Rich in Love: When God Rescues Messy People (16 page)

It came as a relief when we learned their mom would be put away for a long time. She and a friend had snatched a toddler when she was a young teen high on meth. When the sheriffs arrived, the accomplice threw the child out the window. So the mom had served over a ten-year sentence before marrying the girls’ dad. As a result of the prior conviction, the worker believed that these girls could be long-term in our home and then would shortly be moved into the foster-adoption program.

“Domingo,” I said to him that night after we’d gotten all the kids to bed, “I think we should adopt these girls.”

He said, “We can’t adopt every child who comes our way.”

“I know, Mingo. But these little girls …”

“I remember sitting in the agency office a little over a year ago, where you insisted you only wanted short-term kids. You did
not
want to adopt under any circumstance. That’s not what we’re here for, you said.”

“Well, maybe I was wrong.”

“You seem to forget—we’re over fifty. And if we adopt, we won’t be able to help very many kids. Isn’t that what we came here for? To help kids be reunified with their parents?”

I knew he was right, but it was still hard for me to let go.

jail visit

Elaine
hated
her mom and was afraid of her at the same time. And while Elaine wanted nothing to do with her, Evelyn did—but only for the presents she figured her mom would bring her. She didn’t want to stay with her mom; she only wanted the goodies.

I will admit, I admired their mom’s persistence. She managed to get a judge to give her a visit with the girls. The only problem was, it had to take place in jail. The day I got the call, my world stopped. My heart was beating fast, my hand shaking as a storm brewed inside me. I felt contempt and a crazy sort of frenzy. What could I do? How could I stop this? I went and told Domingo, and I could tell he was sickened as well. We knew Elaine wouldn’t be able to handle a visit with her mother—especially one in jail. We figured Evelyn would cope somehow, but we both felt Elaine would break. We prayed and begged God to cancel the visit, but to my disappointment that didn’t happen. 

The girls had just started opening up. They were smiling. And now we were going to make them visit their mother? When we told the girls, Elaine threatened to run away, and Evelyn cried. 

The social worker had been fighting very hard for the girls and knew that a visit like this would be detrimental. The court order had tied her hands as well. Knowing how much the social worker cared for these girls helped a lot. And she promised she would stay with them the entire time.

I visited someone in prison once. The experience was frightening. Each time a door clanged shut behind me, I could feel a rumble and stirring in my bowels. How would these little girls feel each time a door was closed behind them? 

That morning my husband and I reluctantly handed the crying, frightened girls over to the social worker. Then we went inside to pray and fast. Domingo grabbed my hand. “Irene. These are God’s children, not ours. He will protect them.”

Later that day, we heard the car pull up with the girls and ran outside to greet them. By the look on the social worker’s face, I knew things had not gone well. Elaine bolted out of the car and ran straight to her room. Evelyn jabbered on about the jail and the food and gifts she got. Sisters—the same blood, yet so different. One let out too much, and the other held everything back. 

The social worker came with me into the house. Once we got Evelyn settled in another room, playing with the other kids, the social worker was able to tell me what had happened.

Elaine had held on to the social worker with all her might, shaking and trembling like a little leaf the entire time. She put her head down, refusing to look at her mom. All Evelyn did was nervously talk about the snacks their mom gave them and play with the gifts.

The social worker was not happy about the visit and the effect on the girls. “I’m going to make sure these girls never have to go through this again,” she told me. She kept her word and fought hard on behalf of the girls. When the courts understood their fearful experience, they did not require the girls to go to the jail for another visit. 

dealing with the girls’ behavior

Since Raymond and Rose were close in age, I’d put them together in a play area with toys in front of each of them. It didn’t matter what Rose had, she wanted Raymond’s toys. He let her take things from him and picked up a different toy to play with. Over and over he’d relinquish what he had so she could have it. And yet he had a special connection with her. He always watched out for her. Rose was so messed up, but he brought life to her and helped her heal. With his sweet little hands he patted her softly and said, “It’s ’k, Rose.” For a long time those were his only words. Who would’ve thought my little thug would have such a tender heart?

The big girls seemed to be adjusting overall, but they had a meanness about them that worried me. Elaine did all the right things in front of us. She helped out with everything—especially the baby. Like the others, she idolized George and followed him around. She was kind and good to the other kids, playing with Samantha and the babies. But the sad thing was, she didn’t like Evelyn, and she made that obvious with her actions. She stole Evelyn’s clothes, hid them, and threw them away. She took Evelyn’s toys and broke them. She’d look at her sister with disgust and say, “I hate you.” I asked her why she told Evelyn she hated her, and she said, “My mom made her an egg sandwich and bought her a balloon for her birthday, and she never did anything for me.”

Having experienced a similar situation in my childhood, I told her, “I understand how you feel, Elaine, but you need to love your sister.”

She began to cry, then walked away.

Evelyn was no saint. This girl could spew the most wicked and vile things back at her sister. She used words you might hear grown men say in anger. I would stare, astonished. How could such ugly words come out of such beautiful lips?

It seemed as though I never got off my knees for very long before I had to go back to God for more wisdom. “Lord, help,” I prayed. “Show me how to handle these girls. You created them and you brought them to us. Please teach me how to care for them and train them.”

Once when Evelyn was spewing vicious words, I told her she’d lost all but two hundred of her words for the rest of the day. The next day, she’d be allowed five hundred words. For every mean word she spoke, I would take away twenty-five from her “allowance.” If she didn’t use all her words for the day, she could save them in her “bank” and use them for the next day. She wanted to collect her words in her bank, so she tried to save as many as she could. She was so busy counting her words and saving them that she started to learn how to guard her tongue.

We also noticed odd behavior in Evelyn. She was always talking to someone who wasn’t there. One afternoon I listened by her bedroom door and realized she was talking to a girl in a cage. She opened the cage to let her out, talked to her, then put her back in and locked the cage. She seemed to spend more time in this fantasy world than in our real world. All she wanted to do was go upstairs and play with the girl in the cage. I understood vivid imaginations. After all, I was a dreamer as a child. And I still talk out loud to myself and God. However, I would be setting the girl in the cage free, not locking her up.

As time went on, I realized that when things got tough and Evelyn didn’t want to cope, she retreated to a make-believe world. She was (and still is) very creative and has a fascinating imagination. I didn’t mind the imagination, just that it was very dark. She has said no one has hurt her. Knowing Evelyn, I think she would have told me if someone had. I think her dark, strange behavior grew out of the craziness in her home.

If she didn’t want to obey, she could throw a mighty fit of rage. These fits were pretty daunting. She stomped her feet, shook her hands, rolled her eyes back in her head, and let out a high-pitched squealing cry. The tantrum could last for hours. Nothing worked to calm her, and none of us could handle it, so we gave her the downstairs bathroom as her own private rage space. We told her she could come back upstairs and join the rest of the family when she was done squealing. At first it terrified the other kids, and they got panicky when they heard her. Over time, though, the kids just stopped momentarily before saying, “It’s only Evelyn.” We believe those tantrums are why she can now sing so well and hold a note so long. She had a lot of practice exercising her vocal cords!

Rose’s story

It was a lazy Saturday. Domingo had taken all the boys off to do boy things. I walked into the living room to find Evelyn doing something odd to Rose. She was taking her legs and holding them behind her. Elaine was looking closely and trying to help.

I looked at them a moment, then said, “What are you guys doing?”

“We’re trying to figure out how Grandma and Greg tied Rose up,” Evelyn said.

“What are you talking about?” My heart began to beat a little harder.

And they began to share their story.

One night their mom came home high and fell asleep on the sofa. The girls had not been alone. When their mother’s husband, Rose’s father, was taken to prison, she moved them all in with their grandmother and a man named Greg—both meth users.

Some time after their mom had fallen asleep, they could hear Rose screaming in the bathroom.

Elaine ran to her mother and shook her. “Wake up, Mom, wake up!” Mom didn’t wake up, so Elaine shook her harder, screaming, “Please, Mom, get up—Mom, please! It’s Rose!” Her mother still didn’t wake up.

Elaine and Evelyn ran to the bathroom, and through the door they could see Rose undressed, her hands and feet tied behind her back. The man held her, and Grandma was doing something to her. “She was giving her medicine, I think,” Elaine said. Elaine got so mad and tried to wake her mother again.

I’m not sure what happened next. But their mom eventually woke up. And when she found out what had happened, she knifed Greg, but not so badly that he needed serious medical care. After a few days, they were getting high together again. I was later told this man was a registered sex offender under Megan’s Law.

We now understood why Rose had the physical problems she did. We understood why Elaine was so angry at her mom. We still didn’t know how Rose got meth in her system. Was that the “medicine” Grandma was giving her that night? Or had she picked it up from residue?

This revelation of Rose’s abuse was a rude awakening for us. The baby was only sixteen months old. Think how much she must have suffered!

As more stories began to tumble out, we learned that Elaine cooked and cared for the other girls because their mother did not. Elaine was the mama and still only a baby herself.

There was no longer a question about what our next steps would be. Domingo and I knew what we had to do. How could we be called Christians and not help the helpless? From this point on we would fight hard to protect these girls God had plucked out of their misery.

chapter 16

provision

home addition

The year 2006 started out reasonably calm. At least as calm as a family can be with seven children in various stages of health, adoption, visitations, and counseling. And, at this point, our home was bursting at the seams. Our sleeping arrangements were fine with us but not with the county. Raymond stayed in our room; Esther and Rose slept in the loft; George shared a room with Kurt; and Samantha, Evelyn, and Elaine were in one room. Soon Raymond would be three years old, and Rose would be right behind him, turning three a couple of months later. The law stated that once children turned three, they could no longer sleep in the same room as an adult. Where would we put them? There were supposed to be only two children to a room, and since we already had three girls in the one room, we simply couldn’t put Rose in there. In order to keep all the children we had, we needed more space. The county had made many exceptions on our behalf, but we had reached the end of its generosity. It gave us one year to increase the size of our house to comply with the requirements for foster homes, or we would have to give back two of the kids.

From the beginning, we’d planned to expand the house, but we ran into an unexpected financial roadblock and didn’t have the funds to build the addition we needed. Defeated, I asked God why he would bring us this far and then expect us to decide which kids to give back. I couldn’t understand what God was trying to teach us.

One day I was sitting in a parking lot, talking to a social worker on the phone about the possibility of losing two of our kids, when I looked up and saw a small sign with the name of a construction company on it in a building window. The size and placement of the sign seemed odd. I thought,
God, are you telling me something?

As I always did when I felt prompted, I prayed.
Lord, can you somehow use this company to show us how we can build an addition with the money we have in our savings? I know we don’t have enough … but you spoke the universe into existence. This is an easy task for you, Lord. I will not be anxious but will wait on you.

God had brought us to a new place, given us jobs, and brought us children, and now I had to wait and believe he would give us more space. I would like to say I was confident, but I must confess I felt more like Gideon—nervous and uncertain about how to pray. So I kept praying the same prayer, adding a different twist to it each time.

After many months had gone by, we were asked to share our story at church. As I told my part of our story, I mentioned that we needed more room for our children and I was waiting on God to show us what we needed to do. Then Domingo got up and shared his conviction that we (as a church) need to start taking care of the orphans in our own community before we go to other countries to adopt children.

Some time later, my husband got a call from a man named Greg Bolin, who was the head of the men’s ministry at our church. Apparently he had wanted to start a building ministry. The leadership team wanted to do something that gave men the ability to use their God-given talents, but they didn’t know what that looked like. Greg remembered our testimony when he saw Domingo walking in front of him in the church courtyard, and God made it evident that he needed to approach Domingo and ask him what kind of help we needed. So this kind man called Domingo, and they met for lunch. Greg shared his idea about getting the guys in our church to help us build an addition. When Domingo came home he told me the story. “They’ll take care of all the labor. But there’s one catch—we’ll have to pay for parts and supplies.”

“How much would that cost us?”

Domingo laughed. “Exactly what we have in the bank.”

“Who is this guy?”

Then he told me the name of the construction company. I couldn’t believe it. I had no idea the owners went to our church. “Domingo, I’ve been praying specifically for this company to help us in some way with the addition.”

It was an unbelievable time as the men broke ground and got busy working on this project. We were pretty new in the church, so it was mind-boggling that they would help us. It took a little over six months for them to add the twelve hundred square feet we needed.

Not long ago I was talking with Greg and told him about the prayer I had prayed in the parking lot when I looked up and saw his company’s sign.

Greg looked puzzled. “What sign did you see?”

“A small sign in your office window.”

He looked even more confused. “We didn’t have any signs in the window.”

I described the sign and placement of it.

A light seemed to go on behind his eyes. “Oh. I remember that sign. UPS was having a hard time finding us, so we put it in the window for a few days until we were sure they wouldn’t have any more trouble.”

I marvel at this whole sequence of events. What were the odds that I would be in that parking lot to see that sign in the few days it was in the window? Or that the owner would hear Domingo and me speak and then see Domingo right when he was wondering what the men’s ministry should do?

We will be eternally grateful to all the men who labored so sacrificially, giving of their time, energy, and money to help us build the addition. God used these obedient and selfless people to do his work. Because of them, we were able to keep the children we had and make room to take in more if that’s what God wanted.

Before I ever started praying, God knew what he was going to do. But he urged me to pray so I would pay attention and see what he did on our behalf. Now when the Holy Spirit nudges me to pray for something, no matter how silly, impossible, or out of our reach it might seem, I just do it. I want to see God move mountains … because he can … and he does.

the girls’ dad

Our social worker called to tell me Elaine and Evelyn’s dad had contacted her office. He had been in jail for a while and had recently been released and wanted to see his girls. Elaine and Evelyn’s parents had met in juvenile hall when they were young. Dad was in a gang and had taken the life of a gang rival. Mom was there because of the charges of kidnapping and child endangerment. Both Mom and Dad were adults when they got out.

Elaine and Evelyn didn’t remember their dad. Apparently their mom took off with the kids when they were only three and two and wouldn’t let their father see them. By now it had been about five years since they’d seen him, so they really had no memories of him. But because of how things work in the foster care system, they didn’t have a choice. Elaine was adamant about not going. Someone told Evelyn he had gifts for them. She didn’t want to see him but asked if he could send them the gifts.

The girls were afraid to go on the visit with their dad, but it wasn’t like the fear of visiting their mom in jail. It was the fear of visiting a virtual stranger that unnerved them. Fortunately the first visit had been scheduled to take place at the agency, a place that was familiar to them.

Dad kindly called to talk to them on the phone beforehand, hoping that would soften the blow. I spoke to him before handing the receiver to the girls, and he seemed truly kind and gentle. Their first visit was reasonably successful. Nothing horrible happened. It was just uncomfortable for all of them. It was clear Elaine still didn’t want anything to do with her dad, and although Evelyn liked his attention, she pursed her lips and acted really shy and sheepish.

As the visits continued, Dad began to bring his girlfriend—who the kids knew through their mother—on the visits. He didn’t have restrictions for supervised visitation like their mom had, so when he came to town, he was able to do fun things with the girls. That didn’t matter to Elaine. She wanted to stay home. Evelyn was fine until she found out she might have to live with them; after that she didn’t want any more visits.

the first Garcias

In October 2006, we celebrated our first finalized adoption by going to Denny’s. That’s what the kids wanted, so off we went with the gang. Although we’d started Kurt’s process first, Samantha and Raymond became the first official Garcias. Their adoption was easy and quick. So much for getting “short-term only” kids and not getting attached! I think God just smiles at our plans, knowing he’s going to change them anyway—along with our hearts.

One morning, not long after Samantha’s and Raymond’s adoptions were final, I came into the living room to see Samantha wearing a crown on her head, walking regally down the stairs. Elaine and Evelyn were walking behind her, holding a make-believe train. “This is Queen Samantha!” they said as they continued their ceremony. “She is a queen because now she is a
real
Garcia. She
belongs
.”

Until then I hadn’t realized how badly the girls wanted to be adopted, to belong and be a part of our family. I know this might sound weird, but it made me think about our place as children of God. When God adopts us, we are heirs with Christ and become kings and queens. Now whenever I think about being heirs with Christ, I see Samantha with her crown, floating down the stairs. How special we are to God!

the van—2007

One of the county’s requirements was that we needed to have a vehicle large enough to fit all of us at the same time. With our growing family, that meant we needed a large vehicle, preferably a fifteen-passenger van. We’d used all our money on the addition, so we figured we’d buy a used van on credit.

God had shown us he was faithful and would provide for all of our needs, and this certainly qualified. We began praying for a van, fully believing that God would provide one, but thought it might take a while. As we started looking, we saw that used vans—especially ones the size we needed—were quite expensive, which reinforced the reality that we would have to finance one.

As I prayed, the thought came to me that maybe instead of financing a van through the bank, we should increase our tithing, giving the money to God instead. I know that doesn’t make sense to most people. Thankfully, Domingo got it. When I shared my convictions with him, he said, “Let’s do it.” So we increased the amount of our tithe to what a van payment would be. I was so excited. I was really going to trust God for this van.

Then I found the perfect one. It was a year old with only eleven thousand miles on it and reasonably priced. It was like new and the deal of a lifetime—but we still didn’t have the money.

My faith faltered like doubting Thomas. I kept thinking we would never find another one as good, so maybe we should go ahead and finance it. In my struggle, I knew I could either get a van my way … or I could trust God. I wanted to trust, so I put the van out of my mind.

A few days later our accountant called to tell us we were getting a substantial amount of money back from our income taxes. When we sold our business, we’d overpaid the taxes. Of course—it was the exact amount we needed for the van.

By the time the men had completed our addition, we also had a fifteen-passenger van. So God supplied the space and a van, and now all we needed was the kids to complete our family.

The girls had been with us over a year. Rose was regularly visiting her parents, who had reconciled. Raymond’s and Samantha’s adoptions gave them stability. The tough little Chicken Hawk now belonged to us. No longer Mama’s boy, he was attached to his new dad, following him everywhere. The battle for Kurt seemed never ending, but at least he was with us and doing very well physically and mentally. Steady George loved being a big brother and played his role so well.

Elaine and Evelyn didn’t have visits with their mom but did have regular visits with their dad. I was so brokenhearted. It looked like he was going to get custody of them. The girls loved us and their new home. For the first time in their lives they were feeling the stability of a family and were growing in leaps and bounds. They had started calling us Mom and Dad and begged us not to let them be taken away. They were so anxious and distraught they couldn’t sleep.

We had met Elaine and Evelyn’s dad and talked to him on the phone weekly. He had made some real changes in his life, including attending all the classes that were required of him. He knew how we felt about the girls and how they felt about us. He was kind and thanked us for taking good care of his girls. And although he was trying to win their affection, the girls didn’t know him and didn’t really want to.

During one conversation, he shared a lot about his past and his regrets about his life. He told us he was a Christian now and had given his life to God.

I asked him if he would consider letting us have the girls, and he said he’d never stop fighting for them. We explained they had a lot of needs that included therapy and encouraged him to think about what was best for them—and reminded him that separating them from Rose would be detrimental.

A few weeks later he was coming to town for court, and he agreed to meet Domingo for dinner at a restaurant. As they talked, he continually blamed his ex-wife for the suffering of his girls. Then Domingo boldly asked him, “Where were you when they were picked up with their mom?”

He hesitated. “In jail.”

“Well, you weren’t there for them,” Domingo said. “They needed you, and you weren’t there. Their situation is as much your fault as their mom’s.”

The man’s face displayed a battle of emotions. Anger, maybe shock, sadness.

Domingo continued, “I only care about what’s best for the girls and what God wants for them.”

The man leaned forward. “I’m not going to give up my girls. I will fight for them until the end.”

“How can you give them the special care they need?” Domingo asked.

“My girlfriend will help.”

“I tell you what. Go home and pray about it. And I will too.”

I had been praying for their meeting to go well. As I prayed, I felt we needed to let the dad come to our home and see the girls in their environment. Just then Domingo called. “Irene, how do you feel about me inviting the girls’ dad over? I believe it’s our responsibility to show God’s love to him, no matter what.”

Sometimes showing God’s love is scary for me. We didn’t really know this man or what he might do once he knew where we lived. But I knew it was the right thing, so I agreed. A few weeks later we invited him and his girlfriend over for a barbecue. And the visit was good for all of us. I knew that this was God at work, changing my heart. I was always fearful of the parents of our kids, yet here I was inviting one over.
Wow.
I often forget the blessings I receive when I obey the prompting of the Spirit.