Thursday, December 19, 2013

Part 2 When Love Is NOT Enough



I so appreciate all the notes after my last post, whether they were public or private. It has made me realize that perhaps my main message was lost in the writing. Before I get to that let me tell you the rest of the story.

Yesterday I told you about our son who we adopted at age 14. Six months after he came into our home there was another boy in the same treatment center that needed a permanent home. His life story is tragic even before he was born.

J came out of his mother's womb over two months early already beaten physically. Bio-Mom was a serious alcoholic. Like a lot of seriously premies it was touch and go. He developed serious lung problems. He spent over two months in the NICU with only nurses to love on him. When it was time to be released from the hospital he went home with his Mom who continued to drink. Over the next eight years DHS would be in and out of the home. There were four other children. There was severe neglect due to the alcohol addiction.

Food was scarce. Most of the kids spent very little time in school. J was the only boy and he took the brunt of the physical abuse. There were multiple men in and out of the home. Pornography was introduced along with sexual abuse. J roamed the streets at all hours with no supervision. DHS continued to come in and out of their lives. His last Thanksgiving, a time for families to gather around a table filled with turkey and stuffing was beaten for stealing dog food to just find some relief from the hunger.

All the children were finally removed after a car accident where Mom was drunk as a skunk. DHS finally had what they needed to remove all the children. They were all put in a brand new licensed foster home. As you might imagine J was a very angry nine year old. When he didn't get what he wanted he threw horrible temper tantrums. Less than a week later he threatened to run out in the road to kill himself. The police were called and J was put in a mental hospital till another suitable placement was found. He wound up in the treatment center that Rich served.

Our son was about the angriest kid I have ever seen. He could throw furniture at lightening speed. His swearing would make a Navy seal blush. He could  put holes in the walls faster than a sledge hammer. In other words he was a train wreck. I spent several weeks at the treatment center where he was at volunteering to cook for the kids and staff. They weren't allowed to wear their pants down like a bunch of thugs but everyone including most of the staff were afraid of him so they looked the other way on some things. One day I said to him as he was walking through the food line that his britches were falling down. He cussed me out and told him he didn't have to listen to anyone because he had just found out he was going to get out of the treatment center and be adopted by a family so just leave him alone. I chuckle now because he had no idea that was his new Mama telling him his britches were falling down!

When he was finally told the day he was leaving just who was taking him he was thrilled. Rich had an excellent relationship with him and took him out for ice cream. The two of them talked about what an adoption would look like. J was so far behind in school. He could barely read and didn't know such simple things as a town is part of a state and a state was part of the country. Such simple things were lost to him. We had gotten permission to homeschool him to get him back up to speed. We also wanted time to help him emotionally. Rich shared that day that one stipulation might be very hard for him to swallow but it was important. When Rich told him he would be home schooled he said, "does that mean I don't have to be a thug anymore and I could just be a kid?" That showed us that deep down he really wanted to shed the tough guy exterior and be a kid for the first time.

I will close for now but will tell you the rest of the story tomorrow and why I now say that love is NOT enough. Till then.
In Christ Alone,
Jill



Be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the ground each morning Satan says, "Oh crud, she's up".

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