An Open Letter to Birth Parents from Foster Parents

PS-MAPP Class Homework Assignment:

An Open Letter to Birth Parents from Foster Parents

Dear Parents, 

            If you are reading this letter, then it is finding you at a difficult time in your life. My husband and I want to express our deepest sympathy. We need you to know that you will receive no judgement from us. We do not know your life story nor what has led you to this day, but we do wish to get to know your child. We understand that though mistakes have been made, you love your child and want him/her to be safe and happy. We wish to work together and extend you grace, as it was extended to us by our Lord and Savior. Our goal is to encourage and support you as you travel your journey to getting your life in order. We only want to help you with that journey and speak hope. In case no one has told you before, there is nothing that you have done that is beyond the grace of God. He can make all things new. He uses desperate, seemingly hopeless situations to create victories. We aspire to be a part of your victory story.

            To ease your mind about your child's whereabouts, let me tell you a little about us and our home. My name is Katie and my husband's name is Andrew. We are both 25 years old and celebrating our 4th year of marriage this summer. I met him at church and said yes to his proposal after only 3 months of dating. He is a huge helpmate to me. He spoils me and will spoil your little one as well. We both graduated from Alice Lloyd College and have our Bachelor's Degree. Andrew is  currently in grad school pursuing a doctorate in physical therapy. He loves sports, fishing, and children. 

            I have a degree in Elementary Education and am taking online master classes to become a reading specialist. I currently teach 1st grade at a wonderful elementary school. So your little one will ride to and from school with me. Our home is made up of gratitude, grace, and grit. We are simple people that enjoy the outdoors and spending time on our front porch. We'll seek to know your child's interests and passions...whatever they may be. 

           We have no children of our own, so we have lots of time and love to spare. It's easy to see that a parent can love more than one child, so we believe that a child can love more than one set of parents. That's the wonderful thing about love: it can be limitless if we let it. Throughout your child's stay, we will encourage your child to maintain a safe and healthy relationship with you, if at all possible. We will never speak badly about you to anyone, especially your child. We anticipate and look forward to the day when you can be permanently reunited with your child. But we want you to know, if that day doesn't come, we have enough love in our hearts to give to your child forever.

            We hope you can open your hearts to us as we already have to you. We pray that we can all work together with the best interest of your child in mind. Thank you for taking the time to read and consider our words and know that you are in our thoughts and prayers. 

Your new friends, 

Katie & Andrew

10 Things My Momma Taught Me

10 Things My Momma Taught Me

I don't know about you, but my momma is my best friend. I am so very thankful that the Lord blessed me with a God-fearing Momma who has loved the same man (who happens to be my daddy) since she was twelve year olds. She's never even kissed anyone else. I love sharing that about their love story, because I think it is so very special. I could not have picked a better set of parents if I could have looked the world over. I do not take for granted that I was blessed with selfless, dedicated parents. I know how blessed I am to have experienced a long, sweet childhood. It is something that I thank God for often.

My dad jokes that I'm my mom's twin. My sisters got some of her traits, sure, as all offspring do...but not like me. Mom and I are the same person. And yes, there are moments that we clash because we are so very much alike. But ultimately, she's my best friend. I admire her. I crave her approval in all things. And I need to know that she is happy.

As I prepare Mother's Day Activities for my kiddos in my 2nd grade classroom to take home to their mommas, my mind wonders to my own mother. I put together a list of the first 10 words that came to mind.

• Laugh

That was the very first word that came to mind. When I think of my mom and what she has taught me, I think of laughter. She has taught me that it is ok to laugh at yourself. Life is much more enjoyable when you learn to do that. She's taught me that you can't take things too seriously. Laughter is her most common reaction, and I credit her youthful looks to that fact. Growing up, I watched as she chose laughter over tears time and time again. That has made a big impact on the way that I navigate this world. I couldn't count the times I've seen Mom hold her sides, tears rolling down her cheeks from laughter. It's the image I hope stays with me the longest.

• Lip-gloss

Ah, the importance of color on the lip. She'd hound us before we'd go out the door in the morning for high school, before a date, or before church on Sundays. My sister and I use to joke that that's what Momma thought the criteria was for getting into Heaven. Of course, that was just to tease her. Momma isn't vain, and she didn't teach us to be vain. But she did encourage us to take care of our appearance. As I've made my way in the world, I've been thankful for that.

• Smile

I smile as I think about "smiling" memories. I don't just mean from happy ones. I can recall momma whispering warnings to my sister and I in a church pew. She'd be jumping all over us to stop fighting and act right...all through the gritted teeth of a smile. From a few pews over why you'd just think she was telling us how lovely we were. When we were really little, she'd prep us in the car before church mornings by saying, "Girls, you need to smile. Look people in the eye, shake their hands, and tell them good morning." Sharing a smile with people is our duty. It might not be what we always feel like doing, but it's important. I saw the truth in this as my momma had to put her smile back on after we lost my sister. I know there are days when she doesn't feel like smiling, but she does anyway. And I know some of those smiles are just for me.

• Bravery

My momma is a brave lady. I've seen it many times from the simple such as singing in front of congregations to the larger of burying her daughter. Before my daddy was a preacher, he was a coal miner. Both occupations can be very scary ones. She's been right beside of him, being brave the entire time. I can recall countless times growing up where she just jumped into motion when a crisis arose. It's just what mothers do.

• Manners

As children come through my classroom, it's evident to see that all mommas are not teaching manners like mine did. She taught us to say please and thank you. To let an elderly person have our seat. To not interrupt two adults talking. To chew with our mouths shut. To take our shoes off when we entered someone's house. She went beyond the simple one though. She encouraged us to ask other people about their lives and to listen to their answers. I can remember her asking us to compliment at least two other students in our class that day at school. Many times, she reminded us it isn't all about us. She taught me how to make small talk with just about anyone.

• Tactfulness

If manners are dying off, than tactfulness is all but extinct.

Tact- a keen sense of what to say or do to avoid giving offense; skill in dealing with difficult or delicate situations.

Many times my jaw drops at the tactless responses from adults. Some people may just have this keen sense naturally, but others need to be taught. It amazes me how many seem to be clueless. Momma taught us that you don't ask people personal questions. You don't go announce your business (even if it isn't particularly embarrassing-- it's still personal). You don't say names when talking about someone in public places (even if you're not talking badly about them). Take care not to leave people out. Decline invitations politely. Don't ask someone how much something costs, and don't broadcast how much you paid for something. You say thank you for whatever someone gives you-- even if it's the most God-awful thing you've ever seen. (You don't just say thank you. You say thank you while you are smiling a smile that better pass for genuine.) You don't argue in public (even if your voice isn't raised). Think before you speak. Choose your words carefully. And notice who is around you. It's all about being sensitive to others. There's no wonder it's becoming a rare thing. 

• Indulgence

My sweet momma has taught me the beauty of indulgence. You don't just eat a treat, you indulge in it. You don't just take a nap, you indulge in it. There's an art to this, and let me tell you, it makes life so much  more precious. Of course, too much indulgence could be a bad thing. You can't indulge in everything...but it does have a time and place. Momma has shown me just how much fun life can be. The simple things. Embrace them. Slow down and actively embrace the pleasure.

• Sacrifice

Momma sacrificed over and over again. Growing up, we never wanted for anything. We had the newest clothes, shoes, and gadgets. We had cars when we turned 16. We had vacations and opportunities. We were always given the full nine yards for every event in our lives. And not because we have money to spare, but because Momma did without. Momma put her girls first, always. She still does. You can't accurately describe the sacrifice that goes into that, except that it's selfless.

• Beauty

I've always said that if Dads make the world a more safe place to live, than Moms make it a more beautiful one. When I think of my mom, I think of her pointing out the beauty in life. She does it so often it's just part of who she is. She'll point to a painted barn sign as we pass by on the road. She'll point to the pink in the sky as the sun sets. She'll point out the stitching on a quilt or notice the sound that water makes against the bank. She notices the simple, every day things. She appreciates their beauty. It's not only what she sees, but also what she does. I couldn't imagine what my life would have been like without her making things beautiful for me. She has a way of putting her touch on something and changing it. She's fixed countless articles of clothing and formal dresses, painted walls, decorated cakes, and laid out tablescapes. She has also taught me that beauty is a verb and not an adjective. You need to be a beautiful person from the inside.

• Love

And of course, there's love. No one loves like a momma does. It's sacrificial, selfless, and unconditional. It's given freely and forever. I know that I always have someone on my side. Fighting my battles. Feeling my pain. Celebrating my joy. Listening and caring and praying.

Happy Mother's Day to all women who have dedicated their lives to raising a child. It is the most important job. May God bless you.

Visible Grace



One night, a few weeks ago, I awoke in the middle of the night. It was the oddest thing, because one word was on my mind: adoption. Ever since that night, I haven't been able to put it out.

I've thought long and hard about "adoption" and what it means to me. I've meditated on the fact that I was adopted by my Lord and Savior. I read the verses calling Christians to care for the orphans. I asked my husband if he would ever consider adoption. And then I called up a friend.

My first year of teaching led me to a tiny, rural K-8 school that consisted of only about 130 kids. My year was as long and winding as the road I traveled twice a day. I love to catch a glimpse of how true it is when we say that "hindsight is 20/20". Looking back, I can see many things that came from my 1st year experience of teaching 1st grade at that school. One particular result is that I met Dawn. She is the mother of a student that was on my Speech team.

I don't really know the word for what I was feeling. Not exactly the same as "obsession", but somewhere in that ballpark. I didn't know what I wanted to do or what I was supposed to do or how to do it, but I was going crazy trying to figure it out. I just felt the urge to move. I still don't know the exact direction, but staying still was not and is not an option.

Anyways, back to Dawn. It was during one of my sporadic days when  I was trying to get a grip on what it was that I needed to be doing that I remembered her. It was my planning period on a busy day at my current school and though there were exactly 50,341 things that I could have been doing, I picked up my cellphone. I recalled Dawn mentioning that if we ever wanted to adopt to let her know. She had said she would love to help us out. I wasn't sure how she would help or what I wanted to ask her, but I called her. When I got off the phone with her, after days of agony, I felt a little bit of peace. (I can't adequately explain it, that's just how it was.) I had known that she did social work and that was about it. Turns out, she is the director of the foster care program for our region. She talked with me about adoption through her program and how most families start out as foster parents and then sometimes an adoption becomes available. Of course I had a bazillion questions (and I still do!), but right in the middle of our conversation, a new word seeped into my heart. Foster.

After that phone conversation and speaking more with my husband, I channeled my energy. I did some research and the statistics I came across are some heavy ones. On a national basis, there were approximately 399,546 kids in care in 2011. An estimated 20,000 young adults "aged out" of the system when they turned 18 without ever finding a forever family.  Statistics easily turn into "just numbers", but think about how high that number is. And then think about those numbers as children...because that's what they are: innocent children. Even more heartbreaking is taking a look at the statistics of "aged out" foster children in particular. When those young adults are left to their own devices in our society, only 4% of them obtain a college degree. Close to half of "aged out" foster kids become homeless.

I don't know about you, but that made my heart feel so heavy. It's one of many results of living in a fallen world.

As I began to mention foster care to my close friends and family members, I was hit with another wave of realization. I was cozy on my couch when another word just -BAM- seeped into my heart. Birthparents.

 

 









 Because connected to those 399,546 kids are set of birthparents. That are not so innocent. Quite frankly, most are probably headed straight to hell. And THAT is the saddest statistic of all.

I thought about just how different we really are, those broken people that can't get their lives together and myself. What it comes down to is this: the only thing that separates us is Jesus.

So as my husband and I strongly consider embarking on the journey of fostering, we do so with the birthparents front and center on our minds.  For you see, fostering isn't just about the kids. The goal of foster care is to reunite children with their birth family to a safe and secure environment. The system is designed to offer services, therapy, and rehab to birthparents. No matter what the circumstances (abuse/neglect/etc.) we have to speak with hope about these people. We have to show them the right way. The goal isn't to keep their child, but to give them an opportunity to fix themselves, to show them the worth of their child, and to offer encouragement and purpose...

The goal is to extend them a little grace.

So as I fill out pages and pages of a profile and prepare to attend another class tomorrow evening, I think on that five letter word-- grace. And how it was extended to me. And how it has made all the difference.

I know some have been hesitant to comment on our decisions. And I understand that. Especially those closest to us that love us the most. They don't want to see us get hurt. They want to protect us. Others, acquaintances, look at us oddly and wonder why in the world essential newlyweds would want to have foster kids in their home. And I honestly really can't write up a fancy answer for you, except we just feel it. I've always prayed for the Lord to direct my path and fill my hands and use me.

As a little girl, I wanted to be a missionary. Even now, I sometimes feel like I'm not doing enough to reach others and spread the gospel. I see pictures of people on mission trips to third world countries holding dark skinned children with big eyes and easy smiles. Sure, I would enjoy an experience like that, but what about our mountain children? Can we be missionaries right here at home? I think absolutely yes. And I think it's absolutely needful.

I also feel like I need to say this: I do not think I can save the world. Andrew and I are not donning a superhero's cape. I won't deny that we may be naïve about the ways of the system; however, we are not that naïve. But just because the chance is there that we won't help a single person, doesn't mean we shouldn't try.  Just because "foster care" is going to bring the ugly, devastating truth of a broken family, doesn't mean we shouldn't open our door. And just because foster care isn't trending and won't come in a monogrammed, chevron bow, doesn't mean we shouldn't accept it.

 



Lord, if there's a road we should walk...help us find it.

My Love Story

When I said Yes! August 2012
He popped the question when we hiked to the waterfall known as Bad Branch Falls located on Pine Mountain.

I met my Mr. at church one Sunday morning... but only in passing. I suppose we made "sheep's eyes" but no conversation was started. It is true that I nudged my oldest sister and told her I'd marry him someday. She had rolled her eyes and laughed. I wouldn't call it love at first sight, because I think that's sounds like a silly concept. But I have always been a romantic at heart, and I do believe in soul mates. And in that moment, I did have a strong intuition. That's a fact.

It didn't hurt that he's handsome and was dressed in his Sunday duds. But it was more than that.  Let me go back...

Leading up to the summer we met, I experienced some of my darkest days. I was the furthest away from the Lord than I had ever been. I was lost, lonely, and deeply hurting. The previous summer, my sister had died. My world turned gray. It was, and is, an unbearable pain that leaves you no choice but to bear it. Pain is such a fragile, porcelain thing. We all hold it differently. You hold on to it, and it will cut you. And it will cut those around you.

I didn't do a very good job bearing my pain, though I tried. It's hard to let my mind wonder back to those toughest moments. And let me explain something...people say it gets easier, and I suppose it does, but I wouldn't explain it that way. The pain does not get any easier. You just get stronger. You learn to bear it better. That is all.

I remember being on the ground and crying from a place inside of me that I had never cried from before. I remember walking around a room full of coffins, shopping for the one we would put my sister in. I remember staring at that closed coffin at the funeral and wondering if I would ever see her again.

The odds of dying in a plane crash are one in 11 million. My sister was terrified of heights and planes. She was terrified of dying.

It was May 25th when we received the phone call that changed who we are today. I had turned 20 years old just four days earlier, but I aged more on that day than I had the entire previous year. Kassie would have turned 23 that August. She was young and beautiful, full of blonde hair, wild green eyes, and dreams. She liked Bob Marley & The Beatles, expensive things, and light hearted conversations.

"All you need is love, love...love is all you need."
Kassie Lynn Robinson passed away on May 25, 2011

I had originally created this post because it was Valentine's Day, and I was going to write about my Mr. But I have always been the type of writer that has a real hard time planning on what to write. I do much better when I start writing without any idea of the direction that I'm going. I couldn't realize why I was resurfacing difficult memories, instead of sharing the event of my snowy V-day. (Which I had originally intended.) But I see now where my subconscious is headed. Kassie's story is fitting, because it's a big part of my ultimate love story.

You see, when someone you love dies, especially someone young and unexpected, the word "death" begins to haunt your every thought. It's all I could think about...

It was, in essence, that pain that brought me to the knees of my heart. To the place where I found Jesus.

I was baptized that next May, the first Sunday of the month. I had finally found life. I had finally found the truest love that exists.

 "And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." 1 Corinthians 13:13 .
My baptism, May 2012

But that "in between year", coming full circle, was a very dark time for me. I withdrew from my family. I clung to the wrong people, the wrong crowd, the wrong boy. I drank. I did anything that took my mind away from thinking about death. Anything that distracted me from wondering what it was like to be on a plane that was burning. Anything that distracted me from feeling guilty about not being the best sister. Anything that distracted me from thinking about Heaven and Hell...about life and death. I was either numb or feeling too strongly. I had found no balance, no peace.

But then, on Easter morning, right in the midst of my torment, I met Jesus.

I finally understood the word "salvation" and why we needed it. I felt so unworthy and so unclean. I was ashamed of the person I had become. I was so scared of dying.

Ever since I was around fourteen, I had felt God knocking on my heart, and I had turned him down. Time and time again. I didn't think I was ready...for different reasons at different times. I didn't think I was ready, once, because I didn't understand enough about the Bible. (Which, of course, I now see we will never fully understand.) I didn't think I was ready, once, because I didn't truly believe in a Heaven or a Hell. I wanted evidence and facts. I didn't think I was ready, once, because I was too attached to the darkness. I didn't want to give up certain areas of my lifestyle. And there at the end, I didn't think I was ready, because I wasn't sure how to feel about a God that allowed such suffering to happen to good people.

But on that morning, I heard and felt with my whole being, "why not now".  Why not now, in my darkest time, when I felt like I could go no further...why not succumb to the Almighty and let Him carry me. That's exactly what I did. I felt the peace fall over my body and fill my soul. The shame, the fear, the guilt, the doubt....vanished. My Savior rescued me. I've been living for Him ever since that moment, and I haven't looked back. I honestly believe that was my last chance. That was the last time the Lord would have beckoned me. I had turned Him away so many times before, and I thank God everyday that He gave me one more chance.

That very day, I went home and poured a bottle of vodka down the drain. I called that wrong boy on the phone and told him that my life had changed; I was going to live for the Lord.

The very next Sunday, as if he appeared out of thin air, I spied Andrew in the church house. He attended my baptism in May. We we're dating by the end of the month. And engaged by August. Hey, when ya know...ya know!

We married the following July.


My denomination is referred to as Old Regular Baptist. We are made up of a community of churches throughout many counties and a few neighboring states. Different churches take turns hosting services on different Sundays and the preachers, along with the congregations, travel. Andrew and I are from different counties. My daddy is a preacher, and visits as many of our churches as he can. These are all reasons why I hadn't really noticed Andrew at church before. It would have been easy to miss each other. Not to mention, in my older years, my attendance wasn't the greatest. Whatever the reason, I had never noticed him.

I remember having a conversation with my dad once, expressing my concern of finding a Christian man. I had told him that they were in short supply. (Especially in my denomination, since our membership vastly consists of elderly people.) Sure, it was easy to find a guy that claimed to be a Christian and occasionally went to church. But that's not what I wanted. In the grand scheme of life, denomination isn't important, but it is when it comes to husbands. I was voicing my concern about that matter to my dad. I didn't just want a genuine Christian (which is hard enough in and of itself among 20 year olds), I wanted a genuine ORB Christian.

(Although, there are a thousand members, there are only a handful of ORB members that are in their early 20s. Two of whom are males.)

I know the thought entered my parents' minds, just like it did mine, that I would never find one. We were all guilty of that worry.

And we were all wrong.

Ta-da! Cue my prince charming.

Our "home" ORB church in Isom, KY.

It is still surreal to me that he walked into my life exactly when he was suppose to. But that is how I knew that he was the one.

This July will mark our two year anniversary and every day I learn to love him more.  Our relationship with our spouse is a lot like our Savior's relationship with His believers. I had always heard that, but it's a lot more relevant once you experience it. I am learning that the closer each of us grows towards Jesus, the closer we will grow towards each other. I am learning that everyday marriage calls me to be selfless.

To this day, it is difficult for me to look at my wedding pictures-- especially the group family photos. I don't think that will ever change. I never imagined my middle sister not being in them. Having a wedding without her beside me was the hardest thing I have ever done.

Charles Spurgeon said, "I have learned to kiss the wave that slams me into the Rock of Ages." 

Horratio Spafford said, "When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll; whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul."

I have meditated on those statements and found them to be so very, very beautiful and true.

I am in love with the One who created love. I know that I can find hope in the grief and know that it is well with my soul. I can kiss the waves.

I am also in love with a man who loves Jesus more than he loves me.

And that is my love story. 

All you need is love, love... Love is all you need. Walk in love.

Taken at Paradise Island in Mexico during our honeymoon.