KEEPS YOU ON YOUR TOES

 Every day is a new day in fostering.

Everyone in fostering knows this.

It's not the big things, which can come along like unexpected hurricanes.

It's the little things, behind which sometimes lurk big things.

Take middle child, and yesterday.

Child had endured the school Nativity Play. 

Child didn't have a part, but as the parent one shows up out of willing.

I've attended roughly every Nativity Play for every child in my care, starting as natural parent through to this year.

Jeez, I must be up there with the Guiness Book Of Records greatest number of school Nativity Plays ever seen by one parent.

I was even (strangely) cast as Simon Peter in a Nativity Play at my school, when I was age 9, making me the Gary Lineker of Nativities.

So. Driving home middle child says;

"You know that hymn?"

Me: 'Which one?"

The one that goes "And man will live for evermore because of Christmas Day?"

Me: (Singing) "Hark now hear the angels sing?"

Child; "Christ was born today"

Us together: "And man will live for evermore...because of Christmas Day."

Me: "Yes, most people remember that one."

Child: "Its rubbish isn't it? People don't live for ever. The lady next door didn't. And if she had of done it would have been because the doctors could make her better. And not because it's Christmas."

Oh Lordy…they say; "Out of the mouths of babes…"

So I figured that next door neighbour Ann's passing had had an effect on the children, made them thoughful.

This one wasn't going to be brushed aside with my trademark distraction "What flavour ice cream do you want after tea?"

But how does a humble foster mum answer questions that have confounded scientists and theologians for thousands of years? 

So I explained, as best I could that Christians, along with people who follow many other religions, believe that when people die, if they've been good people, their souls go to some kind of Heaven forever. And maybe get reunited with loved ones. Pets even, maybe.

The mood lightened a bit. The idea of dogs running around with a pair of angel wings is funny. Isn't it?

And would a pet budgie need a set of angel wings to go with the wings it's already got?

Then we talked about life in Heaven, both of us probably knowing that if it exists in any way it's probably nothing like we could ever imagine.

But we agreed there'd be ice cream.

Child opted for chocolate ice cream to follow spag boll.

Panic over. We arrived home and the TV went on with something on Netflix.

Keeps you on your toes does fostering.

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THE CONVERSATIONS YOU HAVE

 Our next door neighbour has passed away.

Ann was late eighties, and had been unwell for some time. Her passing was peaceful, her family at her bedside.

I popped round next day and offered our condolences, which was much appreciated. Her husband was weepy, but said how much he loved her. Then he said this;

"I'm ninety and I've got this far without ever seeing anyone die, and now I have, and it would have to be her wouldn't it?"

On returning I mentioned what he'd said and the children's ears pricked up.

Naturally they wanted all the details. I had precious little extra information, but was suddenly cowed by a burdening sense of responsibility.

In fostering one ends up doing and saying all sorts of unexpected things, all in the name of helping other people's children make their way in life.

It had never ocurred to me I'd one day be explaining one of life's greatest mysteries to other people's children.

Death.

So hard. The questions they asked;

"Why do people die?"

"What's it like when someone dies?"

"We don't really go to Heaven do we? But is death the end?

In answering suchlike questions I found myself trying to imagine what each child had already heard about death, and accentuate the positive aspects of how it could work for them.

As the conversation went along I began to get a bead on why death interested them so much; for children in care it all had to do with their separation from their real families.

I've often noticed that foster children care far more about their real mum and dad and brothers and sisters than one would imagine. 

You tend to assume that having been removed from people who either neglected them or treated them with actual cruelty, they'd be relieved to be in a better environment. 

It simply isn't so.

The children have bonded with their abusers, and they not only worry about them, but long to be returned to them.

And, as the chatter about death and angels and ghosts and cemetries expanded, it began to dawn on me that they were worried that their 'significant others' might die before they went back to them.

A big worry alright.

So I re-worked the conversation into a re-assurance; 

a) that their mums and dads and their whole family was well, and young, and

 b) if they became ill the Health Service would treat them and their social workers would ensure that everyone was informed and stayed in touch.

All that sort of stuff.

Some positives came out. In fostering you simply cannot have too much information.

Middle child said that it was thought that his granny hadn't long left, and that he was fond of her; she baked drop scones and was partial to giving him a pound for no reason.

Nobody had any idea about the child's grandmother, so I made a note to bring it up next time we get a visit from our Blue Sky social worker.

Youngest observed that his family had put down their elderly dog, but hadn't told him until the came home from school, and it made him sad that he hadn't said goodbye. This child was definitely scarred by the experience, and I pictured the child imagining every time they came home from school hearing that someone even more important than the dog was no more.  I promised that would never happen in our home and that everyone would be kept informed about everything, there'd be no more sad surprises.

Of course, the entire conversation was made all the trickier by one simple stark fact. A fact so humungous that I don't know how I got through a challenging bit of fostering mostly intact.

Namely my own beliefs which are;

No-one really knows what death is like or what happens when you die.

But as a foster parent with responsibility to ease the weight on a displaced child's life I took to telling some gentle half-truths, such as saying that there might be life after death and if there is we might get to be with all our friends and family for ever.

I seem to remember finishing by saying it's up to each of us to work out what we believe and live our lives according to the morals we believe in.

And if that's God at work, He is real and alive, at least in our heads.

Pretty profound for a mere foster mum.

Yay! Me for Pope!

Ann's funeral is Friday.

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