Over the years, my wife Dawn and I have fostered a lot of kids, all races, backgrounds, and various problems. Right now we’re dealing with our toughest child, a little boy who’s been through so much trauma that he can’t control his rage.
When he gets angry, he hits, he kicks, he throws things. After he beat on my wife and wouldn’t stop last Saturday, we took steps to have him committed to a residential psychiatric program. He’s sitting right now at our local hospital, waiting for a room to open up.
Many friends have advised us that it is time to give up on him. They all mean well and are sincerely concerned for our safety. They’ve warned us his violence “COULD” eventually put our girls at risk for beatings like the one my wife took last Saturday. We realize this is a real possibility, though it has not happened. We realize he “COULD” get even worse as he gets bigger. He “COULD” even become sexually aggressive when he hits puberty.
So after many talks and lots of advice, we’ve made a decision. We’re not giving up yet. And it’s all God’s fault.
You see, our problem is that we saw God’s hand at work when Dawn heard about a little 6 year old boy that had been dumped into a group home with teenage boys. She feared for his safety in that environment, tracked down his guardian, and got him placed in our home.
After trying to help him get acclimated to our family, we realized after about 6 months he needed intensive treatment for his psychological problems. We had a lot of love, but love by itself wasn’t going to fix this.
So we began telling every DCS worker, every guardian ad litem, every counselor that this little guy needed real help. They responded with lower level things like play therapy, and suggested family therapy for us to teach us “coping skills”.
They all meant well and were trying to do what they thought was best. But seriously, we’ve raised 5 kids already. We don’t need family therapy or “coping skills”: we already know how to cope with most anything and everything. We’re not the problem, his rage is the problem.
But finally, now that David is in the local hospital, people are responding. Dawn has talked to multiple psychiatrists this past week, when we weren’t able to talk to ANY before. They’ve agreed he needs more intensive residential care for an extended period of time. Things are happening, and people are rallying around him.
So, back to the God problem. Would God really allow all this to happen, just so we could get to this point and unceremoniously give up? Sorry, that is not the way God works. And our job is, as long as there is hope, we have to keep trying.
Sure, it would be a lot less stress on our family without him. BUT WHEN WAS GOD’S GOAL EVER TO GIVE US A STRESS-FREE LIFE? How is that even part of the equation?
No, we are not trying to be “white saviors”, as the media dismissively calls anyone attempting to do good these days. We are not martyrs or even “really spiritual people”. We are sinners who were saved out of our own disfunction and mess by God, who grabbed us out of the “miry clay and put our feet on a Rock”! How in the world can we not at least try to do that for our little guy?
People say “you’ve done all you can do”. We need to turn him back in so they can “put him somewhere”. People mean well when they say that, but the big lie is that there is a “somewhere” to put kids like this. If we return him to DCS custody, he won’t go to another foster home. Kids who are violent rarely ever get placed. Most likely, he will be dumped in a group home again. He will probably never have a family or anyone to call mom and dad. Everything in his life will get only worse, and quickly.
Yes, he is a lost cause. But he is our lost cause.
So thanks for the kind words and very real care for us and our family. We feel like our church and every person we know is hugging us in unison. It’s wonderful, really. But we have to try every option before we ever say “we can’t do any more”. That day may come, but we’ll accept it only after professionals who know more than we do look us in the eyes and say, “he’s never going to get better”.
God is calling us to take on some lost causes around us. But I’m afraid sometimes I’m just not listening. Or maybe it’s because I’ve made an idol out of my own personal comfort.
One person who has specialized in lost causes is Cori Salchert, a former parental bereavement nurse with eight biological kids of her own. Her job was to care for infants who are terminally ill, with zero chance of survival. That in itself sounds like enough of a hard job.
But Cori noticed that many of the families of these babies would simply walk away after receiving the terminal diagnosis. After their joyful expectations for their new child being dashed, the mothers simply couldn’t take the thought of watching their baby die.
So some of those moms did the unthinkable – they abandoned their terminal babies at the hospital.
Emmalynn was one such baby. Since birth she’d been in a vegetative state, unable to see or hear. The one thing she could do was feel, but most of those feelings were the physical pain brought on by her condition. At the hospital, she would have been left in a blanket on her feeding pump and put aside to die. But in that hopeless situation, Cori saw an opportunity to love irrationally.
That’s when Cori made a sacrifice some might think pointless. In 2012, Cori adopted Emmalynn into her own family.
Now this little girl was no longer alone, and was now the youngest of 9 siblings. Each of the Salchert children would take turns holding her throughout the day. They would kiss her repeatedly, and the family took her everywhere they went.
After about 50 days of life, Cori could tell Emmalynn was fading. They gathered the family together, and each of them took one last turn holding and kissing her.
Finally, Cori snuggled with Emmalynn, holding her close while singing “Jesus Loves Me” gently over her. After a few minutes, Cori realized Emmalynn had stopped breathing…
She was gone now, but she had never been alone.
Probably none of the other nurses at that hospital remember little Emmalynn. But I believe there is a God who knows her by name. He saw her pain and felt it as any father would for his own child. He takes her pain personally.
And so when any of us show love to even the most hopeless case, He notices and smiles on us as well. Maybe that’s because we were hopeless once too, until He adopted us.
We are certainly not in the same category as someone like Cori. There is still hope our little guy can turn around. But she reminds me that God hasn’t called us to do what’s “reasonable” or easy. And He doesn’t promise that when we go the extra mile, we’re guaranteed a miracle or a stereotypical “happy ending”.
We won’t see some prayers answered until the world after this one.
While I know our good works don’t get us into heaven, I wouldn’t be too worried about taking my last breath if I were Cori Salchert. She’s made an investment in the next life, through Emmalynn and all the other children she has continued to adopt and love in their final days.
In fact, it’s not too hard for me to imagine the scene as Cori walks into heaven one day. One by one, I see little children walking – no, running up to meet her, the last loving touch they felt on earth. I see their little hands, now healthy and whole, reaching up to hers.
As they gather around Cori, they walk her triumphantly into the throne room of God. And this God, this Father of the fatherless who promised to bless those who help “the least of these”, will look at her, smile widely, and say:
“Well done, my good and faithful servant”.
Blessed are the lost causes. Because in the next life, those hopeless, broken lives may be the very ones who meet you at heaven’s door.
