For the first years of my career, I worked child abuse cases. I learned to build rapport and trust with broken kids over weeks and months so that they could testify against the evil monsters in their lives. Sitting in seminar after seminar and reading book after book about abused kids and what abuse does to them, I learned to speak the language of healing to them. I never once failed to build rapport and trust with any of the children in any of my cases. Every man I prosecuted in those early days got very long prison sentences.

By the time my first nephew came along, I didn’t even know how to relate to unbroken children. The first time I held that little 4 month old meatloaf in my arms, I was smitten. I pulled him back from my chest and he worked his little face into a grin and I fell completely apart. How could anyone something as innocent as a child? I knew then that I would torture and kill anyone who dared lay a hand on him. I’ve told my nephew that story often through the years and I always end with, “You’re magic. God used you to heal Auntie Ba’s heart.” When I told him that story this summer, it was the first time he asked me why my heart had been so broken. He’d just turned 7. I told him that was a story for another day when he was older. He trusted me.

I’ve posted other blogs about my research into private infant adoption, embryo adoption, and foster-to-adopt. I posted this blog about why I was choosing foster-to-adopt. In September of this year, I spent a weekend in foster parent training. I almost threw up on the way there. Sitting in training, it became quickly apparent as trainers deferred questions to me, that I had more knowledge as a 40 year old attorney than these 20 and 30 somethings, most of whom had no kids and were neither fostering nor adopting. It also quickly became apparent to me as they talked about all the reports foster parents must do, the weekly visits to see their biological parents in their city of origin, the monthly CPS visits wherein the worker looks for ways to give you a citation, that I am not comfortable with fostering a child. I’m called to adopt – not foster. I didn’t speak that truth to anyone for months because I hoped my heart would change.

Time went on. I was certified in CPI which means I know how to put a child who is out of control and a danger to himself or others into a hold without hurting him. I paid the fee and took the class through the agency to get certified in CPR and first aid. Though that teacher was so young, so nervous, and so poor at teaching that I really feel like I learned nothing at all other than to do chest compressions to the beat of “Staying Alive” by the Bee Gees. Hopefully, the handouts will be instructive enough if there is an emergency since I’m “certified” now.

It was after training that I first noticed that the agency I’d chosen specialized in the bait-and-switch. They never tell what the next step will look like or what will truly be required of you (i.e. reports and such) when fostering a child. In training they spoke as though these things were no big deal. They spoke about home study requirements as though there are no more invasive or expensive than any adoptive parent would go through. They wait to you get deep enough in that disclosing more and more of the redundant and cumbersome things they will lay upon you will cause you to say, “Well, I’ve come this far, so I might as well keep going.”

I prepared for the social study. Not only does the State lay extra requirements on you that other adoptive parents don’t have like outlet protectors for all kids aged 0-17, toothbrush covers for everyone, all cleaning supplies out of the reach of all kids or locked up whether you have a 2 year old or a 16 year old, all meds including aspirin and Tums under lock and key and fire detectors outside of each bedroom no matter how small your house is, my agency has extra non-State mandated requirements like only commercially-sold fruit preserves may be in your home. It’s cumbersome and ridiculous, but not undoable. I’m a Type A personality, so I followed their rules to the letter.

My mother and I had physicals certifying that we could raise children. We had our FBI fingerprints and background checks done. There went more money, but I understood the value of that. We had to have drug tests. Mom has Medicare, so hers was covered. Even with insurance, mine cost $740. Other families in my class spent $1000 on a single drug test. No one warned us that they would be so expensive. I almost dropped out at that point, but reasoned I’d come this far, so I might as well keep going.

I’d raised a little under $1000 through Go Fund me and contributed just over $1100 to it on my own. It’s all but gone now.

After paying $740 for the mandatory drug test, I learned I had to do 8 hours of observation with foster families. All of the families they provided for us to observe were at least an hour or more away. At this point I finally confessed to the “family advocate” that I wanted to only adopt a needy child and not foster. She said I still had to do everything to that I would to foster including the observation hours with a foster family. My sister wondered if they were planning to try to push me into fostering a child. Stupidly, I said, “No, I don’t think they would do that.”

I’d gotten about half of my paperwork in – including pictures of the house, copies of mom and my drivers licenses and birth certificates, house rules, daily schedule, car insurance, etc. The family advocate began pushing to do my pre-home study. The agency I’d chosen wanted to make sure the house was ready before they sent a social worker to do the real home study. That seemed logical to me and as a type A I liked being able to have a pop quiz before the big test. When I wanted extra time to prepare, she got a little pushy, but gave it to me.

Mom and I spent Thanksgiving weekend preparing the house and the baby room and receiving big boxes from Amazon with all the supplies required by the State and the agency. On Monday after Thanksgiving, I passed the pre-home study, fire inspection and environmental inspection with flying colors. The family advocate was impressed and said no one is ever this prepared. Then we sat on the couch and began to talk. My sister was right, they did intend to do everything they could to push me into foster care. So, while the director in her 30s had told me they loved single moms because there is something special about our hearts, the family advocate in her 20s now sat in my house and told me that because I’m a single mom, my best chance of getting a toddler was foster care.

Now bear in mind, I’ve dreamed of adopting since I was a teenager. I’ve never really wanted a baby, but I also don’t want a 7 or 8 year old. I was open to ages 0 to 4 or 5. The family advocate said I had to be open to adopting an 8 year old if I’m not willing to foster. I asked why other agencies only require you to be open to a 6 year old. It’s because it is not a State rule or State requirement. It’s just an arbitrary agency preference. I told her that God placed a dream in me that’s been there for more than 20 years. I told her I chose that Agency because it marketed itself as Christian. I asked if we couldn’t just finish my verification and trust God to provide the right child at the right time. She never answered that question, but instead pointed out I’d done enough to be able to babysit foster kids. I told her I’d be happy to do that to make myself useful while we waited for God to provide the right child at the right time. You see one reason I didn’t want to foster was because while a foster child is in your home, you aren’t considered for kids ready to be adopted. You are expected to place your hopes solely on the 30 percent chance that the kid in your care will be free for adoption at some point. Since my calling is adoption, it seems stupid to commit to that.

Also bear in mind, that unlike most people going through this, I am not going in blindly. I’ve worked with abused and neglected kids – as their advocate and also as their prosecutor when they commit crimes. I know the psychological damage and mental illnesses that come from it. While I’m prepared to take on quite a bit of damage, there are things I’m not willing to accept like Reactive Attachment Disorder or RAD. It is the childhood version of psychopathy. All serial killers are psychopaths, but not all psychopaths are killers. I am unwilling to have a psychopath in my home. I remember being in the courtroom while a young kid was being sentenced for trying to slice his parents throats open. No thank you. I also know that sexually abused kids often act out and perp on other kids because that is how they learned affection. I cannot risk the innocence of my nieces and nephews and no one knows exactly what has happened to a child, so I want a younger child because then my nephews can tell me if anything weird is going on.

In the end, I explained my thoughts fully, cried and begged her to get the agency to trust God’s plan and God’s timing and to allow me to be useful while waiting for the right child to come along. She said her job was to advocate for me and she would do her best. She said she would talk to the team on Friday. She said my points were reasonable, but I saw contempt for me on her face as she left.

That night, I prayed. I felt God say to me, “You are asking them to trust Me, but will You?” I realized that I was not and that I could say that I was open to adopting even an 8 year old and trust that God would bring the right child to me whether it was a baby, toddler or older child.

Two days later, on Wednesday, I felt the Holy Spirit impressing Matthew 25:34-40 on my heart:

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

That has been the desire of my heart through all of this. Friends have told me there are easier ways to become a mom, but I don’t just want to be a mom. I want to be a solution for a child who might otherwise have no options and fall through the cracks. More quickly than I imagined I could, God was bringing me closer to agreeing to their arbitrary non-State mandated, not-Biblically based 8 year old ideal.

Three days after the family advocate of the Christian agency had been at my house, on Thursday, I emailed her and told her the journey my heart had taken in the days since we’d met. I told her soon I’d be able to honestly say, “I will prayerfully and with an open heart and mind consider any child that you present to me.” My only request is that they prayerfully try to honor my desires that I believe were placed there by God when I was still a child. I told her that I could not promise I’d say yes to the first child because I would follow the Holy Spirit’s leading because He knew better than anyone what family and child would best mesh for a lifetime. I asked her not to give up on me. I truly assumed that as a Christian she and her team would be happy with the work God was doing in my heart. Instead, the next day I got a short email from my advocate stating that because of my openness they were terminating our relationship.

You read that right.

No discussion.  Just rejection.

No celebration of what God had done in my heart in a matter of days.  Just a break-up email.

My Christian friends are aghast at the fact that an agency marketing itself as Christian cannot understand the value of having the Holy Spirit involved in the placing of a child into a forever home, but feel like I clearly was not meant to work with that agency. My non-Christian friends are horrified by the judgmental nature of this “Christian” agency which has allowed me to explain that not all “Christians” are real Christians. Many are simply cultural Christians who do not believe the Bible or God or the power of the Holy Spirit. Many are referred to in 2 Timothy 3:5 people who have “a form of godliness, but denying its power.” That same verse says were are to have “nothing to do with such people.”

One of my friends was furious that a child or two would suffer by not having a forever home with me. Well, at least not right now.

I agree with my Christian friends. I’d had discomfort in dealing with this agency for months, but kept thinking, “Well, I’ve come this far, might as well keep going.” Now God has slammed this door shut.

My “advocate” also kept sending me other people’s confidential home studies by accident during these months. I always deleted them without looking at them, but last night I wanted to see if I could figure out what failing I had that caused them to dump me. I opened the confidential home study she accidentally sent me a few days ago that was still in my trash bin. Towards the end I saw it. Whenever there was a disagreement about how to raise a child, that family “was willing to defer to [the agency’s judgement] in all things.” That’s not who I am. And do we really want children raised by agencies instead of parents?

I’ve never been through a miscarriage. This is the closest I’ve ever come to feeling the feelings associated with that. For years I’ve loved the child who I’ve not yet met, who I believed will come to me. Now I’m back at square one, but thousands poorer.

I’m grieving and I’m not ready to try again just yet.

So for now, I think my time has come to learn about life inside the pause – to be still, silent, to think and breathe deeply, to reflect, to pray and to listen for the voice of God.  Maybe I’ll even take a solo trip to a new city after Christmas.  I haven’t done that since law school and it always rejuvenated me.

“Some journeys in life can only be traveled alone.” ~ Ken Poirot

“There comes a pause, for human strength will not endure to dance without cessation; and everyone must reach the point at length of absolute prostration.” ~ Lewis Carroll

“Sometimes you need to press pause to let everything sink in.” ~ Sebastian Vettel