Welcoming Displaced Children

Olympia Jetson was a bright young eleven year old girl. However, she and her half-sister Saliel carried some dark secrets. They lived most of their short lives with their mother and step-father in the Manawatu. On December 3, 2001 they were stabbed with a knife while sleeping, by their step-dad, Bruce Howse. Both girls died several hours later, having bled to death.

The investigation into Olympia’s and Saliel’s tragic deaths brought to light years of sexual and physical abuse. However, in spite of several allegations and some investigations through the years (including removal of the girls to their grandparents for fifteen months), Olympia and Saliel continued to live in a climate of fear and uncertainty.

Why did this happen? What allowed “the system” to fail so miserably to protect these two girls from such a castrophy?

The issues related to their deaths are complex and some will be touched on during the course of this article. In one sense the case of Olympia and Saliel is somewhat unique and extreme (though the number of children dying at the hands of their family are increasing). However, in another sense Olympia and Saliel are not the exception. They typify the lives of countless children living in homes of abuse, fear and neglect.

There has always been a need for “safe” homes where children from such families can be “rescued” and given a new start. Our culture rightly recognises that this situation is always less than ideal. The most loving, affirming and growth-producing environment will always be that of a safe biological family. And yet, no family is a completely safe place. We are, after all, broken and dysfunctional people, with a propensity to hurt each other and thereby stunt growth and development. However, there is a point where the consequences of a family’s dysfunction make it too damaging for a child to remain in it.[1] In such situations intervention becomes necessary because the potential good of being displaced outweighs the decreasing value of leaving the child in a destructive home environment.[2]

There is also another group of vulnerable children in our society for whom displacement is seen as necessary for a time, but where there is hope of returning to the biological family, once some issues are resolved.

The focus of this article
I come to this subject with more than just a passing interest in it. My wife Jill and I  fostered a number of children over many years. This included caring in both a fulltime and respite capacity for several children who had to be “rescued” from their biological parents. We heard something of their stories and saw and experienced the result of their pain and dysfunction.

We also observed how incredibly difficult it seems for agencies responsible for such children to find suitable foster homes for them.

In the midst of such need, we grappled with what our response should be – indeed, what the Christian response might look like.

This is the focus of this article. What might it mean for us as the people of God, to respond to the need of displaced children – those who have been taken out of their biological family – either permanently or for some period. What does welcoming such people involve and how does the Christian tradition of hospitality speak to such a need?

First however, a brief examination of the background issues is helpful.

How bad is the problem?
One of the features of vulnerable groups in our society is the tendency for them to be socially invisible.[3] This is certainly true of abused or neglected children, though the awareness of most New Zealanders has grown substantially in the past ten years, due to the wide publicity of such tragedies as Olympia and Saliel.

Nevertheless, many people do their best to ignore the plight of the growing number of children in abusive and neglectful families. Public awareness only rises briefly when the death of child occurs. Even then the outcry almost exclusively revolves around the failings of the “system” to care and protect the child. Still, the large majority of New Zealanders are completely unaware that we have one of the highest rates of abuse in the developed world.[4]

In New Zealand, Child, Youth and Family Service (CYFS) is the government agency charged with the legal responsibility of the care and protection of children under 17 years old.

All evidence points to this agency being under intense pressure. The number of notifications to CYFS increased from 23,246 in 1996/7 to over 43,000 in 2003/4 (and even more in subsequent years).[5] Of those in the 1999/00 year, some form or multiple forms of abuse and/or neglect were substantiated for over a third of these notifications.

In spite of the emphasis on placing children wherever possible within the child’s extended family, the number of children and young people placed in alternative care has been steadily growing.[6] In 1997/98 there were 6,457 placements. By 1999/00 this had grown to 7,577. [7]

The reality is that CYFS has to investigate and monitor growing numbers of potential abusive situations, as well as taking responsibility for finding caring foster homes for the increasing numbers of children who need to be taken out of destructive family environments.[8]

The system is in deep overload, as the conclusions of the Brown Report demonstrate:

Judge Mick Brown, in his 2001 report on Child, Youth and Family, said a list of more than 3000 children waiting to be allocated a social worker was deplorable.[9]

The vicious cycle such overload produces is tragic. Good social workers are overburdened with cases and frequently become burnt out and cynical. Many leave due to the pressures, leaving fewer staff to take on rapidly increasing cases. Hiring new workers hardly deals with the overload as they are generally less experienced and requiring substantial supervision which the Service is unable/unwilling to give.[10]

The pressure this places on finding suitable foster families is immense.

Social workers say it can be extraordinarily difficult to find suitable foster placements for children. Children with mental health issues and behavioural problems are specially hard to place, but finding emergency care for any children can be a nightmare. The social workers interviewed for this article spoke of children spending days sitting in CYF offices, waiting for a suitable placement. One social worker drove a boy around in her car for a day and a half, trying to find someone to look after it (sic). A little boy turned up at a CYF office with five changes of clothes in his suitcase, because he knew he’d probably spend the next five days in five different homes. [11]

It must be added that many of the problems plaguing CYFS are as much internally created as they are externally driven. The Brown Report (along with other recent investigations of the Service) identified some systemic causes for the poor outcomes.

Certainly, our own experience on the placement side of things (and further anecdotal “evidence” from other foster parents) is that one of the reasons why CYPS have trouble placing children is the disempowering way their social workers often relate to foster families. Rather than including foster parents as a critical part of the “team” seeking to care and protect displaced children, they instead often just feel “used”.

Families willing to welcome these children are a convenient dumping ground. The concept of these families having a worthwhile contribution to make regarding the medium and long term care of their foster children does not seem to be part of the CYFS philosophy. Apart from the potentially disastrous consequences for the children concerned of ignoring the perspectives of their caregivers, this approach also demoralises foster parents when they see their contribution being ignored or, in some cases, eroded away by poor and uninformed decisions on the part of the social worker.[12]

Nevertheless, there is little doubt that the numbers of abused and displaced children are growing. The agency primarily responsible for ensuring these children are cared for and protected is overwhelmed and unable to cope. In addition, willing and available foster families are also in scarce supply.

The life of a displaced child
Considering the macro view on displaced children can easily lead us to forget that these statistics are more than just numbers, or “clients in a system”. They are precious lives, created in God’s image, made for love and for loving.

What is like to be a displaced child? For those of us who have experienced a healthy and happy childhood, it is almost impossible to imagine.

Each child’s experience is different, but for most the displacement brings a deep sense of insecurity, bewilderment, anger and powerlessness.

Jo Ann Wentzel, writing to foster parents, states:

Before they reached your home, they were taken out of theirs. Most times, they were not given a choice if they wanted to stay or not, just told they must go. They are going to live with strangers…These kids lost all control of what happens to them. They may have very little say in what they do or don’t do. Suddenly everyone is making decisions for them.[13]

When we remember that this experience is laid over the existing trauma of their biological family experience, it is easy to see why these children are so vulnerable. In spite of all the destructive results of living in an abusive family there is still an overwhelming desire for love and acceptance from their own parent(s).

This often leads to self-blame – a deep sense of guilt and/or confusion as to the reasons for their displacement. This is, for example, a feature of the way Dave Pelzer reflects on his own time in foster families. In spite of the most horrendous physical and emotional abuse, he carried for years the belief he was really the one to blame for what happened to him.[14]

It is hardly surprising that given what many of these children experience in their early years, their development and growth is generally stunted – socially, mentally, physically and emotionally. Some consequences cannot be reversed, in spite of the most tender and loving nurture.

These experiences and emotions often make foster children very challenging to parent. While there is a great need for them to experience being part of a stable, loving and relatively functional family, their pain, confusion and dysfunction make it a difficult and often thankless task.

Developing a Biblical framework for response
What should be our response as Christians? In order to answer this question, it’s helpful to consider the biblical and historical background to the status and care of such children.

Old Testament
The starting point is that of the orphan and the fatherless in Jewish society and law. For it is this group that bears closest resemblance to the displaced child of our society.

So who was the orphan and the fatherless? D.E. Holwerda and R.K. Harrison argue that an “orphan” was not necessarily a child who had lost both parents, but generally the child of a “widow”.[15] Because of this “…the translation ‘orphan’ instead of ‘fatherless’ is arbitrary…the connotations of ‘orphan’ are the same as those of ‘fatherless’.” [16]

The law of Moses showed special concern for the fatherless, along with the widow and the alien.[17] This is not surprising given that all these groups were clearly the most obviously helpless, defensiveless and vulnerable in such an agrarian-based society.[18]

God is shown to be fiercely protective of such people and is even viewed by the Psalmist as “a father to the fatherless”[19] Under the Law provision was made for them to glean some of the harvest from fields and vineyards[20] and they also were to share in the special tithe, along with the Levites.[21]

The Prophets continue the expectation that caring for these ones is exceptionally important to God. In fact, it is clear that the way Israel treats the alien (stranger or foreigner), widow and orphan is a strong indicator of how just (righteous) they are as a nation. For example, Zechariah states:

Thus says the Lord of hosts: Render true judgements, show kindness and mercy to one another; do not oppress the widow, the orphan, the alien, or the poor…[22]

Donald Gowan remarks that this statement by Zechariah is more than just a brief summary of the social message of the prophets. “It is the Old Testament’s typical description of the nature of a healthy community.” [23] In fact, judgement, both individual and corporate, is related to how well these vulnerable groups have fared in society.

New Testament
If the Old Testament views displaced children as ones whom God’s people have a responsibility to care for, what does the New Testament contribute to our understanding of responding to such “orphans”? There is a great deal of continuity as we consider the life and teachings of Jesus and the early church.

The New Testament only contains one literal reference to orphans.[24] It comes through James’ teaching, where he sums up “religion that is pure and undefiled” as being “…to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.”[25] This is typically strong language from James whose concept of faith was clearly rooted in practical outworkings. Ralph Martin notes that, “…readers cannot escape the summons to do what lies in their power: to come to the aid of defenceless members of society and reach out actively on their behalf.” [26]

However, in spite of this being the only direct reference, there is much that challenges us implicitly to welcome and care for displaced children – particularly when viewed as being part of the groups Jesus referred to as “poor”, “strangers” and “the least among you”.

The displaced child as “poor”
Jesus had much to say about the “poor”. Indeed he viewed his mission as being one of bringing “good news to the poor”.[27]

Some of the key features of displaced children are their powerlessness, vulnerability and helplessness – all characteristics of what it means to be “poor”.

As Donald Gowan notes, orphans are poor because they “..are a people unable to help themselves because of their physical condition.” [28]

Consider then, for example, Jesus’ statement:

…when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed because they cannot repay you… [29]

Here then, is an instruction to welcome in and extend hospitality to those who are on the margins of society and who have no capacity to reciprocate.[30]

The displaced child as “stranger”

It is perhaps obvious that displaced children are strangers. But in what way can we describe them this way? Walter Brueggemann comments that strangers are “people without a place”.[31] They are disorientated, finding themselves in totally alien surrounds – knowing no one, not being familiar with the way things are done and having no prior history. This is an intensely vulnerable state.

With this in mind, let us consider the words of Jesus, recorded in Matthew 25, where he describes the Judgement of the Nations:

..for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger (homeless) and you welcomed me (gave me a room), I was naked (shivering) and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me…Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me. [32]

Not only does Jesus indicate that how we are judged will be connected with how we respond to those in need, but his words compel us to take a quite radical view regarding who we are in fact caring for. To welcome the stranger (the displaced child?) is to welcome Christ himself. We are to see Jesus in every guest. To care for the stranger is to care for the Master. This has wide-ranging implications. As Christine Pohl notes:

The possibility that it is Christ coming to us in ‘the stranger’s guise’ powerfully intensifies and broadens concerns about care and respect for those most likely to be overlooked.[33]

This passage is at the heart and centre of the Christian tradition of hospitality. In fact, the most common Greek word used for hospitality, philoxenia, literally means “love for the stranger”. Viewing the stranger in this way is reinforced by the admonition of the writer of Hebrews:

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. [34]

Seeing the stranger (displaced child) as Jesus or a possible angel, lends powerful moral imperative to the New Testament call to care for those most vulnerable.

The displaced child as “the least among you”
In Luke 9:48 Jesus says “Whoever welcomes this child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me; for the least among all of you is the greatest.” [35]

These words carry an air of familiarity – being similar to those of Matthew 25. However, the incident that sparks this statement by Jesus is a status and power tussle between the disciples. To deal with the issue, Jesus picks up a child beside him and makes his point. Everyone, including the seemingly insignificant and unvalued child is important in God’s kingdom.[36] This is in marked contrast to the values of the surrounding Jewish culture, where children were loved, but had no real status or value. Craig Evans notes that:

Jesus summarizes the essence of Christian fellowship in v.48…To welcome the insignificant is to welcome Jesus himself. This idea is part of Jesus’ unusual and unexpected criteria of evaluation… [37]

While it is clear that Jesus is not speaking specifically here about displaced children, the force of Jesus’ statement is particularly poignant when we read it with them in mind: “Whoever welcomes this child (the least among you) welcomes me.”

Responding to displaced children in our society
We can see from Scripture that there is a clear moral imperative to extend hospitality to those who are most vulnerable in our society.  So how should this impact on our response to the plight of displaced children in New Zealand?

The Christian home provides a unique environment for hospitality to displaced children. The generally accepted word for caring for children who are not biologically connected with the family is “fostering”. It’s a word that is filled with the richness of loving and caring for children. To “foster” is to tend affectionately, nourish, cherish, keep warm, promote the growth and development of, encourage and be favourable to.

These words sum up much of what parenting is essentially about! In a sense, the call of parenting is to “foster” our children – to nurture them and create the environment in which they can grow. “Fostering” displaced children is just an extension of that. The differences may be fewer than we think.[38]

For as Henri Nouwen suggests, our own children are only ever “guests” (which is what fostered children are too). They “…enter into our home, ask for careful attention, stay for a while and then leave to follow their own way. Children are strangers whom we have to get to know.” [39] Nouwen notes that parents have to learn to be hospitable and love their children. So too with foster children.

The awareness that children (both biological and foster) are really “guests” helps parents to see that welcoming them is only for a season. Nouwen writes that:

A good host is not only able to receive his guests with honor and offer them all the care they need but also to let them go when their time to leave has come.[40]

Letting go of foster children can often be as hard as allowing our own to leave.[41] But it must be done, as neither child is “our own”. They are guests, even gifts, loaned to us for some time to nurture and foster.

Three key challenges for welcoming displaced children into our homes
On a more individual family level, there are some significant challenges we need to consider and overcome in order to foster effectively. They include:

1. The Privacy of our Homes
Christian hospitality has always had a strong connection with the home.[42] However, one of the problems with our Christian lives today is that our homes have become so separated from public spaces that they are viewed as castles – private kingdoms.

As Christine Pohl remarks, “It is a cherished retreat from the world into which one admits few strangers.”[43]

There are several challenges resulting from this situation.

One is the reality that many homes are now empty for significant parts of the week, that there is little “home” to welcome children into. All the adults are in paid employment – very often all fulltime. In other cases, the house is simply a “Bed and Breakfast” where individual family members recover from their frantic lifestyle.

Building a “home” takes time and a great deal of effort. Unless this is a conscious and deliberate plan by the adults in the house, there will be no room for the displaced child.

A second issue is the risk that is associated with inviting strangers into our own private homes – the risk of damage to both our valued possessions and to ourselves.

Christine Pohl says it well regarding the former risk:

It is difficult to welcome guests into our lives if we are not willing to risk loss and damage to items we value. Continual efforts to protect and preserve our possessions stifle hospitality. Some things will be broken, other things will disappear or wear out when our lives are open to guests and strangers.

We also risk physical assault, and increasingly – particularly for male caregivers – the risk of being accused of some form of abuse – particularly sexual.[44]

Of course, there are procedures and routines we can put in place that minimise all of these risks, but welcoming often troubled and disturbed children requires an acceptance of the risks.

This is no different really to the welcoming of any stranger. Miroslav Volf, using the imagery of embracing, notes:

I open my arms, make a movement of the self toward the other…and do not know whether I will be misunderstood, despised, even violated or whether my action will be appreciated, supported, and reciprocated.[45]

However, as Lewis Smedes comments “grace is gamble, always”.[46]

2. The tension of care for own children and that of the foster child
For those parents who have dependent children of their own, fostering others can create an ongoing tension where the priority of caring for the needs of their own children seems often to be in opposition to the care of the foster child. It is natural to feel compelled to include them in all of family life but often this comes at the cost of investing sufficiently in the needs of their own children.

Certainly, finding the balance is critical if one’s own children are not going to grow up resentful at being neglected.

Edith Schaeffer, who with her husband Francis, was responsible for the establishment of the L’Abri communities, has some very helpful things to say about this issue. She writes:

A family is a door that has hinges and a lock. The hinges should be well-oiled to swing the door open during certain times, but the lock should be firm enough to let people know that the family needs to be alone part of the time, just to be a family. If a family is to be shared, then there needs to be something to share.[47]

In other words, if you have no door, you have no family.

Christine Pohl also recognises the tensions – “…hospitable families must face the challenge of balancing their commitment to welcome with their responsibility both to preserve the marital bond and to care for their own children.” [48]

The reality is that to embrace and welcome a child does not mean there should be no boundaries. Miroslav Volf’s insights are helpful here. He argues that including (embracing) others does not mean “…the absence of all boundaries…(where) we are unable to name what is excluded or why it ought not to be excluded.” [49] To deal with this Volf uses the term “differentiation”.[50] He states:

We are who we are not because we are separate from the others who are next to us, but because we are both separate and connected, both distinct and related; the boundaries that mark our identities are both barriers and bridges.[51]

Differentiation must be able to be made in a fostering family. And for the sake of one’s own children’s development, as they grow ways must be found to involve them in the decision-making process and the giving of hospitality. For:

Children learn hospitality from parents who have room in their lives for their family as well as for their guests. Children will resent hospitality if it is not broad enough to include them, but they will grow into hospitality as they share in its life-giving environment. [52]

3. The Limitations of our Resources
Like so many things, the size of the need can easily overwhelm us. And for those families who respond by opening their homes to welcome such children, the pressure will often exist to take in “just another child”. However, unless families recognise that there are limits to their capacity to give such hospitality, the inevitable strains and stresses may simply become too much. Knowing when to say no is as important as knowing when to say yes.

Furthermore, sometimes, “…the work (of hospitality) is too much, too hard, too continual to be handled by an individual or even an individual family.”[53] This is where the option of “team sharing” may be a creative option for some – particularly if it is able to be achieved within walking distance (thus retaining the child in the same community) and have some regularity to it (giving the child a sense of stability).[54]

Conclusion

Recovering hospitality will involve reclaiming the household as a key site for ministry and then reconnecting the household and the church, so that the two institutions can work in partnership for the sake of the world.[55]

Fostering is one manageable way of bridging the gap between strangers, the church and ourselves.

There is no guaranteed outcome in caring for displaced children. The risks and challenges are great.

However, as Christians we have a moral imperative. For welcoming such children is loving Christ Himself.

This hospitality also has the potential to change both us and the child for good – to make a real difference.  For “…a genuine embrace cannot leave both or either completely unchanged.” [56]

Dave Pelzer, abused and dehumanized by his birth mother for several years until “rescued” and placed in foster care, has this to say about his experiences:

As for my foster parents, they made me the person I am today. They took in a heap of hideous mass and transformed a terrified child into a functional, responsible human being. I owe each of them so much….They saved me from almost certain doom.[57]

These are words of hope and encouragement. So too, the words of Jesus:

“Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these…you did it to me.”

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Atkinson, David J. and Field, David H. (Editors). New Dictionary of Christian Ethics and Pastoral Theology (Downers Grove: IVP, 1995).

Banks, Robert and Stevens, R. Paul. (Editors). The Complete Book of Everyday Christianity (Downers Grove: IVP, 1997).

Bromiley, Geoffery W. (Editor). The International Standard Bible Encyclopedia Volume Three (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986).

Care and Protection Blueprint 2003 (Wellington: Ministry of Social Development, February 2003).

Evans, Craig A.  Luke NIBC (Peabody: Hendrickson, 1990).

Gowan, Donald E. “Wealth and Poverty in the Old Testament: The Case of the Widow, the Orphan, and the Sojourner” in Interpretation (41: 341-353 O. 1987).

Hallie, Philip. Lest Innocent Blood Be Shed: The Story of the Village of Le Chambon and How Goodness Happened There (New York: Harper & Row, 1979,1994).

Latourette, Kenneth Scott. A History of Christianity Volume 1 (New York: Harper & Row, 1975).

Martin, Ralph P. James Word Biblical Commentary 48 (Waco: Word, 1988).

Nouwen, Henri J.M. Reaching Out: The Three Movements of the Spiritual Life (New York: Image Books, 1975, 1986).

Open Home Foundation Foster Parent Manual (Wellington, 2003).

Pelzer, David J. A Child Called It (Deerfield Beach: Health Communications, 1995.)

____________. The Lost Boy: a foster child’s search for love and family (London: Orion, 2000).

____________. A Man Named Dave: a story of triumph and forgiveness (London: Orion, 1999).

Pohl, Christine D. Making Room: Recovering Hospitality as a Christian Tradition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999).

Schaeffer, Edith. What is a Family? (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1994).

Statistical Report for the Department of Child, Youth and Family Services, 2000

Volf, Miroslav. Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon, 1996).

Wentzel, Jo Ann. Reasonable Expectations of Foster Kids (www.westworld.com/~barbara/jaw1)

Articles:
Bell, Leanne. “Stabbed girls ‘failed’ by system”, The Dominion Post, Thursday November 15, 2003, page B7.

Boniface, Linley. “Buckling on the Front Line”, The Dominion Post, Tuesday 4 November, 2003, A1.

Claridge, Anna “$7000 inducement to work for CYFS”, The Dominion Post, Thursday July 15, 2004, page A3.

Haines, Leah, “Failing our Children”, The Dominion Post, Saturday November 1, 2003, E3-4

__________, “Where to from here?”, The Dominion Post, Wednesday November 5, 2003.

__________ and Bell, Leanne. “Lives of Sorrow”, The Dominion Post, Thursday November 13, 2003, page A1.

Larson, Virginia. “Some Mothers Don’t Have It”, North & South pages 30-39.

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