I Love . . . Sam

Before David and I were ever married, we each had dreams in which we saw our future family. Now, you may or may not believe such a thing is possible, but when we compared notes and discovered they were exactly the same, we became convinced that the dream in fact represented the children that would come to us. 

There were five of them. A boy first, separated somehow. By his age certainly, because he seemed to be about five years older than the rest of the children; but also by something else that we couldn't identify. He was beautiful and charming. A wonderful boy.

Then there were two boys, very close in age.

Then a girl and then, another girl who we've kind of always referred to as an 'optional' girl. We felt perhaps we might adopt her or something, somehow, she was a choice.

We had intended to wait to have our children, but when the prompting came to begin, we began in earnest. What followed was a heart wrenching five years during which we miscarried four times.

And then one day on a long drive, we felt it. A strong and unmistakable impression that the son we had been waiting for had been born.

So we began our search for our boy.

Finally, nearly four years later, we found him.

Sam.

He was three and a half years old and had been living in foster care his whole life. He was absolutely and unmistakably our son and we felt so blessed.

Sam came to live with us and a year later our adoption was final and we were sealed in the temple. Now we would be together, a family, forever.

Sam was not in real life, as we had felt he would be.

He was beautiful and charming, to be sure. But he was also broken, bruised and forever changed on the inside. 

We couldn't save him.

We had all the love in the world for this boy and yet, it was not enough.

When Sam did something that we couldn't protect him from; when the State stepped in and forced our hand to make a choice, we chose. Many people believe we made the wrong choice. Perhaps we did.

But I can tell you that the choice we made was out of love for Sam. We love him. I love him. I wanted him to have the chance to grow up in a family, with a mother who could love him, who had experience raising up boys with similar problems as Sam. My other option was to place him in a nearby institution where he would be raised with other boys like himself and with

 medications to subdue his more violent tendencies.

We chose a family for him. But in doing so, we have lost him forever. He lives somewhere else now, far from us. We never see him, nor speak to him. It's been five years. He has another family now, a mother who loves him, brothers and sisters who 'get' him and, I hope, love him.

Beside my bed I keep a little box--a Chinese dream box. You are supposed to write down your dreams, put them in them in the box and they will come true. 

When Sam was a little boy he found a rock in the shape of a heart. He gave it to me. It is that rock that I keep in my dream box.

My hope is that one day, Sam's heart will soften and will no longer be made of stone.

There is not a day that goes by that I don't feel love for Sam. He is, and forever will be, my boy. And I love him.

Happy Birthday Sam!

Today is Sam's thirteenth birthday; he is a young man now, poised on the brink of his life. I haven't seen him in three and a half years and my heart aches to see the young man he has become.

I'm writing this here, because there is no guarantee, despite his foster mom's wonderful care and concern for him, that he'll ever read the letters we send to him there. At least here, should he ever google us, he might find my notes to him here and know that he was/is/and ever will be loved.

Sam had the most amazing spirit of anyone I've known. He had a core of goodness in him and you knew his great gift from God was his ability to love and to truly care about other people. And so it's not a big surprise that it was exactly those virtues that Satan strove to turn into his greatest vice.

But I don't want to dwell on the negative, I want to celebrate my boy, my first boy, my cherished and loved one.

Sam was a true gift from God to David and I. A real miracle. We felt it, the moment he was born ... we'd thought maybe he'd be born to us, for we'd seen him in dreams for years, but we knew when his time was coming and when he was born we both just knew. We started looking for him immediately. It took us three and a half years and a change of cities to find him, but when we did, again, we knew; this was OUR boy.

Even though he has not been able to live with us these past few years, and he has not wanted to talk to us in so long, we love him still. We hear he is growing into a capable young man, giving and receiving love for the first time in his short life. He plays the guitar and I wish I could listen to some Stan Rogers with him and have a mother/son bonding moment.

I want to throw my arms around him and hug him tight. I want to look into his blue, blue eyes and see my love reflecting back at me. I want to hear him play the guitar and sing along. I guess I just really want my son back. I want him to know how much I love and miss him.

One day, if he ever reads this, if he ever questions or wonders why, I hope he understands what the answer to all of his questions has always been; because I love him.

Sam

Sam was a beautiful boy who came to us when he was 3.5 years old.

By eleven months he'd already been seriously abused and neglected. He went to a "good" foster home, where he received numerous injuries including a few head injuries that required stitches. At 3.5 he sat on the toilet in my home, with an erection, while he slapped and screamed and cried "Bad penis!". Poor baby, there was no history of sexual abuse; the social worker said his foster home was "great".

We spent a fortune on treatments and therapy for Sam over the next five years. When our twins were born (IVF babies) we saw a change come over Sam. Not the change we expected - for we thought he might act out against them and resent them. We saw his heart melt, the sun shine in his eyes again. He would sit for ages with a small finger outstretched while a tiny fist gripped it. He would declare "they love me!" because he was the only one who could calm them when they cried. And they did. We all did.

But the love was maybe too little too late because when Sam started school we lost him to the anger and fear that reigned within his young heart. Three years later his violence was directed toward his younger brothers, who still idolized him, and his crimes against them were unforgiveable. Sam had to leave.

No parent cherishes the decision to say goodbye to their child, whether young or old, whether adopted or otherwise. We loved Sam, claimed him as our own, named him our own. But to protect him from the pain that was caused every time he hurt another, and to protect the younger ones from being hurt any more, he had to go.

We found a remarkable family for Sam who had experience raising difficult children, who could pull him into themselves and count him among their own. Sam has been with this family for almost three years now. His body hasn't grown a whole lot since then, but his heart has.

While I have a small stone heart hiding in a prayer box on my nightstand - my own intimate prayer that his heart of stone might one day be healed and can be released from that box a living thing, a beautiful, joyful thing - Sam's heart is stirring within his body and finally finding room within it for perhaps one or two other things. Maybe not people yet, but things. He loves a dog now, I'm told. Can care for his pet with love and concern where once he sought to kill such things. He can be trusted to keep himself and other safe, now. What a joy!

Sam is still young and still has a long way to go. But he is on the path that will take him there. He's picked himself up out of the dust, he's learning to hold his stoney heart out to others to see if they can crack the hard shell and find the joy within. I think they're making some progress, all of them together.

As for us, we are healing. We all remember Sam, but can remember him now with love and tenderness, with no more fear of the bad that was done, no more need to remember it. We all still love him, and can love him now with a pure love because there is no more hurt. We pray for Sam, we remember him - the shining boy.

The Stone Heart ~ a poem for Sam

Once there was a boy
of shining eyes and hair like the golden sun.
A treasure, a gift
he came endowed as one who has joy to bring.

But he was cut down
forced down, hewn down, down, down, down to the ground.

He couldn't look up
he could look down, and named himself there.

His eyes not shining, dead as a bone,
His heart not joyful, his heart turned to stone.

Then came on to lift him,
raise him high in the sky full of light.
A treasture, a gift
love came to renew the joyful spirit.

But it cut him down
forced down to the stoney heart within

He couldn't rise up
he could only lay low, low down, down on the ground.

And there his dead eyes found himself in the dust,
And with joy he raised it high ...
a heart made of stone his only reply.