Hey there, friends.

I know this space has been eerily quiet recently and I'm sorry. It turns out when you are launching a book, it feels like you're yelling in a lot of different directions, and some (aka MANY) parts of your life get pushed aside. It seems weird to have pushed away a writing space when you're saying "Hey! Look what I have written!" but I don't think I had any words left after launching my first book, so it's probably for your benefit.

If you've been here a while, you may be wondering, what's happening with McKinley? Or if you're new here, you are like "What am I even doing here, I don't know who this person is?!" Either way, I need to let you in on a little secret that is about to infiltrate our entire little world with a whole lot of love - we are getting another foster babe! I have approximately one million things I want to tell you about this little fella, but I'm going to save that for a post next week. For now, I want to share an article I wrote for our local Foster Care Newsletter that answers one of the most common questions I get, "How difficult is it to serve as a Foster Family when you're in the military?" 

I answer that question a lot, and wanted to offer up a little insight into why I believe that Military Families are incredibly well-suited to be amazing foster parents. So without further ado, here is the article I wrote...

​It was a crisp, autumn afternoon in Virginia and my phone began to ring. I slid my finger across the screen and put the phone to my ear, “Are you sitting down?” my husband asked.
 
My heart dropped. What could it be? He had just gotten back from a six-month deployment two weeks earlier. Please tell me he isn’t going again. Has someone died? The questions kept brewing in my brain before I had the strength to find a chair. “Yes, I’m sitting. Is everything ok?”
 
“You’re never going to believe this,” he said, “but I just got orders and we are moving to Hawai’i!”
 
“Are you serious? That’s amazing!” I retorted, “But please, don’t ever scare me like that again.”
 
For the next several months, I dreamt about palm trees, beautiful beaches, learning the Hawaiian culture, and obtaining the golden tan I always longed for as a child. Little did I know that there was so much more for us to discover during our tour in Hawai’i.
 
Any military family knows that the moving process is all consuming. It took us at least a month before we began to surface above the boxes and packing paper and logistics that come with moving an entire household across an ocean. But, once the dust had settled, we were excited to face our Hawaiian adventure head-on.
 
That’s when we met Mary and Troy. They lived just a few doors down from us on base, with children the same ages as our own. But, in addition to their biological children, Mary and Troy were also serving as resource caregivers. I had never met a military resource family before, and was intrigued by the idea of it. I began bombarding them with questions about the licensing process and how foster care intersects with military life. I mean foster care is so unpredictable, so uncertain, so emotionally draining, right? Could my little military family handle it?
 
And then, as if the answer fell from the sky, I realized that these struggles weren’t so foreign to me after all. Aren’t we, as military families, experts at handling unpredictable situations— like when orders come through at the last minute? Are we not adept at wading through uncertain waters of pending deployments and imminent Temporary Duty Assignments? Don’t we guide our families through all of the emotions that are associated with moves and deployments, however draining it may be? In many ways, the struggles of resource families are the same ones military families face.
 
Maybe we could handle it, I thought, but is two to three years enough time to make a difference? It was about this time in our foster care exploration that I read this quote by Mother Teresa, “We know only too well that what we are doing is nothing more than a drop in the ocean. But if the drop were not there, the ocean would be missing something.” The words hit me like a ton of bricks. Serving doesn’t have to look like a twenty-year investment. It doesn’t take decades to love your neighbors well. Mother Teresa’s words pierced my heart and reassured me that while our transient lifestyle doesn’t allow us to invest long-term in communities, we must not forego the opportunities afforded to us in the short-term.
 
As much as the frequent moves seem to disrupt our lives as military families, I choose to see them as opportunities for new beginnings. Here in Hawai’i we have chosen to serve as resource caregivers, but when we move away from the island, our service to our new community might look different. The choice to foster while on military orders is a temporary commitment, which allows each family to fully invest in the system for a finite time period. For us, foster care looked like the right short-term opportunity.
 
In December of 2015 we received our first foster placement.  During his time in our care, we dealt with bumps along the way and faced any uncertainty head-on while wondering how long he would remain in our home. But most importantly, through this experience, we have been able to not only enjoy the opportunities Hawaii has to offer, but also invest in its communities—giving back just a portion of the gifts Hawai’i has given us.
 
In May 2016, we said “good-bye” to our first foster child, as he went to live with family. I wondered how my boys, ages four and two, would respond. He was very much a part of our family, but I was surprised his departure didn’t rock the family boat more. My boys still ask about him, but they aren’t distraught. They still include him in family drawings, but aren’t grieving. I, on the other hand, have been a bit of a mess at times. Why are they so resilient? Sure, part of it comes from the innocence of youth, but I realized soon after our foster child’s departure, that the boys talk about him much like they talk about their friends from Virginia. Their experience as military kiddos has prepared them well for this transition. Their ability to love deeply while in the presence of friends, but also transition into a new normal without their friends is simply a byproduct of being a military brat. I clearly have a lot to learn from my boys.
 
While I never imagined that the military life would lead us to foster care, the connection isn’t too far off base.  After all, in order to serve our nation well, we have to adequately care for our local community. And so, we are incredibly grateful for the opportunity to serve as resource caregivers and invest in the people of Hawai’i for as long as Uncle Sam allows.


***This article was original published in Hui Ho'omalu's Building Connections Newsletter

He’s leaving us tomorrow. I mean…they are taking him away. Or should I say they found him another home? I’m not sure which way to say it because all the words sting.
 
Don’t they know I listened to him speak his first words? Or that he called me “mommy” long before the age that either of my boys gave me that title? Don’t they know I spent weeks desperately trying to get him on a schedule – rocking his little body, rubbing his back, crying out in exhaustion wondering how on Earth I would care for this child? Don’t they know my boys call him “brother”? What will they think when their “brother” no longer lives with us? Will they wonder if their time in this home is conditional, too – if it’s temporary? Don’t they know that I can’t cook dinner without wearing him on my back? Or that the minute I put him down, he cries “Hold me, mommy” until I reach out again to scoop him up? I mean, seriously, DON’T THEY KNOW?

​It’s been four weeks since we found out our little BF** was leaving us. We sat face-to-face with the social worker as she broke the news slowly. I could tell she was surprised – surprised that the state had found family who were not only interested in caring for him, but also suitable caretakers. My mouth became dry, the tears began to well up under the surface. A knot filled my throat and I was unable to speak. My brain was going through the facts, “Come on, McKinley. You knew this was a possibility. It is Foster Care, after all.” But my heart was cracking because deep down I pictured him in our family forever. And, to be honest, I had to. I couldn’t be anything less than all in. All in to caring for him. All in to including him. All in to loving him unconditionally. All in to nurturing him and teaching him and shepherding him as if he was my own. But the risk of being all in is that you have it all to lose.
 
“So now what?” I wondered. Are they going to just show up one day and take him away? Is he going to cry uncontrollably as they pry him away from my body? Will I be able to let him go? Are we going to stare at each other with tears in our eyes as the state car drives away, taking him to his fourth home in seven months?  Are we going to see him again or will we forever wonder what his little life holds?
 
The questions kept filling my brain as I stared at the social worker and did my best to stay calm and nonchalant. “Oh, yes, I’m ok”, I muttered. “I always knew this was a possibility. I’m so thankful he gets to live with some family members.” The right words were flowing from my mouth, but my heart was wrenching inside my chest. 

**BF is the term I use when referring to our foster child. It stands for "Baby Friend" since that is what my sons referred to him as long before he entered our house.

This is the 4th post in a series, "Foster Care? I could never do that". Click here for the previous post. 

​Since we started dating, Daniel and I have discussed the possibility of adopting a child. My adoption heart has been drawn to Ethiopia, then to Haiti, and then came full circle back home to the United States. But despite our desire to adopt a baby, we shied away from foster care because of the other reasons I talked about here, here and here. And even though we had discussed the idea of adoption, it was often an after thought – we will adopt AFTER we have our bio kids, or we will adopt AFTER we have the finances in place or we will adopt AFTER our other kids are grown.  I liked the idea of adoption, but it came with many conditions – conditions that I could control and quantify.
 
Growing up I pictured my family with four children – three biological little blondies and a wild card spot that could be filled by either an adopted child or another biological one. From the minute my second son arrived, I have referred to him as my middle child, not my youngest—he was just another stepping stone to building our family. If I talked to you last May, I would have told you we would start trying to get pregnant in August of 2015, because that was what MY life plan looked like.  I guess God had a different idea.
 
There is no doubt in my mind that I want more children permanently in my home – so why then, would we consider foster care if we must risk giving a child back? That’s a great question—one that I asked myself (and God) approximately one bazillion times. (I would have made a great Pharisee, always asking questions trying to stump Jesus.) Unfortunately for me, He keeps providing answers to every single one of my questions. It’s starting to get annoying.