ADOPTION: Epilogue – God Numbers Our Days, Blog Post #28

It has been nearly three months since my last post. I purposely took a break due to tragic circumstances involving one of my adopted children. The same week my book came out, my 18 year old daughter went missing. Here is that story: a final chapter I never thought I would have to write yet all part of my adoption journey. My whole book is true now more than ever.

(This is the entire chapter, not an excerpt.)

ADOPTION: Epilogue – God Numbers Our Days   

“Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved, you and your household.”        Acts 16:31

Throughout this book I have emphasized the importance of pointing your children to Christ. None of this earthly life matters in the end as much as our salvation through faith alone in Jesus Christ. Your daily efforts of training your child to hopefully become a successful adult do indeed matter and are worth the work, yet only one thing is certain on the other side of death: the Christian faith of our family members. If you fail in every other area, if your child rebels in all areas, you need to work toward their desire to call on the name of Jesus Christ, and if you also do as head of your household, they will be saved along with you for all eternity.

Why should this matter in the thick of adoption struggles? Because our tomorrows are not promised, and neither are they for our children. At any point in time, God may call us home. Only He numbers our days and calls us home to Heaven when He wills. (A person’s days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed. Job 14:5 NIV) Are you ready? Are your children ready?

Last fall, My Fair Lady (Chapter 66) began her senior year of home high school by enrolling in a public speaking course at our local community college, providing childcare and tutoring for another homeschool family, and participating in a local church’s Christmas drama production. She maintained this schedule three days a week and was home for her other high school assigned work the rest of the time. As we live so far from town, she stayed two nights weekly with the family she tutored. It worked very well for the first month-and-a-half. She was receiving A’s on her college assignments, the family was pleased with her work, and she enjoyed the church drama team.

One night in mid-October, she was four hours late coming home. The next week she didn’t come home at all one night when she should have. She wouldn’t return my phone calls or texts. I became anxious and worried. When she finally came home, she looked exhausted. She had several reasonable excuses as to the issues which delayed her return. Since she had become fairly trustworthy, I assumed the best. Yet, something nagged at me.

She was easily angered, overly tired, and lacked her cheerful demeanor. She played her piano with a bit less zest and even missed a coveted lesson. One day she came home and my car smelled of smoke. I reviewed the rules regarding use of my car. She apologized and promised to follow-through. She shared a few more outlandish tales involving her fellow college students. I kept close track of her, checked her cell phone recent calls and texts, and spoke with adults to whom she was responsible. I have always been an attentive, intentional parent and continued to be so during this season of transition as she prepared to live on her own after high school graduation.

One night, two hours late, she showed up looking like something the cat dragged home. We argued. She fled to her room. Later, when I went to console her, she let me know her birth mother had contacted her against her wishes, as well as her therapist’s and my desires. The downward spiral had begun. A few weeks went on with no significant change for better or worse.

At the end of October, we drove to her monthly orthodontist appointment in the metro area. The younger kids and I ran errands while she had her adjustment work completed. I came back an hour later and saw an ambulance in the parking lot. Grabbing my phone out of my purse, I saw a long list of urgent calls. Running into the office, I was told she was having a grand mal seizure (her third in the past two years) and was being taken to the nearest hospital. I followed the ambulance to a facility we had never been to before so upon arrival, there was an extensive interview about her health and social issues. It was the longest seizure she ever had – more than 4 hours long. Because she was 18, they wouldn’t go over a lot of things with me except to tell me what I had to do for her when we got home.

Later, she confessed to having been smoking pot for a few months and then had started doing meth the week before! Flabbergasted yet not surprised, I took strong measures to deal with it. I advised the college she had to drop her class for health reasons, told the church they would need to find a replacement for her drama part, and let the family know she could no longer work for them as she was using drugs and had become friends with people who would endanger their children. She stayed home in her room for a week while she detoxed. It was rough, but I did my duty and checked on her every two hours, bringing food and water every four. Several times she awoke crying and repentant.

The long path of trying to find drug rehab began, was achingly frustrating and in the end, unsuccessful. Since she was no longer a child, no lock-up residential facility was available, and I was not going to drive 90 miles every day for 6 months for day treatment. Total failures and disconnect across multiple systems – no wonder our nation is a mess!

One night, still not free of her meth addiction, she ran away after we had a verbal disagreement. I begged law enforcement to help as she was a danger to herself. She was also ripe for trafficking as a beautiful yet vulnerable young lady. They never found her. She turned herself in three days later after calling me: I had let her know she had been placed on the national runaway registry and would be detained by law enforcement if stopped for whatever reason.

I went to meet with her at the sheriff’s office. She was belligerent and looked the worst I had ever seen her. Probably a victim of physical abuse, certainly dehydration, and most likely still using, I encouraged her that she needed help and to turn from these deadly choices. I expressed my concern about more seizures leading to brain damage and that I would help her in any way I could. She didn’t want to live at home anymore so I arranged for a relative to take her in.

On the way to the relative’s home in the metro area, I became concerned that she was far deeper into sin and trouble than any of us feared. I called the relative and voiced concern that she needed 24/7/365 supervision which he couldn’t provide due to working his job away from home. With nowhere else to go, my daughter demanded I take her back to the sheriff’s office. We arrived after dark and no one was around. As I was reviewing options, she ran again. That was the last time I saw her.

I heard reports of her living on the street and then in the homeless shelter of our small town. I assume she was also staying in drug houses since she had told me she had before. I prayed as there was nothing else I could do. I prayed because I knew it was the most important thing I could do. Many caring adults in our small town community kept tabs on her and let me know what was going on. Some paid for nights at motels. Some gave her food or gift cards. Winter was in full swing and it snowed frequently. I packed a duffle bag of winter outdoor gear and dropped it at her therapist’s office in case she went there.

She continued, thankfully, to see her therapist. Then, in December, she stopped going altogether. I also arranged for one of our elders and a family friend to meet with her. She was dishonest and rebellious while meeting, refusing to come to grips with the dire consequences she was facing if she didn’t get right with God and turn her behaviors back around.

At one point, she obtained a small apartment and a job. The job lasted a week and the apartment manager kicked her out when she couldn’t make rent. Spring came and there wasn’t much positive progress. If we talked on the phone she would be hateful and belligerent. But, I made every effort to keep the lifeline open for her return. I texted her every week that I loved her and was available to help. She lost her phone service several times so called from different numbers but I would have new ones to text to.  I continued to pray. I prayed to God that He would do whatever it took for her to get right with Him. Be careful when you pray like that….

In early April, just before her 19^th birthday, law enforcement drove out to our remote farm to check on her whereabouts. A friend of hers had reported her missing. She was last seen with a 41-year-old man who was wanted by law enforcement. The county sheriff and local police department were working together and they wanted to file a missing-persons report on the two of them. Would I agree? I did.

I warned my other children what was happening. The report hit the news the next day and it seemed the whole nation was searching for her. It is horrifying to open the local news site online and see one of your own children on a national alert.

Within a few days, someone in our county found a body. The following week, someone else found a second body. Law enforcement was tight-lipped while the coroner and multiple agencies worked on identifications. I called my son in the military – her biological brother – to warn him of possibly needing Red Cross emergency leave. He flew home immediately. We waited and waited for confirmation. We began to plan for the worst possible scenario which included a memorial service. Finally, two weeks later, dental records confirmed our worst fears: My Fair Lady had been murdered.

In the long months since the stunning news, I have experienced every emotion possible. It has been a horrifying ordeal I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Yet, the peace which passes all understanding has enveloped us. God spared her from a fate worse than death. Though she was an amazingly talented individual who could have accomplished anything in this world, she lacked the discernment and resiliency needed for her adult life, so God spared her, and me, from what would have come.

It is hard to say I am thankful to God but I am. She is no longer suffering from her childhood traumas and I am no longer suffering from the Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome that so many parents of Reactive Attachment Disorder children experience. I know she is at perfect peace. I know she is in Heaven for eternity with my husband and I will see her again. We will celebrate, together, being with the good and gracious God we serve, forever.

Though her RAD related behaviors – especially toward me – were often horrendous, the fruit of her Christian walk is seen in the lives of so many people we know who knew her, especially children who loved her because she showed compassion toward them. God gives us each many chances to repent and come to Him; I believe He did that for her before He took her to Himself. I believe that because she confessed Christ as her Savior and was baptized in Him – and so was I as head of my household – that she is with Him in glory. I can trust in His promises, and I do.

As for me and my remaining family, we are working our way through the steps of grief and are doing well despite the tragedy of it all. Two young men have been accused of the murders and I have started attending the long process of court proceedings. I pray justice will be served for her. I pray they will repent and get right with God.

We are looking forward to three marriages that will happen amongst my adult children during this coming year, and for the bright futures that my youngest adopted children have before them once they finish their education. My Fair Lady’s biological brother is a Marine and is thriving. He is engaged to a wonderful young lady who has three children from her broken first marriage and he is excited about being their Daddy. I have every confidence he is ready and able to live a happily married life. I encouraged him when he came home last month that he could honor his baby sister’s life by living his to its fullest.

The time I would have spent parenting My Fair Lady, will now be spent encouraging and teaching other Christian adults how to help traumatized children overcome their struggles as much as is humanly possible. I fully trust God will do the rest. Children are a priceless treasure. They deserve our best efforts. Whether we do the right things for them out of love or duty, we can do it because of Jesus.

If your church or community group wants to learn how to assist families who are raising traumatized children, please contact me at: [email protected] to discuss my church leader handout, PowerPoint training presentations, and “case of books” publisher discount.