Daddy's View: Episode I - The reluctant one

Hey, Brian here, also known as Daddy. Maggie (and various visitors) have requested that I share the Man's perspective on fostering, so I wanted to do a series of "guest" posts. I put "guests" in quotations because, while this is technically my family's blog, it's really Maggie's. I want to start from the beginning, before Jae and Zee, before X-man, before the girls, back when my life was "normal".

At the beginning of 2008, we were living a great, normal American life. We celebrated our first anniversary a week after closing on our first home. I was really enjoying my first job, and Maggie was winning employee of the month awards at her social work job. Life was easy, and I really liked that! About a month after we moved in to our house, we traveled to Dallas with a group of young adults from our church to the Passion conference. While we were there, a pastor named Francis Chan told a story during one of his talks about a woman in East Asia who had rescued over 100 children from brothels and taken them in, fed them and found them homes. Towards the end of the story, after talking about how many lives this woman had changed, he related it to the American dream (you know, owning a house, accumulating wealth, etc.) and asked "Would you rather wake up in twenty years to your big, beautifully decorated living room, or wake up knowing you've helped change the lives of dozens of children?"

Okay. Wow.

Now we had talked even before we got married about how we would "someday" foster or adopt. But to me "someday" meant a long time away. "Someday" was after we had kids of our own and they were older. "Someday" was something other than "right now". But all signs were pointing to the fact that we were clearly being called to foster "right now" God had taken away all of our excuses (Not enough space? We had just purchased a 4 BR home. Not old enough? 1 Timothy 4:12. Not enough money? Matthew 6:25.), and the Passion conference was just the kick in the butt we needed to get it in gear.

Okay, so by now I had realized that this is something that we're supposed to do. But I still didn't want to do it. To me, it was a scary thing: I had never been a father, what if I wasn't good at it? I had never met a foster child, what if I couldn't love them? I had heard about what some of these kids go through, what if I just wasn't cut out to deal with it? And on top of all of that I really liked the life I already had. Why go out of my way to make myself uncomfortable? I was thinking about all of these things during my first day back at work after the Passion conference, trying to convince myself that this was the right thing to do, and that we should just do it. But without me knowing beforehand, Maggie that same day had already signed us up for classes! Now wives, I don't recommend that you do this! Maggie knows me pretty well and figured I just needed that last nudge in the right direction.

So that's how we started the training, but what about all of those fears I had? I asked a few of my good friends to pray for my heart, that God would change my heart and prepare me for being a foster dad. And while I did begin to feel peace about it, most of my fears didn't go away before we started fostering (I'll talk more about their resolution in my next post). And I guess that's the point. We're called as believers to be obedient in whatever God has for us. And while some fears are legitimate and we're called to be discerning, I knew that fostering is what God was calling us to do, so my own misgivings shouldn't matter. If your family is feeling God's call to foster or adopt, I challenge you to be obedient: the God who gave this self-centered man a heart for foster children will be faithful to his promises!

In my next post I'll talk about some of the fears I had about being a foster dad, and how many of them disappeared when we got our first placement. Please email and let us know if there are any specific questions you would like to have answered from a Daddy perspective.

Obviously a Gentleman.

We’re staying busy with this young man.

This morning he got up bright and early.  Brian got up with him so that I could try to let Sylvia sleep a little longer.  He was antsy for something to do, so they took off to the store to get some breakfast goodies.

I heard the garage door when they returned, and Sylvie was waking up, so I got up and went down stairs.  I heard some whispering, and when I rounded the corner he popped out at me with a bouquet of flowers!

“I told Brian he needed to get these for you.  I told him you are a good wife, and you’re pretty.  And that he’s a lucky man.”

 

 

 

I like this kid already!

Project 365 – Week 7

There aren’t seven.  And they aren’t all from different days.  But I’m doing my best.

 

It Happens.

Poop that is.  On the shirt.  Blowout.  Epic.

 

Just when I was thinking that spring would never come, I looked out the window and saw these growing in the front yard.  There is joy in these flowers.

(I should mention, however, that now these flowers are covered in

6 inches of snow. hmph.)

Sylvie also loved the flowers.

 

 

Barbequing with Daddy for the first time this year!

 

Watching the sun go down over the river valley from Grandma and Grandpa’s

front porch swing.

Playing piano with Daddy.

  Bright Eyes.

Project 365 – Week 6

 

Mommy and Sylvie.

 

Sylvie eating her first biter biscuit with Nana.  She loved it.  I’m pretty sure my mom wasn’t thrilled that I took this picture.

 

This is what I see when I go in to get Sylvie from her naps now.  Gone are the days that she just lays there content – she’s got places to go!

  Because when you’re a baby, even plumbers crack is cute.

As promised, the monthly Chik-fila picture.  Sylvie obviously knows where it’s at.

We help run our church’s monthly homeless outreach – we held a movie night last night and this little girl, NaKayla, was attached to me at the hip.  She informed me that Sylvia was the cutest baby (I’m not one to argue.), I should wear my hair down more often, and that I needed to learn how to dance – of course, she offered to teach me.

What? A picture of Sylvia? I wouldn’t have guessed.

But this picture is special because she’s wearing the first piece of clothing that I ever handcrafted for her.  I am very excited.  I royally screwed up this dress more than once during it’s making.  If it were up to me she’d wear it every day for the rest of her life – it was that much work.

Faking it.

I liked this idea.
When I read blogs it does usually seem a little like the fake side of the person writing. Like it's their happy side, or their clever side, or the 'who people think I should be' side. I try to be real on this blog. I try to be open and really honest about my feelings about things, or what I am really thinking when my kids are driving me up the wall.
But we're all a little fakey sometimes. (yes, fakey is an adjective. It's just a fake one.)

So, here it goes, I'm gonna be real with ya.

• That wonderful, patient husband I've told you about? Well, yes, he is wonderful and patient. But me? Not so much. Probably I show my worst side to Mr. Popp more often than he would like. I'm grumpy, I get an attitude, I roll my eyes. God is clearly using marriage to refine me, and I just haven't quite gotten the hint. If there were one area that I wish my stubborn-ness would let a little light in on, this would be it, because I regret my grumpy side more with him than in any other area of my life.

• I am really awful about calling people. People in general, but really, I'm not even good at calling my friends. Back when the girls left, I went through a really hard time of loneliness - and even though I was lonely, I didn't call anyone. I always assume they already have something to do, I don't want to be a bother, or I feel like they'd be inconvenienced some way by my need for fellowship. But we all need fellowship, yeah? So, if I know you, and I don't call you, we should hang out.

• Speaking of when the girls left - I've had some seasons in my life where it has been seriously difficult for me to find joy. I think that in general I always try to seem happy to other people (except for Mr. Popp - see bullet number one.) - and I AM happy most of the time - but there are seasons where joy is hard. I think most people, especially women, struggle with this sometimes. And I think most of us try to hide it, which is silly. If we shared this struggle, we'd probably all find a lot more joy.

• Sometimes I don't like being a foster parent. Whew. This is a tough one. Because I want to always like it. I want to be completely selfless and never think of it as a sacrifice. (Because really, truly it is just a giant blessing.) Sometimes though, my heart gets hard, and selfish Maggie shows her ugly face, and I just wish our life was normal. Whatever that means. If it were not for God and His love, there are times I would have quit. Ugh. I hate this side of sin. Let's stop talking about this real part of me.
  

• I lose my patience with my kids sometimes. Not that this is a newsflash. I try to go with the flow most of the time, not get flustered, but sometimes the flow is just heading the wrong way. Or I am. There are days when Brian walks through the door, and I have to hand him whichever child I am holding, and I have to go sit and not be a mom for just a few minutes. I wish this weren't true. I wish I had unending patience. Parenthood is also rather refining.

Sometimes I wish we came pre-refined.
But that's kind of the point - It's why we need Jesus. I need Jesus, because sometimes I fake it. But like I said, I'll try to be real with you here, because I think the refining might be a lot easier if we were all real, so we could see that we're all broken. Let's quit faking it, I'll be real with you, you be real with me. We'll lift each other up in our broken realness.