I know. She has a blog? Yes. I haven't written in 6 months. (which is pretty much the start of the last five blog posts,) So… Yes. I barely have a blog. But there's something I need to share and this is the avenue in which I can share it:
Matt and I are in the very painstaking,
patience-trying, heart aching, soul growing process of adding to our family
through adoption. If this comes as a
surprise to you, please know we have not made this decision lightly. Either
way, I would love to share with you what God has done to our hearts over the
past 5 months. Yes! It’s already been
five months since we made the initial decision.
And no one has given me even ONE baby yet!! ( See what I mean about
patience?! Haha!! We know this will be
a long process)- OK scratch that- this fact is no longer true as of four days
ago, but the patience part is even more true, so do read on.
Firstly, let me tell you how this came to be. Matt and I actually discussed adopting very
early in our marriage. It was one of
those idealistic goals that seemed so far away.
I remember sitting in Tom Day’s Introduction to Early Childhood class at
Weber State University and feeling this ache in my heart as I heard him tell
about his experiences as a foster parent.
I went home and told Matt all about it.
He said that we could definitely adopt one day but that he didn’t think
I could handle fostering. “You just love
too much, Laura. You’d never be able to
give them back.” If you know me, this
probably makes sense. I am a little “too
much” of everything that I am. If I am
something, I am TOO MUCH of it. I am TOO
passionate, TOO opinionated, TOO
animated, TOO direct, TOO bossy, TOO outspoken, TOO sassy, TOO competitive, TOO
argumentative, TOO loving, TOO touchy, TOO sensitive…. (These are all things
people have actually said to me) You get
the idea. I’m kind of an intense
person. I actually agreed with Matt and
took the comment as somewhat of a compliment.
Being forced to give a child back to their bumbling birth parent would
rip my heart out and I would never recover.
So it seemed that foster care was out of the question for us. But
adoption was somewhere out there in a land with graduate degrees and moving
back to Texas and traveling the world, having my black, white and red kitchen…
you get the idea. Some day we would
adopt. Well, fast forward 10 years or so
and Matt and I have been blessed with 3 gorgeous children through birth and we
are done. I’m done with childbearing
done with having babies…. Done.
When Victoria was 4 we actually did
some research on international adoption and found the cost to be so outrageous
and the waiting periods to be so long that adoption fell off the radar as
something just too impractical and out of reach. We were so happy and complete with our three
fabulous kiddos.
You may know that Matt and I celebrated our 15th
anniversary in July of 2015. He (like he
always keeps doing) fulfilled a promise made when we were engaged: to take me to
the Laie, Hawaii Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter DaySaints. We spent 9 glorious days in
paradise and loved every minute.
We then
traveled to Texas for our annual trip to visit my family. We had such a great time playing with cousins and finally got to meet my sister's precious baby, Bethany. Bethany, incidentally, was a huge fan of Matt!
During this time, there was a great deal in
the news about abortion. You may
remember the undercover videos done revealing the abhorrent practices of selling
the organs of aborted babies. This is
post is not intended to hash into the validity of these practices or the validity of the videos, but if you
need more information on the issue, you can find it here, here, here or here.
If you know me very well at all, you know that I am
passionately pro-life. I am not a crazy,
show pictures of dead babies and kill abortionists kind of pro-life person (as
the media would suggest we all are), but a person whose soul aches at the
thought of snuffing out the lives of the most defenseless among us. This national story kept my heart raw and
aching for days, praying for the unborn, praying for our legislators to make a
change, praying that something would change.
Every time I prayed, I would hear the words of Mother Teresa,
And I thought… “What God?!! What can I
do? I cannot change the laws of this
country!! I cannot save those babies.”
Although I am an eternal optimist and wrote my
congressmen and prayed that God would allow this Planned Parenthood scandal to
effect change in our country, I was fairly certain that the godless, worldly
agenda would hide these sins again.
Sadly, I was sure that even if both houses of congress passed a law to
protect the unborn, this President would veto it. (And that’s pretty much what
happened, just read about it HERE.) So what could I do?
As we drove home from Texas in August, I read this
post by Ann Voskamp, a beautiful writer and follower of Jesus who has touched
my heart many times in the past. On this
occasion, I read her words and they pierced my soul. Now please take note, I do not agree with every solution that Ms. Voskamp puts forth here. But... she speaks with the conviction of the Holy Spirit in this piece and her words spoke to me.
Alright, God.
I get it. If I am going to sit at home in my righteous indignation and tell these women in crisis to choose life, then I must, MUST offer some sort of support to them. I will DO
something. What? As I sat there, driving the super fun 22 hour
trip back to Utah. (You’re really jealous, right? ) I thought, maybe I am
supposed to volunteer at a crisis pregnancy center. Maybe I am supposed to help
counsel women who are in the midst of a crisis pregnancy. When could I fit that into my schedule? Is there a crisis pregnancy center near me? That very night, I knelt by my bed and asked God
again, “What can I do? How can I help
these women? How can I help these babies?"
And I felt these words fill my mind with such a
surety that I knew it was the Holy Spirit, “You cannot save all of the
babies. But you can save one.” And there
it was.
The word
ADOPTION…
imprinted on
my heart. It wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t leave. I prayed the next night… same answer. I held this feeling in my heart without
saying one word to Matt. This is a
spectacular feat in and of itself.
Keeping my thoughts to myself is not really one of my, how shall we say, strengths? Remember the whole, “Too Opinionated?” component of my personality? The thing is, Matt
and I hadn’t discussed adoption in YEARS.
We had spent the last several months mentioning all the awesome and fun
things we can do now that our kids are older and we don’t have babies. We have been talking about how awesome it is
that we had our kids young and will have an empty nest while we are still young
enough to go see Rome and Greece like we have always wanted. Matt had recently been sharing with me his
financial plan to retire early (not NOW, early, but earlier than we had originally thought). We talked about being able to serve a mission for our church at a relatively young age. I was
nervous to even mention this to him. I wasn't nervous because I thought he would be angry or upset, but nervous because this notion had become so woven into my soul that I was afraid to hear a no from Matt. I didn't want to urge or persuade or push him into something. I wanted us to be united and I didn't know how to say... "Hey, Can I get another kid?"
But when I found that this
prompting was not going away, I realized I would have to talk to Matt about
it. I couldn’t very well adopt a baby
without telling him, right?
…Right?!
So, on the morning of August 28th, My big
kids were in school, Matt had the day off and I had not yet started preschool. I took the kids to school and climbed back
into bed with Matt nuzzling into our favorite spooning sleeping position. I was going to tell him. The Spirit was speaking strongly to me and my
heart was beating wildly in my chest.
I had to ask him.
“Matt?”, I said, grateful that I didn’t have to look him in the eye, “I
think we are supposed to adopt someone.”
The words just popped right out.
Then Matt said, in a calm, strong, bright tone,
“Me too!”
“ Me too!”
As if I had suggested that we go to a movie that afternoon or that I love
spending the morning together or that I thought we had the best life of anyone
I knew. “Me too!”
My eyes filled with tears and I turned to face him,
“Really!? Are you serious?”
“Yes, he said. I kept thinking about it the whole
time we were in Hawaii. It just wouldn’t leave me alone. I felt we are so blessed and it’s time. But I knew it would mean so much more work
for you and so I didn’t want to push you into anything.”
Friends, I know that this might seem like a
coincidence to some of you, but I tell you right now that this is no
coincidence. This is how God works
sometimes. I know, with all of my soul
that the Holy Spirit prompted each of us separately and that God was reaching
to us and guiding our hearts.
We knew that, due to the Indian Child Welfare Act,
there is a special need for foster and adoptive parents to Native American
Children. If you are unfamiliar with
ICWA, here is a very brief and blunt overview: Until about 1978, there existed
an organization called the National Adoption Federation. This organization was removing Native
American children from their homes and placing them in white homes because,
well, you know… white folks surely know how to raise children better. Racist much?
I know! Horrific, right? And the federal government (like it always
keeps doing) stepped in to solve the problem.
They passed ICWA, which requires BY LAW that Native American foster
children be placed in homes with Native American Families. (It’s a bit more complicated than that, but
if you want to know more, you can read about it HERE or HERE.) Of course, in trying to
solve the problem, the federal government created a whole new problem (LIKE IT
ALWAYS KEEPS DOING). There are often
far more Native American foster children than there are Native American
families who are willing to foster and/adopt.
What does any of this have to do with Matt and
me?
Well, Matt is Native American.
(Pause for comment of disbelief and expression of doubt on the part of
listener.) True Story. Matt is ¼ Catawba
Indian and is actually a registered and enrolled member of the Catawba Indian Nation. I know: Our kids all have blonde hair. I know: Matt doesn’t really look Native American at. All. But, his dad is ½ Catawba and his grandmother
was full blooded Catawba Indian.
Knowing this need existed and that we might have a special ability to
help children in this predicament, we decided to look into adopting through Matt’s
tribe. It took me a few days to get up
the nerve to call his tribe. After
reading about the National Adoption Federation, I felt like an evil white woman
calling up the tribe and saying, “Hey! Do you have any babies I can have?!”
I left a few messages with the director of Social
Services for the tribe. When she finally
called me back, it was one of the best things to ever happen. Partially because we were really excited about
starting this process and partially because HER ACCENT, y’all. It was this loooong Southern drawl that was
unlike anything I had heard in real life.
I mean, I grew up in Texas and am vastly familiar with the Texas Twang
that adorns the speech of so many of my people. Texans draw the words out and
even add syllables, but it’s more of a WIDE sound. This was a long, drawn out drawl that can
only be described as magnificent.
Seriously. I keep her voice mail on my phone and listen to it when I am
feeling sad. It perks me right up. Anyway, back to adoption.
Linda was thrilled to hear from us and said that it
was so good to hear my voice and that we were a blessing out of the
heavens. She called back a few days
later to verify that we were really members of the tribe and I told her that
Matt’s great grandfather was the chief, so …. We’re kind of a big deal. I didn’t really say that, but she got the
picture. She then told me that she had
three siblings in custody and wanted to know if we would take them??
“Ummmm…. No? I mean we talked about maybe taking two
children, but they would have to be pretty young and gee, I just don’t think we
can take three. I mean we already have 3
kids right now.”
Linda said,
“Listen, Y’all just go ahead and
get licensed through your state and that home study will transfer here so that
you can adopt from the tribe. You just get licensed and I will find you a Catawba child."
(I should make a note that these three children were quite a bit older than what Matt and I have agreed on taking. For various reasons, we are only considering children who are younger than Victoria.)
And so, like the TOO MUCH kinda girl I am, we jumped
in with both feet. We called and met
with a representative from Utah Foster Care and found out about the rather rigorous process
involved in becoming certified to adopt through foster care. We both needed to
complete 32 hours of trainings, CPR/First Aid certifications, fingerprinting,
background checks, financial disclosures, interview, home study, etc… We were
both so excited and then she handed us the training schedule. The trainings were all on Tuesday and
Thursday evenings from 5:30-9:30 pm. As
the Young Men’s President in our ward, Matt has activities with them on both of
those nights each week. The trainings
were only held locally every other month.
The other months were held in Logan and other locations. How would we do it? After praying and sitting with it a few days,
we decided to ask the Bishop for a little help with Matt’s calling for the
month of October. And of course, our Bishop was incredibly supportive (like he
always keeps doing!). Matt’s selfless
parents gave up their Tuesday and Thursday evenings to shuttle our kids to and
from soccer, piano and tumbling. They
helped with homework and got them ready for bed. I cannot imagine what we’d do without
them.
Every class was both energizing and exhausting. We would come anxious to learn and would
leave both disheartened by humanity and inspired by the Holy Spirit. I said to my (incredibly supportive and
prayerful) mother, “It’s like God opened our eyes to these children. I cannot stop looking. Even though it hurts to look, I cannot look
away.” Over the course of the month, God
grew in my heart a love for foster care.
(Kind of easy when you are talking about it rather than actually doing
it- I pray that my conviction will remain strong when I actually have a child
in my care.) But even this was really a
tremendous blessing. I read the
scriptures with new fervor, suddenly seeing the verses about caring for the
fatherless jump off the page and hit me in the face. I experienced a great moment of clarity when I read this blog post:
I read much of Mother Teresa’s words on
caring for orphans and realized with a jolt of shock and compassion and guilt
that THEIR needs supersede mine. I
realized that I am willing to put my heart and soul on the line to help even
just one of these precious children.
After each class, we talked and checked in on how
the other was feeling. We talked to our
kids about what we were learning.
“Are you sure you still want to do this?”
“Yes. Now more
than ever.”
And so, apparently we set some sort of record for
getting licensed the fastest.
(At least we were the fastest for this particular licensor.) 28 days and one million details later and we
were in business.
And we waited.
And waited.
I emailed Linda to tell her that we were officially
licensed, which she said was outstanding news.
But we had found out a bit of discouraging news: Because we are out of state, we can’t foster
any children from his tribe, we can only adopt a child who is already legally
available. This is a whole other bag of
worms that decreases our chances even more.
And so we
wait.
And wait.
On Thursday, at about 5:40
pm, we got a call from DCFS. They needed
a home for two little girls ages 3 and 8 months if at all possible for THAT
night. Ummmm… Whoa. Stuff just got real.
Matt happened to be working from home, so we
sat together with our Resource Family Consultant on speaker phone and listened
to the specifics of the case.
Unfortunately, I had to take Daphne to her dress rehearsal for her piano
recital at 6 and Matt had to coach a basketball game at 7:30. We got off the phone, looked at each other like
deer caught in headlights and I ran out the door with Daphne to take her to
piano. (She’s in a parent child piano
program) I sat through the most
essential parts of her rehearsal and sneaked out in the hall to call my dear
friend, Mary. Mary has fostered several
children and recently adopted her youngest two children through foster
care. She's one of the most calm and patient people I know. Actually, picture my personality, with the crazy and the loud and the dramatic and the attention seeking and Mary is the complete opposite. She's like a walking basket of the fruits of the Spirit, that Mary.
I told her as much as I could
about the situation and asked for help deciding. My stomach was churning. I was shaking and completely unsure what to
do. We said we would take two children
because we have learned of the heart break and developmental damage done by
separating sibling groups. We felt two
was the most we could reasonably take on at one time seeing as how we already
have 3 kids and all. NO BIG DEAL. Right?
Then someone calls and says there are 2 ACTUAL children on the other end
of the phone with no family and my heart breaks wide open. My heart says “Yes! Of course.” And my head
says, “How are you going to do car pool?
You can’t fit all those kids in your car. Who’s going to watch them
while you teach in the mornings? You
have a crib, but no crib mattress. You
have NOTHING for a baby. How can you do
this? That would mean you have FIVE
children!! Who knows when you’ll sleep again? Is the 3 year old developmentally 3 or is she
delayed? She’s probably not potty
trained.” Oh my. The judge assigned to
this case is really lenient on birth parents.
It sounds like there’s a good chance an aunt or uncle or grandparent could come forward
in a few days or month and take them. It
also sounds (to me) like the mom will get them back eventually.
Do we do this
knowing there’s little chance it would end in adoption? Can my kids handle that? But they are 3 and 8 months. I LOVE those ages. There are real live children sitting in a shelter
waiting for SOMEONE to pick them up.
I
got back home at 7:10 and helped Matt warm up some dinner for the kids and we
talked for about 5 minutes, said a very quick prayer and he was out the door. Before he left, he said, “Your vote is worth
ten of mine, so I support whatever you decide.”
There was a part of me that wanted to say, “Make a decision for me!!!”
But another part of me that loved him because he would never want me to feel pressured by
him or like he made me do something when, who are we kidding? We both know I’m
the one who will do most of the work.
And so there I was, laying on the floor of our
bedroom, praying and crying and fighting a battle between my head and my heart.
My stomach was in knots, and quite frankly, my head was winning. Was it responsible to agree to this and not
have a childcare plan in place?
My first choice would be to have Matt’s sister,
Raegan come to my house and watch the baby (and maybe the 3 year old) while I
teach in the mornings. (My sister in law Natalie is already my teaching assistant.) But is it fair to
take these children without seeing if Raegan is even willing to do that? I have
a few other options, but what if none of them works out? I called Raegan. I must have sounded like a crazy person. I could feel the stress in my voice. I tried to ask her without pressuring her and
make sure she knew that she didn’t have to commit right that minute. I just needed to know if it was a
possibility. I told her that her response didn’t mean that I would say no, I
just needed more information to make a decision. It is the UKNOWN that makes it impossible to
decide. Raegan said to me, “Laura, I
know this will be so hard but you can do
this. I know that God loves you and
that He has given you special gifts. He
has given you spiritual gifts that will help you to do this and He expects you to use them.”
Message Received.
Sometimes God sends you answers through your people. Raegan is one of my
people. I remembered now. We already
made this decision. This is a commitment to God. We already told him we would do this. We already said to Him that we would care for
the most helpless among us. After every
training class, no matter how scary, we looked at each other and said, “Are we
still on board? Do we still want to do this?” And the answer was yes every
time. We already said yes, months ago.
So I texted Matt and said, “I think we say
yes. We can’t say no.”
20 minutes later, Matt walks in the door and I said,
“I think we have to say yes. We can’t
say no. I just feel, in my gut, like
they are going to go back to their family.”
And Matthew (my Love) said,
“But they still need help in the meantime. And we can do that. We can help
them.” We sat down with our kids and
explained the situation and that it could be days or weeks or months or
forever. We don’t know. They all offered a resounding YES.
And so we texted our RFC and told him yes. Matt and Isaac started pulling the crib out of
the closet and putting it together. Our
friend Mary brought over their extra crib mattress. The girls ran upstairs and
started getting the extra bed ready. I
scrambled around cleaning, thinking we’d have to stop and get bottles and
diapers and a crib sheet…
But of course, our RFC was out of touch at the time
and didn’t get the message for a while. By the time everyone had communicated,
the girls had already been put to bed at the shelter. Guilt envelops me. Well, there is nothing else we can do now. I was to pick them up the next day at 12:30.
Now… for a peaceful night’s rest. Right? Ha!!
I cleaned up as much as I could, spent a long time
deciding if I should go and buy an infant car seat and a crib sheet
tonight?? Ultimately, I decided to wait.
I know some children come into foster care with only the clothes on their
backs, but from what I heard of this case, I would be surprised if that was the
case. I got a text around midnight
telling me I would need to bring my own car seat. Suddenly, I felt irresponsible for not having
all the baby equipment on hand. It had
seemed silly to buy all kinds of baby items when we didn’t even know if we
would be getting a baby or a 4 year old… But now I felt like an irresponsible
foster parent.
I lay in bed making a
mental list of all the baby items I would need to purchase sometime
tomorrow. Running through neighbors who
might have an extra infant car seat I could borrow just to pick up the
girls. Around 1 am, I finally fell
asleep. I woke again at 4, and my brain churned through all the ways my
life would change with a baby and a 3 year old:
Carpool, Carpool.
Maybe my friend Lori or Susan could help?
I said I would be the parent mentor for Isaac’s
group at school. How can I do that now?
Why did I buy those dang season passes to Cherry Hill? How am I going to survive the summer at a
water park with a baby and a three year old?
And so on and so forth until I finally force myself
out of bed to get ready for the day. Who
needs sleep the night before getting a baby in your house? Not me, apparently.
I tearfully put on my makeup while listening to
Elder Holland’s epic talk, “Are We Not All Beggars?” and trying to avoid
vomiting. I seriously cannot remember
the last time I was that nervous. Our
lives were about to MASSIVELY change. Would
the girls be scared and screaming? Would
they be afraid to leave the shelter?
Thankfully, my beautiful friend Renee calls and offers a
loaner car seat so that I can avoid a trip to Walmart on the way to the
shelter.
Just after preschool ended, I got a call from the
caseworker asking me to bring the girls by for separate visits with their
parents that afternoon. “Well, I’ll only
have had them for a few hours at that point, so it seems a little awkward, but
I can bring them in if that is what I need to do.”
I left my house and headed for the shelter. I was praying the whole time and had my
faithful prayer warriors praying for a smooth transition for all of us. I walked in and was so nervous. I heard them coming down the hallway with the
ladies at the shelter. I could hear the
3 year old’s tiny voice asking, “Where are we going?”
“You get to go have a sleep over with my friend!”
“Yay!!!” the
little girl trilled.
Oh, Thank you Lord Jesus! They seem happy.
I knelt down to meet her. She had the most beautiful grey eyes.
“I’m Miss Laura!
We get to go play at my house now.
My daughters are so excited to meet you and play with you!”
Her eyes lit up and she nodded.
“ Do you like Elsa?”
Another excited nod.
“I have Elsa and Ana dolls at my house.” She jumps up and down in excitement. I am
taken aback at how beautiful they both are.
Dark hair, blue grey eyes. Such
precious little girls.
We all walked out to my van together. The ladies from the shelter helped buckle
them in and then said goodbye. And it
was just us. We drove back to my house
and the girls were both happy and calm and peaceful.
I bring them inside and watch Isaac, Daphne and Victoria greet them with joy.
For the first time in 20 hours, I feel calm.
I’m thinking, “ I can do this. I
can do this. God’s got my back. Eight months is such a fun age. And three? I can do three year olds
blindfolded. I can do this.” I look at the chubby baby on my hip and
realize that my hip had felt a little
empty. My girls are ecstatic. They take turns holding the baby and showing
the 3 year old around while I try to unpack their things and get some laundry
started for them. The shelter actually
sent them with enough new items to get through the first few days as well as
some brand new toys. A friend gave me some old crib bedding that she was taking
to the DI. I get everything in the washing machine so that they’ll have clean
pajamas for tonight and wonder when the baby will be hungry. I have no idea when the last time she ate or
slept or was changed… They are both so
happy and I can’t believe I even considered saying no. How could I have even thought it!? I wash the bottles out and change the baby’s
diaper. She joyfully inch worms away and
a giggly Victoria has to hold her down so I can change her. Those thighs, though. They were so chubby and precious and sweet. I
look at her face and think, “Yes… Giving you back is going to break my heart.” I get the crib bedding on the crib and think
that the baby must be getting sleepy. I
start to prepare a bottle just in case and then look at the clock. Time to pack up to take them to their
visit. Already?! I get my crew to help
get everyone ready. “See, Laura? You have big kids to help now. It will be so much different than when you
had babies. You can do this. Everything is going to work out.” We drop Isaac off at basketball practice and
head to the DCFS office. We pull in the parking spot and I tell the little 3
year old, “We are going to go visit Mommy and then I will come pick you up and
you can sleep over at my house.”
“Yay!” she
says. (Oh, how I wish we could all trust
like a little child. To openly and
unabashedly trust God with the future like they trust us?)
I meet the caseworker for the first time and she
escorts them back to visit with their parents.
She asks me to wait for a minute and then takes me back into a little
conference room. Then she says,
“I know you said you were going to go do a bunch of
shopping for the girls right now, so we wanted to let you know that a family member has come forward and is going to take the girls. She’ll pick them up after the visit.”
“Oh.” I say, stunned, “You mean I won’t have them
again at all?”
“Right.” She says. “I’m sorry about that. The grandmother originally said that she
couldn’t take them, but changed her mind.”
I walk out of the office… trying to catch my
breath. It’s all over, in just a matter
of hours. I wonder how I’ll tell the girls, suddenly grateful they hadn’t come
into the room with me. We get in the car
and I have to tell them. I will never
forget the huge crocodile tears pouring down Victoria’s precious face. Daphne looks defeated. In just a few short hours they had gone from
elation to heart break. I try to hold in
my own tears and hold them both for a few minutes.
Who does this to their own children? Who willingly inflicts this kind of
heartache?
I went back home, put their stuff in the dryer. I took Isaac to his camp out and gave him the
news. That’s when I cried. I hadn’t wanted the girls to see me cry
because they were already so upset. Honestly, I hadn’t even been sure how I
felt until then. Sweet, strong Isaac
just hugged me and said, “I’m so sorry that happened, Mom.”
I folded their clothes and packed up all their
things that were just unpacked and took them up to the DCFS office. It was essentially the most anticlimactic
experience of our lives. I ran the gamut of emotions all in one short 24 hour
period.
Matt never even saw them.
And that was our first experience with foster
care.
Would we do it again? Yes.
Was it worth it? Yes.
We are committed to this process. I don’t know what
will happen. I do not know what God has
planned. I do not know if, a year from now, my heart will be too broken to try again. But I know that we can be Jesus
to some children who are alone and need a family in the meantime. I know that we can be His
hands to some who are fatherless and afflicted.
I choose to trust our future to God as that precious little girl trusted
me for one short afternoon. Why? Because each child is worth loving. Every baby in the womb, every child in foster
care, every child in an affluent family, every child in a poor family. Every child of every background, of every color
is worth loving. The worth of souls is great in the sight of God. So great, that, as my friend Debbi pointed
out in her sermon at church this week, that each soul is worth the blood of the Son of
God. If He gave His only begotten Son
for each of us,so then can we give all the love and time and attention we can
to help these precious children, for whatever time is allotted us.
