30 Posts Challenge: #6 Me and Foster Care, part 2

I mentioned before about home visits. Mom and dad would get us sometimes for the day, sometimes for a weekend. My mom was always promising to take us home. She would give us dates, but never did. There were always excuses. One visit we pulled up to the cottage on a day that we were suppose to go home, according to one of mom’s false promises. They told me to get out of the car. I refused. They grabbed for me and I would go to the other side of the car. They would try to pull me out but I would hang onto anything I could with all I had, screaming and crying, “I wanna go home! You promised we would go home! I wanna go home!”
I was screaming and crying so loud that every single person from that cottage was outside watching. So many of them had taken their turns of being mean and abusive, and they were all use to me being quiet, never complaining, hardly speaking. I thought that was the way it was suppose to be. I had spent many nights trying to figure out what I done to make my granddad, mom and dad go away. If I could just figure out what made them so mad. If I could just figure out what it was, I could fix it and promise to never do it again.  But now I was tired of the lying and wanted to go home.
They tried to use my dad’s influence because I was a daddy’s girl, but I wanted to go home! They tried hard to pull me out for a good bit. Finally they used 2 people on each side and cornered me. As they pulled me out I was screaming for my dad to help me or I would hate him. When they started driving away, I started screaming, “I hate you! I hate you! You’re not my dad! I don’t love you anymore! I hate you!” (I wasn’t referring to the time my mom said that me and my little brother weren’t his kids. I still didn’t understand all of that. What I got out of that was just something my mom said made my dad cry and she said God told her to tell him.) I was just so hurt that I didn’t want to believe anyone anymore.
Everyone outside just kept watching in silence, some of them crying. As I saw the car start go down the hill, I started run after them screaming, “I hate you! You’re not my dad! I hate you! I hate you!” One of the bigger boys chased me down the hill and held me down. I told him to let me go but he told me not till I calm down. So I said ok. As we got back to the cottage, I waited till he was inside and took back down the hill… still screaming… still crying. It took 2 of the men to grab me and hold me down. They took me back up to the cottage, closed the door, and I just cried and cried. I went to my room and cried myself to sleep. After that, I didn’t believe anyone anymore, and I really didn’t care what anyone said about anything. Life was the way it was and there was nothing I could do about it except not believe in false hope.
That incident was too much for my dad. Soon after that when our cottage was getting ready for church one evening, I was doing my dishwasher chore. Mom called and said she was coming for us. I didn’t believe her. I didn’t even think about her words. The house parents had said they were coming. I didn’t believe them. Suddenly my older brother was at the window saying hey. I thought “What are you doing away from your cottage? You’re gonna get in trouble.” He said, “They can’t do nothing to me now!” And I thought, “Oh yeah. You went home. How did you get here?” He said mom and them were there to take us home… and PRAISE GOD… we went home!!!
Now I know you’re probably wondering about what I said in the beginning. Why would I say God knew what He was doing? For one thing, home life had violence, death, filth, and God was constantly being used as the excuse to allow it. In foster care it was there too, but we were genuinely being taught about God’s word at least. They had me singing, which gave me a song that God gave me for life. The rules, the chores, the structure instilled in me much of what I live by today. But most importantly, God used all of that time crying, thinking, and even that day that I lost it, God was teaching me that He was the only one I can count on. He was the darkness. He was becoming my light in the dark.
Later in years, as my faith grew I would ask the Lord about those days, and struggled most with my mom. He opened my eyes and my heart to see her. She had lied to my grandmother when she was 16 that she was pregnant so she could marry and get away from home. My sister was born 13 months later. She had 4 kids within 4 years. We were total brats. When her dad died, that was her hero. That is when she put us in foster care. “Using God” was her honestly trying to follow him when she really didn’t know how yet. This completely changed my relationship with my mom, and began much needed healing. I was always a daddy’s girl, but this time with an understanding that God is to be first in my life above everyone else, and everything else. He is why I even have the mom and dad I do.  We all need him. So see… God knew exactly what He was doing.