Wounded Lambs in the Shepherd’s Embrace

By Jennifer Z. Wright

Do you have long-term dreams laid before God just waiting for His attention? He has not forgotten them. Witness how He can work miracles through unexpected means in the worst of circumstances. When we are weak and confused but relying on Him, that is when His glory can shine the most and His power is revealed.
With my highly sensitive, perfectionistic personality I was a poor candidate for the tumultuous world of foster care, yet the Lord called me to such a task through my desperation to become a mother. I repeatedly observed injustice and suffering and wished I could have greater influence to set things right. Amid calloused, overworked staff, I had the opportunity to also be inspired by a number of heroes serving in the system who worked tirelessly to defend helpless children. At least I could make some difference in each little life that came to our doorstep empty-handed by offering comfort and a degree of normalcy. It broke my heart to let children go back to questionable situations after getting attached to their quirky and adorable ways. In addition, I was terrified of young boys who had raging tempers and threatened to take over our home and destroy our peace.
Then I had to face a meth-addicted registered sex offender who looked as though he wanted to kill me in court because I had his kids in my house. We were in the throes of an intense spiritual battle.
Many times I thought, "If only I could just get pregnant, leave the foster system and have a happy, simple life!"
However, I knew a big God who rules the heavens and the earth. I could call on Him for help and receive support from others in our church family to carry me through the losses and fears. God had a more profound journey than I could have ever planned for myself. I was in a position to see His hand move mountains in our life and in the lives of other foster families. May your faith be emboldened as a result of this story. The Lord works righteousness in answer to prayer and truly loves the least of these.
"I was a stranger and you invited me in." Matthew 25:35 NIV

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Z. Wright
• Release date: Jan 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310527630

Jennifer Z. Wright

Feel free to share your story or prayer request. You can contact me at [e-mail] or connect through facebook.com/jenzwright62. I care about you and keep you all in my prayers.Jennifer Z. Wright grew up near The University of Michigan where she studied art and became a Christian. She has a Bachelor of Religious Education and two years of graduate study in Biblical Literature. She served in singles and women's ministries and worked as a teacher and in childcare before marrying at thirty-nine.She became an avid hiker, ascending four mountains over 14,000 ft. in elevation with her husband (he did many more) when they moved to Colorado where she developed a love for nature photography. Jennifer also enjoys biking, teaching and playing with her lively children and testifying to women's groups about the goodness of her Savior. She currently lives in North Carolina.

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Introduction

I will contend with those who contend with you, and your children I will save. Isaiah 49:25

Experience a story of triumph in the midst of brokenness in America’s foster system. Witness how persistent prayer and the efforts of selfless advocates from all strata of society brought about deliverance for victimized children. Hear about lives restored and hope renewed through heavenly whispers when it seems like all is lost.

The constant battle in our nation for the hearts of families ravaged by substance abuse and domestic violence creates an ongoing need for trained volunteers and compassionate professionals to provide protection for neglected and abused children and support for parents on the road to recovery. Those serving families in crisis include Court Appointed Special Advocates, social workers, therapists, foster parents, caseworkers, life skills coaches, pastors, rehabilitation counselors, lawyers and judges. Just one person can make a profound difference.

I hope our story will inspire you to believe God for the strength to face head on whatever obstacles may come your way. Our Creator specializes in the miraculous and loves to guide and encourage us.. I have witnessed the power of the name of Jesus and how great his reward is as he grants desires of the heart.

Defend the cause of the weak and fatherless; maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed. Rescue the weak and needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked. Psalm 82:3-4

Chapter 1 - Parenthood’s Elusive Game

‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ Jeremiah 29:11

The battle lines were drawn across the desk in the stuffy office. I was a desperate forty-something childless woman contending with an impeccably attired caseworker who was glaring down her perfectly straight nose at me. She had just asked if we would accept a drug exposed baby, so I inquired as to how the agency would keep our contact information confidential should we find ourselves engaging with an addicted birthmother. I had volunteered at a rehabilitation facility in Detroit during the eighties and knew some of the risks involved.

We will not keep your information confidential because there is no reason to do so! she retorted with the hateful disdain of a queen ruling over loathsome subjects who were threatening to revolt. She seemed to revel in the fact that she wielded power to open or close doors for couples desiring to adopt. Much like many agencies in Michigan around 2006, open adoption was the caseworker’s only agenda. In her mind safety was not an issue. Was she about to destroy our file just because I tried to set some boundaries?

Maintaining a relationship between a birthmother and her baby after adoption is ideal… if everyone gets along well. Welcoming any stranger into the intimacy of family life is often a challenge unless they share similar beliefs. Even then there can be strong personality differences. Plus, I had no idea to what degree drug exposure affected a baby before it was born. I didn’t think I was up to the task of mothering a child with serious developmental delays or other unknown issues. A little information would have helped.

I cowered like a small dog that had been kicked. I glanced over to my husband with eyes pleading for help. True to his laid back nature, Patrick remained quietly seated with a bland expression. He didn’t want to cause any ripples so we could have smooth sailing. I would have to muster my faith and courage and lean ever harder on my heavenly Father. I believed he had good plans for us even though our road to parenthood looked uncertain.

I replied cautiously, For now we will only consider a baby who is drug free. We could always change our minds if it turned out that no birthmother chose us. As an older couple we had to present ourselves as exceptionally agreeable, stellar candidates in order to capture their hearts. With a blank expression she made a note of our preference and proceeded with the interview.

Earlier that afternoon when we entered the agency, we had passed one large portrait after another adorning the walls. I became all the more determined to win the ultimate prize as I gazed at the beaming adopted toddlers glittering like stars sashaying down the red carpet on Oscar night. My eyes were the flashing cameras documenting every angelic face as I yearned to whisk one away.

The young lives were brimming over with promise and joy. I longed to nurture a soul toward his or her potential by snuggling with good books, tossing a ball and sharing lessons I had learned. Oh, all the fun we could have! I dreamed of carousel rides, rolling down warm grassy hills, rocking chair lullabies sung to a trusting heart, photographing a cherub face smeared with a rainbow of colors from my makeup drawer…

Please, your highness. Please don’t rob me of all that wonder and delight! I pleaded within. I believed that this was my only chance of getting a newborn since we couldn’t afford multiple fertility treatments. I had to win the caseworker’s favor somehow.

In the moment I was only faintly aware that the actual battle lines had been drawn in the heavenlies. A throne far above the office held the King of all kings who possessed a superior agenda that he sought to manifest through willing vessels in our broken world. Only he had the foreknowledge to enact what was best for the young lives he had created. God’s good plans of restoration were constantly confronting the forces of evil that were luring young women into self-destructive behavior and hurling roadblocks before couples hoping to grow their families. What obstacles might we face? My battle was ultimately in the Lord’s hands. For the road ahead I needed to keep my eyes fixed on the unseen eternal realm in order to maintain hope and not allow the conflicts of the temporary visible realm to cause fear and defeat (2 Cor. 4:18).

At our next meeting with the caseworker we brought photos for her to approve for the pamphlets birthmothers would peruse when deciding who should adopt their babies. As I handed her a picture of me hugging Patrick from behind with my hair pulled up, contacts in and my face at a nice angle she exclaimed, You look glamorous! That does not look like you! The birth mom won’t know who to relate to. I was speechless. Then she held a very unflattering photo that I included to show us enjoying a sailboat ride while squinting in the sun. She firmly asserted, Now that looks just like you.

I was quite offended and hoped Patrick would jump in to defend me, but again he just sat there placidly, no doubt dreaming of skiing down pristine powder in Colorado’s mountains. The only difference between my appearance in the recent nice photo and how I looked in her office were my glasses and hairstyle. I figured that she was trying to get rid of me with her insults, but I refrained from asking for another caseworker, fearing I might not appear well adjusted, which could put us at the bottom of the stack.

After fifteen years of waiting to become a mother, I was an obsessed woman on a mission. During my twenties I had been so focused on my education in ministry and art that I had decided I would never have the time or energy for children. But severe academic burnout and subsequent recovery while working with many delightful children as an elementary teacher and nanny stirred within me an insatiable appetite for my own children whether they were biological or adopted.

Trying to discern God’s direction for marriage through a filter of perfectionism and a fortress around my heart caused me to repeatedly come up empty as I meandered through one church singles group after another. As a result, I didn’t go on my first date until the ripe old age of twenty-nine. Ten years of occasional brief relationships ensued. I finally found Patrick, a gentle, dependable engineer who had even less dating experience than myself. We were very grateful to have found each other after years of longing for families of our own. So we were ecstatic when I became pregnant during our first month of marriage. Life was working out splendidly at last.

I dreamed about the things we’d do over the years with our little boy or girl. But one day when I was looking for larger clothes, I heard God say, Don’t buy too many things because you don’t know if you will carry this baby to term. I quickly pushed the disturbing thought to the corner of my mind and went on with my life blissfully anticipating motherhood.

So I was quite shocked when I miscarried as I approached the end of my first trimester. Severe grief enveloped me because I knew this might have been my only chance at giving birth. I wondered what I did wrong that may have caused the miscarriage. Should I have given up biking and tennis? I asked God for comfort and words of encouragement. He graciously replied, If you had given birth to this baby, it would not have accomplished my purposes.

My sorrow was infused with relief. It helped to know the miscarriage wasn’t my fault and that it was all in God’s sovereign plan. It was not necessary for me to know the fullness of his purposes at the time. I had to keep trusting him. When I opened my Bible, I read Isaiah 25:8, …he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces… I felt comforted knowing that in heaven God’s love will be so satisfying that it will wipe away all my sorrow. Yet Patrick and I needed to keep consoling each other and drew closer to each other as a result of our loss.

Each month I was devastated when I realized that I was still not pregnant. How could I get pregnant immediately after getting married then fail to conceive for years afterwards? It was especially hard to see so many other women from church getting pregnant who were married around the same time I was. After awhile, I started missing out on their gatherings because I didn’t have a little one to participate in the playgroups. At least we knew a few childless couples to spend time with. After two years of failing to conceive we decided to pursue domestic adoption through a Christian agency.

So there I was spending many hours striving to create fifty stunning folders so birthmothers would be wowed by our dynamic life illustrated with photos of adventures including our YOUNGER friends, some of whom just started having kids. I was sickened by the fact that we had to sell ourselves to someone in order to get a child, but there was no other way to grab a mother’s attention. I also spent weeks carefully arranging a scrapbook, which provided a broader look into our lifestyle and extended family. With so much positive evidence, how could there be any doubt that we’d be great parents?

One night we went to our agency to hear about a couple’s experience with domestic adoption. In Michigan birthmothers had two months to change their minds after giving their baby to someone. This couple immediately fell in love with the baby they received as if she were their own. Then the birthmother changed her mind and wanted her daughter back. They were devastated. The man stood in front of the large group crying openly as he recalled the pain of losing the little girl. I was surprised to see his wife standing by him smiling and appearing unaffected. She either had good self-control or had already recovered. I knew I’d react like the man or maybe worse. For the first time I started to doubt whether I could handle adopting domestically due to the risk of loss.

After enduring months of the birthmother’s vacillations, they had a happy ending since they were able to keep the baby after all. Of course, the birthmother had great difficulty giving her baby up for adoption because such an act of selfless love would break her heart as she sought what was best for her child. Then I wondered how I would receive another woman’s baby while she stood there weeping with empty arms. I became overwhelmed as I pictured the scene.

My doubts became magnified when we were told we had to pay for the birthmother’s hospital costs and living expenses during her pregnancy (which is not the case for many other domestic adoptions). If she changed her mind and decided to keep her baby, we would lose all our money. There was no way I wanted to end up childless or wait years until we saved another $20,000 before we could try again to adopt. So I started thinking about foreign adoption because it cost almost the same and we’d be guaranteed a child. Maybe God would work a miracle and allow me to get pregnant in the meantime so I could still have the newborn I desired.

Patrick wasn’t too happy about switching to foreign adoption because we’d lose the two thousand dollars we had already invested in domestic adoption, but I was resolute. When we left the agency I told the supervisor about our caseworker’s rude and intimidating manner in hopes that she would be advised to treat other couples better.

A few months later I found a Christian agency out of state and signed up to adopt a girl from China. They assigned us a caseworker nearby who treated us with respect. However, all of the paperwork needed to prepare our dossier was daunting. I wasn’t clear about where to turn in papers for government approval. After getting burned by the first caseworker I was afraid to ask a lot of questions and sometimes didn’t even know what to ask, so I stumbled along.

Over the next few months I started to dream about welcoming a sweet little girl into our home. My sister’s husband was from China, so I knew our daughter would be warmly received into the extended family and share a heritage with her cousin. I was so excited to visit the China adoption support groups I discovered in our area.

We learned a lot as we listened to stories from international adoptive parents. I grew concerned as a few described how sick their girls were initially. However, they improved rapidly after they were seen at hospitals practicing western medicine. The first days were awkward as they tried to build relationships with their new daughters in cramped hotel rooms, but later on they were able to form meaningful bonds at home. That all sounded manageable until I pictured myself trying to survive the overseas flight with my fear of flying in turbulence. I had to tell myself that God would work it out somehow. I pressed on, determined to get a little girl.

As we neared the completion of our dossier, I strangely felt as though my feet were trudging through thick mud. I no longer sensed God giving me the grace to persevere. I was slowly dealing with the last of the paperwork in my own strength, which was minimal. I wondered if the Lord was trying to tell me that we were going the wrong way. I was afraid to tell Patrick about my doubts since I had upset him by quitting domestic adoption and I had no clear reason for ending our pursuit of a Chinese daughter. Now he would think I was really nutty.

Nevertheless, I was familiar with how God had led me through many situations in the past and knew I needed his encouragement in order to accomplish anything. If I didn’t have his strength, I couldn’t adopt from China. Yet, I still longed for a little Chinese girl. What was going on inside of me?

When I finally shared my doubts with Patrick, he didn’t want to hear about it. I couldn’t blame him. He was determined to complete the dossier so he started helping me. Within a few weeks we sent it off and waited with excited anticipation. We were told the whole process from start to finish could take two years before we got our daughter. The wait seemed unbearably long.

A couple weeks later as I was driving to a Beth Moore simulcast, I heard God say, Do not set your heart on a child from China. Why would he say such a thing? We had just completed our paperwork and sent about $7,000 to our agency to get things started.

A few days later I was looking in the mirror while fixing my hair and God spoke a portion of Jeremiah 29:11 to me in a very loving tone, I know the plans I have for you…not to harm you… I found that reassuring. God had good things in store for us. What were they?

Later that day Patrick came home with the bad news that he had been laid off from his automotive job. His eyes were sad and filled with defeat. Now I knew why God had mentioned the encouraging scripture about our future and why it had been such a struggle for me to complete the dossier. God wanted us to stop the paperwork back then so we could save the $7000, but not abandon hope that he could grant us children by some other means. If only we had obeyed in faith earlier!

While we consoled each other with a long hug, a strange delight welled up in me as I thought about all the possibilities that lay ahead. My mind gravitated toward the southern states where we could revel in warm sunny days by the ocean, beautiful gardens and more of a Christian culture. I had felt somewhat alone since several of our friends moved out of Michigan for new jobs after the auto industry and the housing market were hit hard. It was February of 2008 when layoffs were becoming commonplace, so we weren’t surprised. Patrick’s company had been gradually letting people go since the previous fall.

At least Patrick had ten weeks of severance pay and we still had money saved for adoption that we could use to cover living expenses and renovations to make our house more attractive in a fiercely competitive market. It was a great disappointment when the adoption agency told us our file would be on hold until Patrick found another job. As we watched our money dwindle over the next few months, we saw our dream of adopting from China float away.

I was so grateful that God had given me a loving warning of what was to come so my heart wouldn’t be overwhelmed with sorrow. I had the confidence that he was still in control. Once we settled down somewhere we’d pursue our last option: adopting through foster care.

We had considered foster parenting earlier and put it on hold because the likelihood of adopting a younger child was small. After being a poor enforcer of discipline while teaching a class with a few disruptive third graders on Detroit’s border, I seriously doubted that I could handle older children who had been abused, neglected, and shuffled around to various homes. Another strike against me was my inability to let kids go back home without having my heart ripped out and worrying about them. Plus, being highly sensitive, I was not cut out for the callused manner of many working in the system who had witnessed years of family tragedies.

To make matters worse, I had a compulsion to know all the details of a situation so I could attempt to control the outcome. I also expected just about everyone working in the foster system to put forth a concerted effort to do what was in the best interests of the children. After all, lives were at stake and that was why they chose their career in the first place, wasn’t it?

That was more than three strikes against me. Looking at the obvious, I was not qualified to play the foster game. Many would have told me to just resign myself to never becoming a mother.

However, I served a God of the impossible who helps his people reach the dreams he plants within their hearts. And he longs to answer the cries of the innocent children who are unable to save themselves. Despite my obvious weaknesses I was determined to push ahead into the unknown, trusting that the Lord would carry me when my steps faltered. Patrick, the natural risk taker, was ready for any adventure. I was fortunate to have his steady hand by my side.

Chapter 2 - The Truly Wild West

Then Jesus said to his disciples, ’If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.’ Matthew 16:24-25

All enthused about a better life somewhere new, I began a mad housing search in Tennessee, Kentucky and Texas, but I was primarily smitten with North Carolina due to its pleasant climate, mountains and sand dunes along the coast. Patrick had fallen in love with Colorado during business and ski trips, so he began his job search out west. I was upset that he put my states second and I assumed he was merely focused on what he wanted. It did not occur to me that God might be leading Patrick through his desires.

After several phone interviews leading nowhere, we decided to take two exploratory trips so Patrick could meet with job recruiters. The first trip included stops in Ohio, Tennessee and Kentucky, but nothing came from it. Our second trip took us to Colorado where we were hit with strong winds and snow flying horizontally in April. I was impressed by my first encounter with the massive mountains even though they were partially enshrouded with storm clouds. The icy hills terrified me as we drove around. I had absolutely no desire to return.

On the way home we enjoyed touring Mount Rushmore and ran into Nicholas Cage along the boardwalk while he was filming National Treasure II. I rushed at him with my camera, but before I could focus, two guys immediately jumped toward me and told me to keep moving, so I only got a poor shot of him from a distance. We hiked around the Badlands, which looked like the perfect setting for a science fiction film on another planet.

Patrick’s interview in Colorado had gone well. They followed up with a phone interview a month later where he became unusually conversational partly because he was so enthused about working near mountains. Then there was a prolonged silence and we got nervous. But after five months of unemployment, the company in Colorado offered Patrick a job.

When he told me about the job offer I bawled like a baby because I hated Colorado based on my one visit there. It was a cold wasteland with high altitude that made it hard for me to breathe. Nor did I want to live that far from my father who had health issues.

Patrick said he would turn down their offer if I wanted him to. I was surprised that he was willing to give up his dream job in order to make me happy. I wanted to tell him to decline the position, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he didn’t get another job offer for six months or longer.

I told him to accept the job and he happily packed the PT Cruiser with all he would need to live on indefinitely while I stayed in Michigan to sell our house. As I waved good-bye, I wondered how we would handle being separated for months on end. We had been married five years by that point and had a strong trust built. We agreed to talk and pray on the phone every night.

The next month I flew out to see Patrick and was blown away by the splendor of red cliffs with a backdrop of majestic snowcapped peaks. Patrick took me on a few hikes and I acclimated to the higher elevations fairly well. As I soaked in the endless beauty around me I wondered how I could have loathed such a glorious place. I suppose God had me travel there on one of the worst weather days to test me and see if I was willing to let Patrick have his dream and let go of mine. In doing so I ended up with the privilege of photographing endless miles of mountain trails and impressive wildlife.

One bright morning while Patrick was at work, I headed to a park for a hike. At 7:30 A.M. most trails were empty. Refreshed by the cool air, I trekked up a small hill and as I glanced beyond a boulder, I was stunned to see two cougars staring at me from about twenty-six feet away out in the open. I had interrupted their journey after a rabbit breakfast perhaps. My first thought was, What are they doing here? God has given me a rare opportunity to encounter wildlife few people see. What a thrill! I had my camera around my neck, so I quickly shot two photos, hoping they were focused.

Then I heard God say, Now scare them off. Fortunately, I had recently read about safety during a cougar encounter: never turn your back on them or crouch, but try to look as large as possible. I didn’t have a jacket to lift above my head, so all I could do was raise my arms and growl softly. They continued to stare at me like frozen statues. Their eyes were void of any warmth, completely unlike the serene gaze of big cats in zoos. They were cold-blooded killers that would have no remorse.

I realized I could die, but I didn’t feel it was my time to go. I had to get serious so I roared as loud as I could with eyes bulging. Instantly, the male crouched down and hung his head with sad, scared eyes as if he was apologizing for having stared at me. He crept slowly toward the bushes and the female was right on his tail.

Wow! I felt empowered! Just a few weeks prior I had run away from a tiny yipping dog because I was afraid it would bite my ankles. Now I scared away not one, but two cougars! They looked like they had been enjoying a good diet, so they weren’t desperate for food.

I was afraid to make my way back to the car because they had disappeared into a mass of bushes. What if they decided to turn around and follow me? But God was merciful and his timing was perfect. After not seeing a soul for a half-hour, a couple touring from New York happened to come up the path just then. I jumped toward them exclaiming, I am so happy to see you! I just ran into two cougars! They took off that way. The man jumped with excitement as he rushed to the bushes to get a look. I thought he was crazy and urged him to stop if he wanted to live. As I tried to show them my photos, I was surprised by how hard my hands were shaking from the adrenaline rush. Then the couple escorted me to the main area of the park.

After that I noticed how much my fear of dogs had diminished. As I approached my car, two large dogs came bounding down the path and I was unaffected once I realized they weren’t wild animals. God had just given me an unforgettable encounter where I had to trust him for protection. Would my newfound courage help me stand up to intimidation from caseworkers and potential danger from incensed birthparents with criminal backgrounds? Would my faith stay strong to believe for God’s intervention in the lives of children caught in the midst of chaos? I had no idea what I was in for as a foster parent, but God knew.

While flying back to Michigan I zoomed on my second photo and noticed that the male was showing his teeth and the whites of his eyes. He was alarmed by the clicking of my camera. I was glad I had scared them away when I did. After that I had a healthy fear of cougars and carried a bear sized pepper spray on hikes.

It was good I was returning to family because my dad needed emergency brain surgery and one of the best surgeons in the nation worked near my house. My dad traveled down state to stay with me. I feared he wouldn’t survive because of other health issues, so I had a lot of people praying. After a long and stressful day of surgery, it was such a relief to hear he survived with his eyesight and memory intact. It was a real miracle.

As the months marched on and we kept lowering our asking price, the housing values around Detroit continued to plummet. Many people fled to other states after losing their jobs, leaving behind unsold houses. People started joking, Last one out turn off the lights! I was so grateful that Patrick’s company paid for movers to pack us and transport our things.

The man who headed up the crew had an impressive work ethic and was very cordial. He told me the heart-wrenching story of his time spent in foster care after I mentioned that Patrick and I were thinking of becoming foster to adopt parents. He had been separated from his siblings as a young teen and lived in several foster homes where all they did was tell him to do his homework and help clean the house. However, at his last home there was a kind older woman who took him fishing and did