Watching the Miracle

“You are saying I do things wrong all the time”, my boy screamed as I was explaining the consequence of hitting his brother.  “You are saying I am bad!”  This was a reoccurring theme in his almost 10 years of life.  Being abused by a domestically violent father has taken a toll on this beautiful heart.  Somehow, at a way to early age, this boy of mine decided that the abuse was his fault.  He was the cause.  He was bad.

The glass half empty.

The grass is always greener.

The fear to try new things.

Unable to give thanks.

These are the still fresh scars of a father who lashed out because of many old scars branded on his own heart.

How do I get to this tender but confused heart?  How do I tell him about a Jesus who heals scars?  How to reach a mind already entrenched with lies?

I am utterly unable. 

So I speak the words I have always known he believes.  I speak them out loud.  I speak them straight to his heart.

“I think you believe you are bad because your parents hurt you when you were small and somehow you blamed yourself.  You thought it was your fault.  Is this what you think?”

A nod of the head.

I began to speak from my deepest inner being.  Hoping.  Praying that he could hear.  Hear the words of truth.  Hear the words your Heavenly father speaks to you. You are special.  God will redeem.  God has a plan.  God sings over you. You are good. 

You are good.

You are good!!!

Did he hear me? 

I felt like something “clicked” in his eyes.  The glimpse of knowing.

I spoke out loud what he has known all along but couldn’t speak for himself.  We connected.  I understood.  I heard his heart.  He is not alone.

My mission is to speak words of life into this boy.  He is precious.  He is kind. He thinks of others.  He is smart.  He is worthy to be loved.

I cannot speak life while I am running around to different activities or busy on the phone.  I cannot speak love if I am irritated or tired or fearful. Speaking takes time.  It interrupts the schedule. Dinner might have to wait.  Appointments may have to be cancelled.

My own fears cannot trump truth.  My mind is saying “it’s no use, you will not be victorious.  You will fail.  You cannot undo the damage.  You cannot love.  Your words are not life, but platitudes of the flesh."

My heart cries out to a Living God!  “Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord. The Maker of heaven and Earth.”

Can I receive what I need to speak life? Can I live fearlessly? Can I live truth?  Can I live love?

Oh Father, help me.  I want to be filled with you. I want you to pour out spilling over my children. In my children. Cleansing the marks of shame. 

I am unable.

But I am enough because He is enough.

I am able because He is able.

Keep speaking. Take time. Heal wounds.

Watch the miracle!

Turning Seven!

My smallest boy is turning seven this Father’s Day.  We decided to have a few friends over and go to the park.  You would think that was a normal and even nice thing for a mother to do, wouldn’t you?  So we are in the car with friends filling the seats and he opens a gift his friend gave him.  He received a nice tape measure and a pair of working gloves.  After looking at the generous gift he replied, “I like the tape measure, but I don’t like the gloves.”  Which I immediately retorted, “Caleb Joshua Reginato (he knew he was in trouble by the use of the middle name), “you tell your friend thank you.”  And I proceeded to tell the six year old sitting next to him that, in fact, Caleb loved the gloves and would use them all the time. To which the little girl just stared at me with a blank face. 

We went to the park and had a lovely time, but when we got back home (the friends still with us), Caleb decided to ask the neighbor boy over to play games and have cake.  After the games were over, they all retired to Caleb’s room to play house.  They all were trying to fit into the closet ( I think they were using it for a bunk bed with one child on the floor of the closet and two others on the top shelf) when Caleb told his neighbor friend to leave his room because he wanted to play alone with his other friends.  I only found out about this because the little guy walked right past me in the kitchen, looking like he might cry.  So I marched into the closet and demanded to know what happened.  I was told the sad story and immediately had Caleb go apologize to his friend, which he did.

After all the kids went home, I asked Caleb if he had a good time at his party.  He said, “No, not really.” 

Isn’t that exactly how we are? 

We half heartedly accept gifts from God.

We are thankless for the wrapped treasures he places in our hands.

We love self more than others.

And it causes us to lose our joy.

What I get to share with my almost seven year old is that God’s mercy is new every morning.  That we get a do-over and we can start fresh by the power of His love. 

We can begin tomorrow with a renewed awe of the gifts we have been lavishly given.

We can excitedly unwrap even the smallest, precious treasures He gently places in our hands.

We can mend relationships and ask for forgiveness. And love others more than ourselves!

We can find our joy!

I asked my son before bedtime tonight if he could have done anything differently today.  He said, “I could have not been rude to my friend.”

Good job, son.

 Maybe seven won’t be so bad after all! 

My Story Part 8

I hate her!!! That was all could say about our first foster son’s birth mom.  How could a woman neglect her own child? How could a mother choose drugs over her kids?  I was appalled at the lack of love that this birth mother had for her son. And believe me when I say that the feeling was mutual.  She hated me.  She hated that her son was calling me mom. She hated that I got to take care of him and love him and feed him every day.  But you really can’t blame me, can you?  I was in this for the sweet child in our care.  To show him the love of God and to pray protection over his precious heart.  Why would I want to care for his neglectful mother?  She chose the life she was living and her son had no choice in the matter.  He had to go along for the ride. 

This hatred ran cold in my veins.  I truly couldn’t stand this woman. I wanted nothing to do with her.  But God had other plans.  One day I was on my knees praying about my anger.  Not that God would forgive me for it, but that He would strike her with lightening or make her leave the country.  As I was praying and looking out my living room window, it started to rain.  Now up until then it was a bit cloudy.  But as I talked to God about this woman, it began to pour.  Not just rain, but the floodgates of heaven opened and it gushed down like a waterfall.  It wasn’t peaceful and beautiful.  It was a torrent of rage being poured onto the earth.  And at that moment, God spoke to my heart so clearly, that I nearly fell on my face in His presence.  He said that He was even angrier than I was over the pain of this child.  That He would take of it and I was to leave the punishment to Him.  And lastly, I was to love her.  Love her?  Did I hear that right?  You are kidding me God, right?  No reply came.  I was summoned to love a woman I hated.  I knew better than to deny God.  So I began calling her and asking about her life.  I started to pray for her.  And my heart began to soften.  I asked her if I could pray for her and soon was praying with her.  And she desperately wanted to be loved.  I only wanted to do foster care to love the child.  But here was a grown up child who needed the same love.  When I found out about her past and all she had been through, I grieved for this woman.  And God gave me a piece of His heart.  This mother was also hurt and abused and unloved.  She was just in a bigger body than her son.  I eventually fell in love with this woman.  I wanted nothing more for her to get her son back and live a healthy life.  I eventually asked her if she wanted to give her life over to the true Healer. 

  She became a Christian and my husband baptized her at our church.  She eventually got her son back.  I was torn.  I loved this boy with all of my heart.  But I knew where he belonged. We had to take our sweet boy and drop him off at a drug treatment center where his mom lived.  We had loved him for over a year.  As I handed this child over to his mom, my heart ached.  I would never again hold him.  Never tuck him in at night.  I would never again hear the word “mom” come out of his mouth again.  As we left the treatment center, we were in deep grief.  But as we drove, we both felt the Spirit of God in the car with us. He lifted us out of our sorrow and gave us hope.  We began singing along to praise music we had in our car and praising God for allowing us the honor of seeing a family put back together.  And it hit me!  We could love the child.  But what if we loved the birth mom too?  What if God could heal the child’s mother?  Then generations are forever changed.  This foster child would have a healed mother.  Families would be restored.  The chain of sin broken!  We decided in that car ride home that we would be resolved to love not only future foster kids, but to love their moms as well.  This was a seed that years later would become The Refuge.  A seed that was planted deep in my soul.  Freedom!  These moms and kids needed to be set free.  I knew just the person to do the job! Yes!  

My Story Part 7

Ugh! Not sure why I’m telling my story.  It was a good idea in the beginning, but it brings up such heart ache in my soul.  To be honest, I have never told anyone (except my hubby) all about my childhood illness and all the shame that went with it.  I have felt so vulnerable and sometimes I just wanna quit!  But somehow when I write it all out, it brings healing and restoration in some deep seeded areas of my heart.  Areas I didn’t even know I needed healing.  Ok…done with the “feeling sorry for myself” rant.  Here it goes….

So you may or may not be wondering how shame played out for me as a mom.  I was actively pursuing counseling and God by this time.  I was never going to give up until I was healed.  As I look back now, I think shame played out in not feeling like I was a good mother.  I loved my son more than life itself.  But I just couldn’t get the mom thing down.  So I began looking to my friends to teach me.  I learned so many things watching my friends be moms. The good, the bad and the really ugly!  I enjoyed being home with Nathan and he was a joy filled, happy boy. 

As I began a love affair with God, I fell deeper in love with Him every day.  He showed me how to forgive, to love and show grace to myself and others.  I couldn’t get enough of Bible study and I prayed all the time.  We started a Bible study in our home with other young couples. God was so real in my life.  When Nathan was 6 months old, we decided to become foster parents.  It is one of the first times I felt a real calling by God.  Listen to the story…..

Dave and I both felt really called to reach out to the lost world and make an impact for Christ.  And we also knew that our doctor told us to never get pregnant again because of the trauma with Nathan’s birth.  SO we wondered what it would be like to have other kids in our home.  Maybe we would adopt one day, so why not try foster parenting just to see how it would go.  Oh, dear reader, please remember that I was young and had no idea what I was getting in to.  So we started to pray.  We went to a meeting at the county, but they scared us away with their rules and beliefs about spanking.  So we were back to square one.  Then one day, my friend called me to ask if I had heard that our Sunday night service that same evening was going to be focused on foster care and adoption.  I couldn’t believe it.  We had never had a night at church like that nor one since.  Dave and I went and cried the whole service. It was like God orchestrated the entire evening for us.  We knew God was calling us to do this.  After the service, we met a man named Dale, who was recruiting foster families for a ministry called Advent.  We knew this was the place to get started.  They licensed us and helped us with everything we needed.  When Nathan was 18 months, we got the call of an 18mo boy that needed a home.  We jumped in the car with Dale and went to meet this boy at his current foster home.  We were so excited.  It was like Christmas and my birthday all wrapped in one.  Yet, when we walked into the home, all excitement faded.  The home was dirty.  There were many other kids there.  And this little boy had his own little corner of the living room caged in by gates.  It looked like he lived in his little cage and I could quickly see that he was dirty and had a dirty diaper as well.  I was sick with grief over the conditions this child was living in.  I told Dale, “I want him.”  And we made arrangements to pick him up a few days later.  It turned out that he was only 2 days younger than Nathan.  They looked like twins, both having blond hair and blue eyes.  It also turned out that this sweet boy had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, which affected his speech and motor skills.  We loved having “twins”.  I was asked all the time if they were twins, which I would reply, “yes”.  As much as we loved our new boy, we began to become angry.  When you have other kids in your home, you do not see them like you see your own kids.  Dave and I both felt this anger grasping at our hearts.  It was so depressing.  Here we were….rescuing a poor, helpless baby……and we were angry.  Talk about pathetic.  What kind of parents were we?  We loved on him and cared deeply for him.  But the anger was an indication that we had unresolved crap from our past.  This had nothing to do with our sweet addition.  It had everything to do with our damaged hearts. 

Enter the first, but not the last, birth mom that we would encounter in our 18 years of foster parenting.  Her story is so amazing that I need one blog just for her.  I’ll just give you a little hint….we hated each other!!!

The Motherless

It’s Mother’s Day.  Just like many moms, I am being spoiled and loved and graced with cards and food and gifts.  But my heart is also broken for the millions of kids without a home or a woman to call mamma.  Our church dedicated today to promote adoption.  Our pastor gave an amazing sermon that made me think even more.  He talked about how much God loves the fatherless and how He wants to be the Father to the fatherless.  But who is their mother?  It is the Bride of Christ.  In other words…you and me.  He stated some statistics and the one that caught my attention was that if we put all the orphans in one place, they would fill enough land to become the 7^th largest country in the world.  After the service, there were various agencies with tables who gave out information on foster care and adoption.  Throughout the foyer there were pictures of kids in Colorado who were waiting for parents to take them home.  All these kids were not going to go back to their parents and now waited to find a home.  They encouraged us to take a picture of one of the children to take home and pray over them.  There were about 100 pictures of various kids all around the church.  Does this seem wrong to anyone? Why is it that we need to take beautiful pictures, with their hair perfect and posing just right, and stick them up on the church walls to hopefully get them a family?  Why are there not droves of Christians clamoring to take one of these kids home?  Why do we need to dress them up and hope for the best?  This is not just unbelievable…it is wrong!  Where are you church?  Why doesn’t every single child on those church walls have a home?  I know we have our reasons.  We don’t have the money.  We can’t even handle our own kids.  We don’t have time.  I realize that not every family can take in a child.  Some are not in a place to do so.  But what about those who shut their eyes and ears to the cry of the fatherless? I know it’s scary.  I know it’s a risk.  I know it may fail.  God may not be calling you to take in an orphan.  But what if He is?  Have you ever asked Him?  Is your heart beating with His?  Even if you may not be able to take in a child, there is plenty for the church to do.  You can sponsor a child in Africa.  You can pray and be a mentor to a foster child or a foster family.  If you can’t be the mother or father, you can support those who can.  You can give money so a family can adopt a baby from China.  You can bring meals to that family who adopted 4 kids from the Ukraine.  You can listen to their cries and do something…anything. 

I know I’m being a bit harsh, but I believe something is wrong here.  There should not be kid’s pictures on the church walls who are homeless and family-less.  After all, God adopted you.  He adopted you when you didn’t look pretty.  When you were knee deep in sin. Even when you rejected Him, He called you Son and Daughter and gave you a home.  Can’t we as a church do the same?  We are the “mother” to the fatherless.  I know, not the feel good Mother’s Day message you were expecting.  But my “mother’s heart” is burning with conviction and urgency about these kids having a home.  Every child deserves to have a home. Not one should be left without a family.

Do not turn a deaf ear to the ones so precious to the God of the universe.

Listen to their cry.

Listen to His heart.

Hear what the Spirit is saying to church! Hear God’s heart for the orphan!

He loves them with a passion….will you?

Where is your heart?

I was having one of those days.  You know the ones.  You wake up in the morning and even though you drank your caffeine for the day, you are still not quite awake.  And then the kids get up.  They don’t put the cereal away and leave jam on the counter.  They need to get to school, but they act like they have 8 hours to get ready.  The youngest can’t find one shoe and my daughter is running late and doesn’t have time to make her lunch.  And here I am….still not awake and feeling overwhelmed by it all.  I am irritated.  I am tired. I am ready to run away from it all.  The reason I’m tired is because we have an almost 7 year old that still climbs in bed with us during the night.  And he is a cuddler (that is probably not a word, but should be).  He doesn’t just lie next to you, he lays ON you!  Now I will cuddle with him when I’m awake, but in the middle of the night? No way!  I want my space when I’m sleeping.  But he kept laying on me and I kept pushing him off me all night.  I was gearing up for a long day.

But then something happened.  Not a big something, but a few little somethings that turned my day around.  It started when I was in my bathroom getting ready for my day.  I heard my youngest yelling “MOM”….”MOM!”  So I followed the voice into the back yard where I found my boy at the top of a huge pine tree.  I mean it was taller than my house.  He was at the tippy top hanging on, in my opinion, to the flimsiest limb in the world.  But it caught me so off guard that I just laughed out loud.  He asked me take a picture of him before he descended to the safety of the ground.  I took one and it made me happy to see my son in that tree.  I don’t know why, it just did. 

On our way to school, we saw a hot air balloon in the sky.  Near where we live we see them all the time in the summer, but only occasionally in the winter and spring.  Every time I see a hot air balloon I smile.  Again, I don’t know why, but they make me happy.

After I dropped the kids off at school I had to go to an appointment and as I turned on the radio, Keith Green was playing.  He is my very favorite artist.  I am so challenged by his life.  But you never hear him on the radio anymore.  Then it hit me.  My attitude had changed.  I began to realize that the boy in the tree, the hot air balloon and the song were little gifts.  Gifts to be thankful for.  I began to praise God for these little treasures.  And my heart began to worship.  Being thankful can really change your day.  How about you?  Where is your heart today?  Can you think of little gifts in your day already that you can thank God for?  Tell me about what you are thankful for today.  I dare you!

My Story Part 6

Being married was everything I wanted and more.  I realized that I didn’t know how to cook, clean or manage my money.  The first thing Dave did after we got home from our honeymoon was cut up my credit card.  I learned for the first time how to save for things and shop for a good price before I bought.  I also learned how to clean, but not very well.  My lack of cooking and cleaning skills made for big conflict between us.  You see, my husband is what I call a “cleanie”.  He loves things organized and clean.  He felt disrespected when I didn’t put something away or clean it properly.  This was to become the biggest conflict in our marriage.  I’m happy to tell you that we have overcome this issue, with occasional back sliding.  I began to have panic attacks and tons of anger.  I had already been in counseling and it was bringing so much to the surface.  I was constantly fearful and did not feel God helping me.  With this turmoil coupled with the fact that I was less than the wife my husband desired, the shame reared its ugly head yet again.  I was trying to work through it and God gave me a lot of insight and truth during these years of self discovery.  Over time, the panic attacks ceased and my fear subsided….for now.

Then I got pregnant!  I was still at San Jose State and working part time as a medical assistant.  I was told when I was young that because of my illness, I should not get pregnant.  But I wanted a child more than anything.  When we found out, Dave went to the health food store and bought all kinds of veggies and healthy snacks.  In his mind, I was going to fill my body with good nutrition.  Then the morning sickness began.  Those of you who have been pregnant know that when you have morning sickness, you just want to eat what you want to eat.  So the veggies went out the window and Taco Bell became my best friend.  During my pregnancy, I was having kidney infections and high blood pressure.  I was taking antibiotics that I shouldn’t have been taking, but I had to take them to keep the infections at bay.  Because of my sickness, I had to quit college and put my job on hold.  When I was 31 weeks, Nathan Victor Reginato came into the world at 3lbs 12oz.  It was a traumatic birth and once again I felt that my body had failed me.  It is such a scary feeling when you don’t hear your baby crying after the birth.  They showed him to me for a second and then whisked him off to the NICU.   I told Dave to go with the baby, while the doctors and nurses took care of me.  They gave me a sedative because I was really upset.  I had hated drugs up until then.  But when that feeling of relaxation came streaming through my body, I was thankful for drugs.  I wanted to stay on those sedatives forever.  It was hours before I could see my precious Nathan.  When they wheeled me into the NICU and I saw him, I melted in sorrow.  Somehow I felt this was my fault.  He was naked and had tubes and wires all over him.  He had a tube down his lungs to help him breathe and the mask on his face seemed to take up his whole body.  I couldn’t really see him through the nurses that were working on him.  I cannot tell you the grief and despair I felt over seeing my tiny boy, strapped down in pain.  Oh, how this brought up the pain from my childhood.  How many times was I strapped down in my bed of pain.  I couldn’t bear to watch this happen to my son. How I anguished in my hospital bed all night.  I had to watch TV to distract me from my emotional pain.  I couldn’t even lie still in my bed.  I was writhing in anguish.  When they discharged me, I fell apart.  At least while I was in the hospital I could be with my boy.  But now I had to leave him with people who had total control over him.  They could mistreat him and he couldn’t even cry out for his mama to save him.  In my dreams, I saw myself being wheeled out of the hospital with my precious in my arms.  But instead, I was wheeled out with paperwork and emptiness.  A few days later I had a severe kidney infection.  It was festering for a while and I just thought the pain was from the birth.  So I landed back in the hospital on the same floor as my son.  It was so stressful to see Nathan make progress and then fail to progress. Nathan spent one month in the NICU and came home weighing 4lbs.  The NICU nurses made sure I got wheeled out with my baby in my arms this time.  I was so thrilled to have him home.