The Invisible Bonds

Well, Josie, here is the story a verse in your post reminded me of. It's a bit old, but it's close to my heart because it is true.

The hidden floor boards creak as I plod down the carpeted hallway. Grimy hand prints are smeared across the wall, consequences of the continual traffic of seven kids through the halls. The walls are soft and dented, that old compressed sawdust stuff they used in houses a century ago. Paint chips off the trim here and there, revealing hints of beautiful wood work. My house is old, but not abandoned. It may be falling apart and patched in places, but well-loved. It has a story whispering for attention amid the the rattling of the windows, the groaning of the floor boards, and the shouts of the adolescents. The story has nothing to do with the gurney carts and embalming fluids once stored in the basement. Neither does it speak of the pews that once crowded the game room or the wealthy family that once lived here ages ago. This story is of laughter, tears, and triumph. It is of a strong, invisible bond fastened by the invisible God. Since the house has no lips to speak the story that grew within its walls, I gladly embrace the opportunity to speak for my beloved home.

When I was barely a year old, my family moved into the “big, white house,” as it has often been referred to. At the time, a good portion of the place served as a Church building. My Dad was to be the next preacher there, thus he was given the opportunity to live in the other portion of the house which served as a parsonage. The kitchen was green, one bathroom was pink, the carpet was beautiful shades of green and orange...Obviously the place needed some serious help; but it doesn't take updated carpet or stylish décor to create a beautiful home. All it takes is a little bit of love, and trust me, I received an overabundance! I had loving parents, a loving brother, and a loving Church family. Fast forward one year later and then came along brother number two. Skip another couple years, and I had a total of 3 brothers who were my 3 best friends...Well, most of the time. Mom home-schooled every one of us, and both my parents seized the opportunity to teach us God's Word and to pray. Little did they realize what a dangerous thing they were doing. Although they by no means regret the action, I wonder if they would have had any second thoughts if the results had been revealed to them beforehand.

Every night before bed, I lifted up my prayer. It went something like this, “Dear God, please give me a little sister.” It would seem that my prayer evaporated into empty air and that my secret would never go beyond the listening ears of my parents and the drafty walls; yet, somehow my prayer seeped through through the window and drifted upward toward the ever listening ears of our Heavenly Father. My prayer wasn't alone either. Amid the flood of prayers ever drifting toward heaven, He took three very different prayers and joined them in a common plan.

As my mom was driving down the road one day, listening to gospel music, she began to pour her heart out to God, expressing her desire to do more for Him. It was in that moment, that a vivid vision of a crying girl, entered her mind. Although the image of a blond-haired, blue-eyed little girl was not the clearest of answers, it was all my parents needed.  They began to look into possibly doing foster care. Before long they were taking foster care classes and hoping to adopt a little girl.

My brothers and I were super excited. I was going to have a little sister! At the time we were blind to all the hardships that could occur. We just knew we were going to be giving a home to someone who desperately needed it, and the warnings didn't do much to hinder our excitement.

As my parents learned more about foster care, the plan for one little girl didn't last long. We all decided we could handle taking in a sibling group. That's why in May of 2006, we received a call for a sibling group of three: two boys and a little girl. The number of kids in our house almost doubled. Eugene was 7, Thomas was 5, and little Dawn was 3. Her hair was blond, and her eyes were sky blue; and she was ours, along with the two of the cutest boys in the world.


I would be lying if I said everything was hunky-dorey and we lived happily ever after. At 12 and 10, Michael and I were still the eldest siblings, but Eugene was also used to being an eldest child. We had many clashes of the wills and still do at times. On top of it, his personality was the extreme opposite of anyone in our family. His fearless, outgoing, athletic personality caused our heads to spin. It didn't take us long to figure out why he had so many bruises up and down his shins. Everywhere he went it was, “Thumpity-thump! Crash! Bang!” We have since then concluded he has numerous guardian angels that work overtime.

Thomas was so cute and quiet everyone else thought he was an angel. They were so wrong. He was the orneriest bundle of cuteness to ever walk the face of the earth. If there was anything that could be said or done to push your buttons, he'd do it. For some reason, he also seemed to think he could fly. At least one of Eugene's guardian angels was always around.

Dawn was also cute and sweet, but she still had her struggles. At times she would wake up in the middle of the night, crying and croaking out “Jesus Loves Me.” Having been in foster care most her life, she didn't know what it was like to have a permanent family, yet she seemed to know that the big white house was to be her permanent home. One day she took Mom's face in her little hands and asked, “Mommy, will you pray to Jesus that I can stay here porever and ever?” And another time, “I looked for you and looked for you but I couldn't find you.” God had instilled in her heart that this was where she belonged, and we believed it too.

Many hardships we all faced during the next couple of years and continuing. It passed in a blur and I barely remember it. If anything is hard, it's extending those invisible bonds of love to those you know will not always return it. They may fight those bonds, in fear that if they love you back, someone will tear them away as before. God's grace was abundant during that time. He was our strength when our weary souls wanted to give up.

One unexpected encouragement was revealed to us through the form of the three siblings' great-grandmother. To our amazement, we discovered the third prayer that had been a part of God's plan. On one normal day of one average week, we received an unexpected card from “Grandma Bob.” Soon we discovered that she had been praying that her great-grandkids would find a good, Christian home. It wasn't long before we got to meet this wonderful lady, who showered us with gifts and love, as if we all were her great-grandchildren. As I write, I can see two gifts she gave to Amber and I. Both are little glass angels, sitting on our shelves, reminding us of her love and God's love. Though she has passed on now, our memory of her will never fully fade.

As my 10 turned to 15, and 15 to 17, I grew and stretched, both physically and spiritually. The whole family is not who they were, and the big white house has witnessed it all. With the Church moved to another building, it too, has undergone some serious remodeling, giving us room to spread out a little bit and invite our grandparents to come join the crazy family. Dawn and I are especially close. When we were younger, we would playfully call each other “Sissy” or “Goofball.” We still love to play “dress up” and create all sorts of goofy costumes. My brothers and I tease each other back and forth and often play board or card games together. Dinner time is always the best time of the day. Together our family laughs and jokes. Often conversations will lead to something about God or reflections on the past. By no means is our life perfect, but we enjoy the invisible bond of love that now tightly wraps around us all.

It may seem crazy to some, but our hearts are returning to thoughts of foster care again. Dawn and I would very much like to have another sister. Again we have started this foster care adventure with thoughts of taking in one girl, but who knows what God will bring our way? As I will be joining Michael at college in about another year, I only pray that it happens soon. The big white house still creaks and groans with our every move, but it still has empty spaces to be filled. Why not share them with someone in need of love?

Update:

I am pleased to announce that my family is in the process of adopting two more new siblings! Little Girl and Baby Boy will be officially a part of our family in about a week and a half. Yes, I said two. You would think that after our previous experience we would have learned never to go into the adoption process saying we want one little girl...because little girls always come with a brother or two :) This is where Ephesians 3:20-21 comes in. I asked for a sister, and what do I get? Two sisters and three more brothers!