Denver Catholic

27 DENVER CATHOLIC | MAY 16-22, 2015 Why we need more foster parents R ight before Christmas 2013 we got a call for a little girl who needed a foster home. That day I picked up this scared little girl. She was terrifi ed. The fi rst night I held her in my arms so she could sleep. Every time I moved a muscle she would wake up crying and needed reassurance to be able to fall back to sleep. Over the next few days we realized she didn't even know her own name though she was 19 months old. She absolutely would not fall asleep unless I was in the room with her. Bathing was such a foreign event that we had to slowly introduce her to bathing over the course of a week. We've come a long way since then. A couple of weeks ago I supervised a "good-bye" visit between her and her biological mother. Days prior to this visit, her mother relinquished her parental rights. For my husband and I, this was a joyous time, as we will now be able to adopt Kiki, this little girl that we have grown to love. But part of me is so very sad for her biological mother. Therein lies the paradoxical nature of foster care. Looking back over the time we have been involved in bringing other people's children into our home, there have been unbelievable highs and devastating lows. But, we would do it all over again! For many years, my husband and I tried to conceive a child but were unable to become pregnant. When it became apparent that I wouldn't be able to have a baby, we talked about foster care and adopt- ing from foster care. I really felt I was being called by God to foster care. So, we took a step forward and waited. I was afraid of my heart being broken again. It took a few years for us to become certifi ed because of my fears and uncertainty so we took the process slowly. My husband was there at every turn telling me to just pray about it. I would pray, take another step, then wait. Since becoming foster parents, we have experienced the struggles that come with caring for a foster child. We have cared for premature and drug-ex- posed babies who cried non-stop, children who come from homes where they were neglected, and where biologi- cal parents have substance abuse issues. We have taken in children with a high level of need due to signifi cant trauma they suŸ ered in their life, and those who have been moved several times. Many of these children have behavioral issues and will most likely require therapy and support for years to come. As I look back on all these children that have come into my heart, I can see the hand of God working in each case. I want everyone to know—there are chil- dren out there who need your help. Will you answer the call? We did and we have cared for a total of nine children. We have said good-bye to fi ve of them and even though that was so hard, I wouldn't trade any of it, not even the heartbreak and tears. Our lives and theirs have gone exactly as they were supposed to, exactly as God planned it. Four of the children now share our home, and our last name, forever. We couldn't be happier. While the "system" might be broken, that doesn't change the fact that there are thousands of children in need of a good, safe, stable, loving home. So regardless how broken the system is, it's worth it because these children did not ask to be mistreated. They deserve to be safe and loved. They are "the least of these." It's been our experience that they give back joy and love 100-fold. We are abundantly blessed! Children deserve to be safe and loved Michelle Schuldt, and her husband Matt, have been foster parents with Catholic Charities since 2012. They are parishioners at St. Pius X in Aurora. Guest Column MICHELLE SCHULDT I want to make him happy. I enjoy it too. I love him. I'm just having fun. My friends will think I'm weird if I stop. I have said each of these and more. For years, I believed that the only thing I could oŸ er a guy was my body. That somehow I wasn't pretty enough, smart enough or fun enough for him to love me for me. Maybe I didn't know how to have a normal conversation with men? I laid awake in bed and felt it down in my core: a deep longing in my heart. The voice of my heart was screaming to be held. I've been held before, quite often actually, for many years, but never in the way that I'd truly desired. Night after night in a dazed state of drunken confusion, I'd laid in bed with a man whom I knew I didn't like, let alone love, wondering the next morning how I got there or what I even did. Or maybe I did remember. That was worse. It was never right; the causal nature of it all, how common it was to share that intimate moment with a stranger. It was never right. There was always some- thing that didn't feel okay. How did I get to this point? The girl at 13 who started to be physi- cal with her boyfriends was now tossing herself at a diŸ erent guy each weekend. For what? I was having fun, right? I could have never guessed years later I would be seething in pain from the loss that accompanied giving away a part of my heart each time I succumbed to having sex. Each time I allowed him to come over past 10 p.m. even though I knew where it would lead. And I know that many women continue to do it, with someone who isn't their husband, and I get it. I really do. I get the need to be cherished, desired, held and mostly, to be loved. To hear someone tell you the things your heart longs for. Yet it wasn't until three years after I stopped having sex that I realized the way my heart really felt; bruised, crushed and angry. Really angry. Angry with men and I had no idea why. No one told me that sleeping with that guy from the bar would leave me feeling more empty than I thought pos- sible. No one told me that it would make me feel more unworthy and more alone. No one told me that with each one-night stand, my heart was building up walls that would keep everyone out. That allowing men access to my body would make it seemingly impossible to receive a hug, hear someone tell me I'm beau- tiful, or let myself be loved. I stopped having sex—and you have the freedom to stop as well. In college, thanks to God's inter- vention, I realized that the lie I was living needed to end. That despite what the world was telling me, I could stop having sex. I could save it for its proper context and I could regain the part of me that is so precious. My heart could remain with God until he asks me to give it away. Meeting God in the depths of my heart and hearing his voice was for me the start of the battle to change—the battle to claim a new life in Christ and to shed away the masks of false identity. And it was scary, really scary. Would I fi nd someone who would love me for me? I was graced with the presence of many infl uential women at the time who continue to show me that living with dignity and strength comes from my knowledge of who my Father is, and who I am: his daughter. I learned that while on his cross, the Lord saw all those lonely nights I lay in bed wondering if this was as good as it gets. He bore the pain of my wounds and today allows me to live in the freedom, which he has promised. The wounds that sometimes still feel open and raw I have slowly and gently placed into the hands of him who speaks the truth of my goodness to my heart. He is my Father and yours, fi rst let him in and he will do the rest. P.S. You are enough. Reprinted with permission from www. madeinhisimage.org. Victoria Vissat, a recent graduate of the University of Connecticut, is a program manager of Fellowship of Catholic University Students (FOCUS) in Golden. She is a parishioner at Holy Ghost. Guest Column VICTORIA VISSAT What I didn't know when I stopped having sex i INFORMATIONAL MEETING Become a foster family with Catholic Charities 7 p.m. May 20 St. John Paul II Center, 1300 S Steele St, Denver, Room 111 303-742-0823, Ext. 2051 or CGarcia@ccdenver.org

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