These distorted images of intimate relationships inevitably set foster kids up for a pattern of risky and violent behaviors in their own lives. If their parents' rights are terminated, they are less likely to have the option of adoption, since most people considering adoption prefer a younger child.

Because adolescents are less likely to be adopted, they face the unique and disturbing challenge of aging out of foster care when they turn 18. That means that when most kids are celebrating high school graduation with their family and friends and joyfully anticipating college and independence, 18-year-old foster kids can face incredible odds about the future with no family resources and a limited support system to rely on for encouragement and direction. Foster kids who age out are at a higher risk for unfinished education, low income jobs, emotional struggles, substance abuse, and criminal activities that hinder their adjustment to adult life (www.childtrends.org).

Deanna

I've known Deanna since first grade. We were in several classes together throughout elementary school, and she lived in the apartment complex right behind my house. We often walked home together because we were going the same direction. One day, Deanna was incredibly scared to go home and show her parents her report card. I asked why, and she replied that her father would beat her when he saw the bad grades. When she met up with me on the way to school the next morning, I asked her what had happened. She showed me the bruises and markings on her backside and I convinced her to go to the school nurse when we arrived on campus. Deanna was living at our house the next week. We celebrated our 12- year-old birthday party together and began a friendship that has lasted to this day.

She has never been able to reconcile with her biological parents, so she calls my parents Mom and Dad. She, like Tonya, also had to endure our family moving away, and her last few years of high school weren't easy. She also had a baby in her late teens, and her first marriage was to an abusive man much like her father. But I believe that Deanna's rescue from a cruel, unloving home in 6th grade was a radical turning point.

She lived with us for five years and during that time, Deanna witnessed and experienced unconditional love, heard encouraging words, and began to see herself as someone of worth and beauty. Those years gave her the strength to fight hard for a good, healthy life—and she did. Just a few weeks ago, our birthday cards to each other crossed paths in the mail. She is married to a loving and supportive husband and has a huge, beautiful family and a thriving career.

Sometimes the maltreatment of children isn't on the far side of town but right in our own neighborhoods. Deanna was frequently teased at school, and even teachers would become exasperated with her because she had an uncanny ability to tell wild stories. I wasn't exactly nice to her when we were younger, either. Yet no one asked why she might be telling fantastic tales instead of the truth. No one wondered why she struggled in school. No one noticed that she seemed to be scared and lack confidence. It all began to make sense as her story of abuse unfolded.

Jonathan

The most precious and painful memories I have of living with foster children are mingled together in the story of one little boy whose name was Jonathan. He was the son of one of the teenage foster girls who came to live with us. Liz, Jonathan's mom, became pregnant just before her senior year of high school. Because she'd done so well in the midst of so many life obstacles, my parents offered to let her continue living with us after Jonathan was born so she could start classes at the local junior college.

It wasn't long before Liz began skipping work and staying out all night. My parents found drugs in her car and discovered that Jonathan's father was out of the picture because Liz had a new boyfriend. She left our home when Jonathan was eight months old, and we didn't see her for almost a year, when she returned to town for a hearing about her parental rights. For reasons I'll never understand, the judge awarded immediate custody of Jonathan back to Liz, and suddenly our family was turned upside down. My parents were given just a few hours to pack his bags and deliver him to the DHS office that afternoon. He didn't recognize his mother, and he didn't know why my father had to put him in the arms of a caseworker and walk away. We never saw him again.

That's just the kind of experience everyone who thinks about becoming a foster parent wants to avoid. I've heard people say that they couldn't bear to form a strong attachment to a child and then have to abruptly say goodbye. But I believe that regardless of how painful the goodbye is, the hello and everything in between can be life changing. In order to make a difference, our motto should be: Our pain for their gain. We must be willing to emotionally invest in children we may not be able to help forever, trusting God to continue to work in their lives when they leave us.

Walk the Difficult Road with Them

There are so many ways the church can come alongside the foster care system and help it take care of children in need. From experiences in my own congregation to stories I've heard about how other churches are lending a hand, we can help foster kids down the difficult road they must travel.

One of the best ways to help is to contact a local children's shelter. The Laura Dester Shelter here in Tulsa is where children go before they're placed in a foster home. Its capacity is usually around 38 kids, but the number of children there at one time has soared as high as 90. Children are only supposed to spend 24 hours at the shelter, but for some it becomes their temporary home. The shelter needs volunteers to hold, feed, and rock addicted newborns who've been taken from a mom with drug problems. The last time I was there, I counted eight newborns that were no more than two weeks old. They need help with tutoring and recreation for the older kids. They need people to comfort and encourage the ones who are confused and scared. They need people who are willing to be on call for when the shelter is suddenly over capacity. The shelter has never declined our offer to show up and help. I often take students there to serve because teens are naturals at playing with the little kids and cuddling the babies. It's an eyeopening introduction to this world of need.

A way to be more permanently involved in the lives of foster children is to become a mentor. It's possible for kids to live in several group residences or foster homes before they're adopted, age out, or go home. A mentor can provide a stable, consistent relationship even when homes and situations change. If a church were to start a foster kid mentor program, a person or family could commit to being involved in the life of one foster child for an extended length of time. The ability of a foster kid to succeed in spite of the obstacles placed in her path will be directly related to how many adults take a personal interest and concern in her life. So if a foster child not only has her foster parents but also a mentor and that mentor's whole congregation affirming her, helping her, and cheering her on, she can rest in the knowledge that she has the emotional and spiritual support she needs, anytime she needs it, no matter where she is.

In addition, if she does go home, the church has an immediate ability to reach out and help the family continue on a path to healing and wholeness. There's even a new movement in foster care in which foster parents can mentor birth parents when reunification is a possibility. This gives the child and birth parents the sense that everyone is working toward what's best for the child.

One of the things the church can do for foster kids that the state agencies cannot is help them explore their spiritual questions. Although it would need to be voluntary for foster kids, churches could partner with the state to offer free, optional 12-step programs, counseling, and support groups for adolescents. This would be available for students in foster care who want the option of going through counseling or treatment with a spiritual dimension to the program. Churches can also offer transportation to kids who would like to be involved in a church but whose foster homes or group homes don't have that option. I know a church in our town that does just that for a girls' group home. I've been on retreats with some of these girls and seen how they find hope and joy in belonging to a church community.

The Foster Care Journey

All these small avenues can eventually lead some people down the road to becoming foster or adoptive parents. A family in our church felt God leading them to do more after volunteering at the Laura Dester Shelter. Now they're a licensed emergency foster home for the Bair Foundation. One Church, One Child (www.nationalonechurchonechild.org) is a national organization whose entire mission is going to churches in the African American community and recruiting at least one family per church to provide a permanent home for children "languishing" in the foster care system. One Church, One Child is a powerful model for how the church can make a significant contribution. If there are over 250,000 congregations in the United States (www.thearda.com) and each church made it a ministry goal to encourage at least one of their families to adopt or become long-term foster parents to a young child or adolescent, 250,000 displaced kids would have one stable permanent family and a loving, steadfast church to help them on their journeys.

In Deuteronomy 24:19-20, God commands the Israelites to leave some of the fruits of their harvest so that the fatherless, the widows, and the strangers can glean the fields. While no commentary is offered as to why God sets it up this way, I think it's for a couple of reasons. One, God never intended for us to delegate or outsource our participation in helping the least of these. Everyone had a harvest, so everyone was instructed to set aside part of their fruits for anyone in need who might be passing through their lands. Second, God never wants to miss a chance to illustrate redemption in our lives. Gleaning is an act of restoration. It's a way to make up for what's been lost. It's a rescue from hunger and hopelessness.

People often ask me if I felt cheated by having to share my parents with all those kids for so many years. I always find the question intriguing, because I felt just the opposite. I felt lucky, blessed, and enriched to grow up in a story of restoration. My parents lived out that passage in Deuteronomy 24. They knew their harvest, although modest, was enough to share with a few fragile strangers who passed our way.

Denise McKinney is the director of student ministry at Redeemer Covenant Church in Tulsa, Okla. She has been in youth ministry for 12 years. For most of her childhood, she and her three siblings were sharing life with 3-6 foster kids.