Broken Wings: An Adventure in Foster Care
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All of the children who passed through our lives were angels, angels with broken wings. Most of the parents had been charged with abuse, neglect, or child endangerment. They came at any hour, day or night. The phone would ring, the proper car seat would be loaded into the car, and off we would bound to collect another angel. We would gather the precious bundles and set out to repair their broken wings. The angels appeared and stayed for hours, week, or even years. They came empty-handed, stealing pieces of our hearts as they passed through our lives.
These are the stories of some of the many angels who have entered our hearts and lives for a brief time. It is my desire to touch your hearts as the angels have touched ours.
Andela Jamison
Andela Jamison and her husband Jake are the parents of twelve children. Four of these children are biological and eight are adopted. Over the past twenty-five years, she has dedicated her life to ministering to children in church settings and at home. Susan and her husband have pastored churches while they fostered children, which sometimes seemed like the same thing. Andela holds a degree in early childhood education. She worked in several Head Start and pre-k programs. She enjoys writing full time along with teaching, scrap booking, interior decorating, and gardening. Andela has written eulogies, personal dedications for special occasions, and has published some poetry. She and her husband are the proud grandparents of fifteen grandchildren.
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Broken Wings - Andela Jamison
Copyright © 2015 Andela Jamison.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.
WestBow Press
A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.westbowpress.com
1 (866) 928-1240
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,
and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
ISBN: 978-1-4908-8519-3 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4908-8520-9 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015909816
WestBow Press rev. date: 10/27/2015
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Jacob
Caitlyn
Becky
Kissy Fur and Terri
Three Little Princesses
Jerry
Kyle and Aries
Hanna and Bo
The Doll
From the Crack House to Our House
Crack Angel
Starving Angel
Traded Child
All in a Daze
Work
Gabby
Buddy
Smoldering Angel
P.J. and Smiley
Mare-Mare
Conclusion
Dedication
For my mom, who taught me the true value of a child.
Thank you for instilling this in me.
I surely miss you.
Acknowledgments
To my wonderful husband, pastor and best friend: Thank you for more than thirty-eight years of love and faithful companionship. You are my strength and source of encouragement, without whom I would be lost. You are a godly man and a true father to the fatherless. I adore you.
To our older children: thank you for sharing your parents with the many children over the years who needed a family.
To Their spouses: Thank you for the beautiful grandchildren and allowing them to share their Nana and Pappy
as well.
To our eight adopted children: Thank you for the privilege of being called Mom and Dad
To all the foster children who have come and gone (deep sigh): Thank you for letting us love you.
To Elizabeth Witt: Thank you for your encouragement and keen editorial skills.
Most of all, to my heavenly father: Thank you for calling me to care for hurting children everywhere and for equipping me with the love and patience I need every day.
Introduction
Please, God, take this burden away! I cannot handle this pain! Why can’t we keep just one?
I sobbed uncontrollably, as I lay across our king-sized bed. We had just returned from the courthouse, where it had been ordered that the little guy we had come to love over the last two years was to be returned to his biological father and stepmother. The words of the Juvenile Master had pricked my heart like a thorn. He had stated,
Common sense would be to leave the child with the Jamison’s, but I’m going to rule the child be returned to his biological family immediately.
We had a couple of months to pack the last two years of this little boy’s life into a few cardboard boxes.
The sorrow was more than I could bear. I counted the cost of caring and found my own account overdrawn. My heart was torn into more pieces than I even knew had existed. I thought, Never again will I be so foolish as to love so passionately! Never again will I let myself give without receiving!
I had grown to believe that it was the Lord’s will for us to adopt this little boy named Jacob. How could this have turned around so profoundly? I was more than angry. After all, by faith, I purchased a children’s bible and had his full adoptive name engraved on the cover. I truly believed he was meant to stay and be our son.
More than fifty children had passed through our doors by that time. We always knew they were not our children, and that one day they would be returned to their families, where they belonged. Still, my heart would not be consoled. At this crucial point, I decided to stop being a foster parent. I wanted nothing more than to be released from this love I have for children. It simply hurt too much. Child after child had entered into our home wounded and broken. We happily bound their wounds, and loved them like our own. They left us with holes inside that would forever remain empty. I felt this last heartbreaking event was my proverbial last straw.
Of course it wasn’t. Over the years, we cared for so many more children who needed us. We picked them up in emergency rooms, police stations, and courthouses. They came wearing anything from a stiff t-shirt covered with three days of play to a urine-soaked sleeper with a two day old diaper drooping down one leg.
All of the children who passed through our lives were angels, angels with broken wings. Most of the parents had been charged with abuse, neglect, or child endangerment. They came at any hour, day or night. The phone would ring, the proper car seat would be loaded into the car, and off we would bound to collect another angel. We would gather the precious bundles and set out to repair the broken wings. The angels appeared and stayed for hours, week, or even years. They came empty-handed, stealing pieces of our hearts as they passed through our lives.
These are the stories of some of the many angels who have entered our hearts and lives for a brief time. It is my desire to touch your hearts as the angels have touched ours.
Jacob
Twenty years have passed since we took the call that we thought led to our greatest heartbreak. It turns out, this was only the beginning. My husband, Jake, had taken our daughter with him on his mission to collect and angel. As I paced and peered out the window, waiting anxiously for their return, I wondered what we would need to help this little one with. I was in the kitchen when I heard the front door open. My daughter held a two-year-old, button-eyed boy, tightly in her arms. As I laughed at his inquisitive expressions, I did not hear my husband call my name.
Little Jacob had delightful, coal black eyes that sparkled with the radiance of a diamond. He was fidgety and looked scared to death. His little eyes flashed as they took in the living room. If the little guy had been bidding for my heart, the auctioneer would have surely announced, Sold!
As I blinked away a tear of bliss, I heard a noise behind me. As I turned toward the sound, I was thrilled to find an infant in a small car seat.
Surprise!
Jake blurted. We didn’t know he had a baby brother.
I promptly loosened the straps of the seat, gathered up the small bundle and delivered him from his snowsuit. His blue, knit hat popped off, revealing his little, bald head.
He looks like a miniature old man!
I laughed as I picked him up and planted a kiss on his shiny top.
This little tyke named Joey was a blue-eyed treasure. At five months, he was noticeably behind developmentally. He lay still as a newborn and did not attempt to reach for toys, his fingers or a bottle. He did not like to sit upright, and was frightened by sudden movements. Oh, but he could smile! His little toothless grins caused frequent outbursts of laughter.
After some time passed, and with the undivided attention he began to receive from our twin daughters, it seemed his lights
turned on. Joey was captivated by everything. In the months that passed by ever so quickly, he became interested in playing, crawling, and eventually walking. Every day marked another milestone in his life; and before long, he was involved in his brother’s mischief.
We learned