My Purpose

I'm growing closer and closer to my purpose. My latest (foster) teen that ran away nearly 3 weeks ago was captured last night by the police.

I spent all day Friday negotiating her return with the 7 social workers who weren't able to talk to one another, etc. etc. In fact, I was the person that notified her parents.

I could go in depth about this - about how her biological mother had near-daily onversations with her, while teen was a runaway. But I'm too tired.

Long story short: The police found her and her twin yesterday. My twin was returned to DSS care. I retrieved her last night.

But today, while I attended an 8 hour training, my teen left. Again. I'm giving her 1 hour (until midnight) to meet her 11:30 curfew.

But trust. I am not holding my breath.

Hotel Tiff

It's been 4 1/2 days since my 4th teen ran away (not all have been runaways). She ran on Halloween - the night before her big court date. She's somewhere on the streets in a vacant apartment building with her identical teen.

Her clothes and belongings are still in my home. I haven't even cleaned up yet, and DSS called with another placement. I'm still emotionally attached to her.

When I explained that my teen is missing and I still have her things, the worker persisted, "But she's AWOL, right? We need a bed. It's just respite, Ms. Bright."

And just like that, my former foster daughter, current runaway, is pushed to the side.

PTSD

Nearly a year of being a licensed foster parent, and I'd had only 2 respite experiences. Both teenage girls: one 17 years and the other 16. Tough. Traumatic.  Neither experience lasted more than 3 days.

My 3rd teen arrived a month away from the expiration of my license. Her problems were similar to my own. I accepted immediately and hoped for permanency.

We haven't fully completed week 3, and I feel as if I've fought a war.I've been beaten.  I've wanted to blog daily, but most times I haven't even been able to find the words. When I can find the words, I'm too exhausted to type.

In 2 weeks, 5 days, I've called the police twice and the crisis hotline once. We've shopped, made dinner and fellowshipped together. We've argued. We've loved. We've talked. And talked. And talked. And argued again.

But tonight? I'm simply weary. She hasn't communicated with me in 7 hours. For the 2nd day in a row, she hasn't returned home when she was due.

I've declared her a missing child (the 2nd time doing such in 2.5 weeks).

Granted, I'm dramatic. But quite honestly, I feel as if I've been battling in my own home. My peace is disrupted.

I pray for guidance, direction, forgiveness  and patience.

I just don't know what else to do.