7 & 8 Months!

My little primary family getting ice cream!

 

Time just goes by so quickly! I sat down today to do the 7th month update and realized it was time for the 8 month!! So, blog readers, I am skipping my promised 7 month update and turning it into a 7 and 8 month update! Sorry!

It’s always so hard for me to know what to write! SO MUCH HAPPENS in a month, and almost none of it “normal!” So in order to try to convey my past 2 months, I leave you with some stories! They are in different fonts to help you separate them!

1.

I’m not going to lie. I was afraid of one of my primaries. I felt like I was constantly walking on egg-shells. Was she going to be nice to me? or was she going to tell me to F-off? Was she going to willingly go to her dentist appointment or was she going to yell at me in the waiting room? I just never knew! When she was happy…she was happy!!! When she wasn’t…watch out! I spent almost every day being worried about how “Susie” would respond to me on a daily basis. I knew that the way she responded to me was not because of me, but her past, etc. but it still was warring on my mind! We spent many nights trying to convince Susie not to run away from the DHP. We loved her. We wanted her there. After much discussion, she would normally return, apologize, cry, and we would hug and move on. The same thing may happen the next night, or the next night but it was just an endless cycle it seemed. The cycle seemed to get worse too. Susie was dealing with a lot of issues from her past and it was just taking a toll on her mind. She couldn’t get control. She was honest about feeling out of her mind crazy.

I got word on our winter camping trip that Susie had run away. For good. She packed a bag, asked for her money, and ran. She didn’t take her medications with her though. Big problem due to the amount and type of medications she was on. Everyone was worried about her and the side-effects she might experience from suddenly stopping such strong medications. We tried to get the police involved to help find her, but they couldn’t do anything about it. Six days after Susie left, we get a call from Susie asking to come back. She returns and is taken to a local mental hospital for evaluation where she is put on a 72 hour hold.

I had never visited a mental hospital. I hope I never have to visit again. It was just such a sterile, sad place. I could almost physically feel the pain of the kids on Susie’s hall. Visiting Susie was great though, probably the best time we ever had together. She was honest. She was calm. She was vulnerable. She was apologetic. She was hopeful.

Unfortunately,  we had run out of options for her at the DHP and other placements were being looked at for her to go to once she was discharged. When Susie learned of this, she was devastated. She cried and cried every time I visited her. She wrote letters of apology, asking to come back. “The Dale House is my home. I’ve never had a family and the Dale House is my family. A family isn’t blood, a family is a place where you feel loved and accepted and welcomed. I’ve never been able to sleep at night for fear of being hurt in my sleep. This is the first time I can do that.” Just honest, gut-wrenching truths from Susie.

After a lot of discussion, it was decided that the Dale House is the best place for Susie. We can offer her that love she never has had. We have Jesus on our side and have him to fill us up when she is warring us down. We can offer her a safe place to sleep without fear of harm. We can forgive her. We can push her and challenge her to work through her past and love herself. We can hug her when she feels out of control. We can do all those things only because Christ is our strength. Trust me. Without Him, I would have quit a long time ago!

Susie is back and doing well. She hasn’t yelled at anyone since she has been back. She wakes herself up in the mornings (not once did she do this since October!!). She is such a joy. She is an encouragement to me and a reminder of the prodigal son.

2.

At the end of January, I took on a third primary, “Sarah".” I was soooo excited! Sarah is awesome. She is so polite and works hard and just a true example of resilience. Well about 3 weeks ago, we started to notice that Sarah was struggling. She wasn’t acting like herself and something was just off-kilter.

Last Friday, I got a call from Stephanie Pitt saying that Sarah had left the house (my primaries always seemed to be running away!) but asked for some time to clear her head. Steph granted that but told her to be back by 9:30pm. At 10:00 I received a phone call from Sarah. “Can you come pick me up?” “I’m at the Wendy’s on such and such roads.” Sure, I said. and left right away (the such and such roads are a 20 minute drive from the DHP! How she got there is still a mystery!). Upon arrival, Sarah was no where to be found. I waited around a while, but then decided to drive back home.

I arrived back at the DHP at 11:00 and walked over to girl’s residence since it was time for bed. I opened the door and found Sarah on the floor crying and Stephanie on the phone with 911. Turns out she had gotten in the car with a stranger who offered her a ride home on the cold night. He had taken advantage of her. The police came, the EMT came, and Sarah and I headed to the ER for the night.

It was a crazy experience to be there with her. Just to be a part of the terribleness that is sexual assault. I never, in a million years, thought I would have to sit at the hospital with someone because of that. As we sat there, the police asked if anyone else should be notified. I said no. He looked at me strangely and said “not a mother…?” and I said “no. She has no mother.” It really did break my heart that I, a person who has known Sarah for 3 months was the one to be there with her. I was glad I could be there, but dang. No mother…no family...no one to notify except a client manager.

“Do justly, love mercy, walk humbly with your God.”

3.

I love to volunteer to go pick up a kid from work. Not only does this mean a small break from the chaos of the house, it also means a chance to be alone and one-on-one with a kid. Those are the moments I really love because I get the chance to see the kid be him or her self, not a circus clown showing off for the other residents.

This particular night, I volunteered to go get “Lauren.” Lauren is an awesome resident. She is 19 years old, grew up in a fairly normal adopted family, but was born to a drug mom. She now suffers from all sorts of mental health problems because of this.

When Lauren got in the car, I could tell she just wanted to talk. She immediately started the conversation by saying we would be proud of her for the decisions she made that day. I congratulated her and asked more about the situation. This conversation only led to her just opening her heart. I didn’t have to prod or poke. She just wanted to talk and have someone listen to her. We got back to the DHP in less than 10 minutes, but we sat in the car for the next hour and a half just talking. She talked about her frustrations with being in the system, she talked about frustrations of her friends making bad decisions. She talked about her family, her brother, her mom. She talked about her fear of emancipating in June. She talked about allllll sorts of things. and I got to listen. It was so cool. She really trusted me with her heart, with her struggles, with her thoughts.

We finally got out of the car because it was time for last smoke. Later that night, Lauren came to lie on the bed with Stephanie and I (where we sleep when we “sleep down”). She just said she was in a bad mood and knew we could cheer her up.

That may not sound like much, but to me, it shows she knows she is loved and cared for by us. That’s one of the best things I could ask for!

4.

Last night, I received a text message from my primary “Tom.” Tom is also very awesome. He is the hardest working resident in the house. He wakes himself up every day to go shovel horse poop. Not once did he complain when the weather was –13 and he as still working outside. Nope. He knows what he has to do to “make it.” He is determined to stay off drugs and not end up like the rest of his family.

Anyways, Tom and I had planned to go get some dinner since it was going to be one of the last nights we could do so before he emancipates. The text message I received said “I’m not going.” I was super confused. We had talked only 30 minutes before and plans were set. I texted him back and he replied with “You’re just like I thought you were. You say your my friend, but you’re just staff.”

dagger.

I was so shocked by that! Tom and I have a great relationship, so I was just so confused. I went up to Tom’s apartment to try to talk to him about what was going on and I was met with anger and yelling. He just wanted me out. I couldn’t fix the problem, so I did what he asked, and left.

I told my team leader about what had happened. He was also blown away by Tom’s words because he is aware of the type of relationship Tom and I have. He decided he wanted to try to talk to him before he was allowed to sign out to go anywhere.

After their talk, I got a message. “I’m sorry Abby. Can we still go?”

Of course.

As soon as we got into the car, there was that awkward silence. Who is going to say something? I was racking my brain and nothing was coming to my mouth!! Thankfully Tom spoke.

“I’ve just always gotten the sh** end f the stick. All my life I’ve be f-ed over. So I’ve learned that when people get close to me, instead of getting the sh** end of the stick from them, I wanna give them the sh** end of the stick first.”

He proceeded to tell me, (through choking back tears!! It was so preciously sad! I’ve only seen him tear up like that once before! Pretty amazing because he’s a 6’5’’ dude who’s been to jail) that I have been the closest thing to mom that he has had. The people who were supposed to be his mom (bio and adopted) don’t love him. He is scared to be alone and out of the system he said. He said he doesn’t have anyone to fall back on if he messes up.

It took all I had to not just break out in a full-blown cry. Tom doesn’t deserve what he had been through. He doesn’t deserve to say that jail is his fall-back because at least he will have a warm bed and food.

It stinks that I can’t be his mom. I’ve known him for 8 months. He’s 19. I’m 23. I’m moving away. He’s staying here.

It stinks even worse that he thinks I’m the closest mom he has had.

I got to pray with Tom that night. I couldn’t hold back the tears then. I prayed for him to know that he can fall-back on Jesus. I prayed for him to not give up hope. I prayed for him to know he is loved and special. I prayer for him to know the truth.

 

I am just continuously grateful for my experience here at the Dale House. I’m not going to lie, it is hard a lot. A lot of times I dread going to work just because of the unknown. What is today going to look like? Will it be good quality time with the residents or am I going to argue with them? Am I going to get cussed out today? (surprisingly, this is starting to bother me less and less! I don’t know if that is a good thing!) Is something just crazy going to happen? Why can’t the residents just understand we love them and why can’t they make the good decision?

Those are just some of the thoughts that run through my head.

But then there are the thoughts about injustice and how, honestly, I don’t think I could have survived past the age of 10 if I grew up like these kids. It is one of the most angering things to me to think about all the crap each one of these kids has been through, especially when they were just little babies, unable to talk, walk, do anything for themselves. There are those conversations with residents that reveal their hearts, reveal their desire to just be kids. There are those times of laughter. There are those times of love.

I know the next 2 and a half months are going to FLY by! Thank you all for your continued support and love!

I leave you with one more picture since there were so many words on this post!

GO HEELS!