A Sneak Peak into "Finding Friday" the book............

This is not my traditional blog, but a "look" into my book "Finding Friday" which is very soon to be available.  If you like what you read, and want to read more, please consider contributing to my crowd fund raiser "Finding Friday" on Idiegogo.  Here is the link.  Thank you to everyone who has contributed and made this book a reality.





PREFACE


All of my life I had searched, and still do to some extent, for
something that is out of reach and challenging. Something that
would make me go the extra mile. I always thought much more
selfishly than the outcome that I now live every day—a mother
to fourteen children, ten grandchildren, five dogs, nine goats,
and a small farm. My dreams led me to fame, perhaps fortune,
although somehow in the midst of that, I always just wanted to
reach the very souls of people. I have always wanted to convey a
message; it was just what the message was that was unclear until
now.

Passion, of course, is the driving factor. It is in the needy
children and also in the ambitious. Passion is not just of the heart,
it is put in motion by the mind. It is a doing word, something
that takes root in your heart and propels that desire to become
an action. If we don’t take action, passion dies. It withers away
and becomes bitterness. This happens with children who at a
very early age are abandoned, both physically and emotionally,
and who find the only person who has enough passion to fight
for their life is themselves.

I believe that results in what I call “survival disorder” and
the text books call “attachment or reactive attachment disorder”,
commonly known as RAD or AD. Mostly we associate non-
attachment with reaction which results in the child or adult
being angry, violent, or impatient with younger children and
animals, while being charming to all that are not involved in the


14 | FINDING FRIDAY

role of authority, caretaker or parent, particularly the mother
figure.

I was a very inexperienced foster parent when I first was
exposed to “survival” disorder. I really prefer to call it that
because in every instance I have known, the child was trying to
survive because of the lack of parental care, or interest. In other
words, Mum and Dad, were not doing their job. Now, I do
know and acknowledge that there are documented cases where
attachment disorder or “survival” can kick in when a child is left
in a hospital for a very valid reason when they are very young.
Perhaps the parents are not able to be at their capacity that is
normal for a young child, or one or the other parent is ill and
cannot attend to the infant as they would like to be able to. There
are also many other factors that can influence this disorder that
bring the personality and intellect of the child into question.
There are instances of this disorder when fault cannot be found
and it happens anyway. That is why children in the foster or
adoptive care system should not be moved any more than they
have to. Attachment is important to the point of survival.

Most RAD or AD these days is attributed to the mother,
in particular, being addicted either to drugs, alcohol, or both.
This leaves the child defenseless in the midst of the chaos of
the parent’s lifestyle. Often left without food, or comforting,
they wait until Mom is awake and sober, or not high, so
that their needs can be attended to. The mother figure ends
up being their enemy by default. Even when placed within
the foster home, albeit a loving and caring one, the fight for
survival begins. There is no established trust with any mother,
and the child will push every boundary. Even with the most
patient parent, life becomes almost intolerable. They use every
method of control they can—food, silence, tantrums, bodily
functions, destruction of anything they can get their hands on,
lighting fires, destruction of property, unexplained anger, and
revenge, particularly on smaller children and animals. There
are few counselors or psychologists who specialize in this. The
growing numbers of these children are alarming. They are found
everywhere, all around the world, as well as here in the USA.

In my foster parent years, I experienced several of these


KATE THoMPSoN | 15

children, mostly under the age of four, and found that love
was not enough, and having small animals and babies was not
a good combination. After the first child, who I desperately
wanted to keep, but knew in my heart she needed a different
home, one where she could be the center of attention. I learned
that once recognized, a child with this “survival” instinct needed
a very special home, with few other distractions involved, so
behavior could at least be modified over time. Until Friday, or
Noah as he is commonly known, came, I had never experienced
a teenager with such strong “survival” instincts that he fell into
this category. It took me several months to realize he did indeed
have “survival” disorder. I knew instantly this would be the
greatest challenge in my life, if I survived it.

My knowledge of Noah had been limited to visits with his
adoptive family a couple of times a year. I had never noticed
anything out of the ordinary, but when I was advised he was
being sent back to Africa, an action that was illegal on every
score, I knew our family would get involved. After an initial
family meeting, we all felt that we were maxed out with eight
special needs kids, and Noah’s older sister, who we had established
very quickly had no education. As sweet as she was, as well as
being helpful, I knew Noah was also not educated. That fact in
itself was probably the deciding moment to intervene by calling
Children’s Services, over trying to get his parents to send him to
us. Later, I realized there was no way they would have ever sent
him to us, even if we were willing.

It was the beginning of a journey that I didn’t choose, but
knew that if our family did not step up to, Noah was doomed
to a life in the interior of Liberia, Rivercess. If he was lucky,
he might survive until he was thirty-five, the average life span
in a people with no hope, no education, no infrastructure left,
not enough for even World Vision or another such organization
could go in and help. Only small missionaries with a vision or a
calling to help these needy, desperate people were there. I found
out, not long into the journey, that the church I attend supports
missionaries there, but these churches are few and far between.

I found not only did he have full blown “survival” disorder,
but he was damaged emotionally, maybe beyond repair, severely


16 | FINDING FRIDAY

delayed in education although he was very smart, and tested
intellectually very well. He had no immunizations for school,
a very small vocabulary, no understanding of most things that
we spoke about every day, and absolutely no experience in what
a “mother” or a “father” was. He was definitely angry, silent,
greedy for food to the extent that he would often eat three and
four servings regardless of whether someone had not eaten,
aggressive physically, with both humans and more so animals,
and defiant and unresponsive to correction. My husband and I
knew by now that he had been physically, mentally, and sexually
abused on different levels, but hoped because his older sister
was in the family, that he would at the very least respond to her.

To understand better, you have to realize that both these
children had not been exposed to an American accent, like
kids who go to school every day, even though they had been
in America for four plus years. Their heavy African accents
were hard to understand, throwing a whole other complicated
dimension into the picture. Often I would be trying to explain or
correct a behavior and why it was not acceptable, and find they
didn’t understand more than two or three of the words I had to
say in a sentence. This was confusing, baffling to me, because I
could not understand why someone would adopt children from
overseas, bring them into a new way of life, and not educate
them at least to their surroundings they were now living in.
Then on top of the vocabulary barrier, there was the abuse and
the defensive wall that surrounded him, almost impenetrable, to
try to prove that he was safe here, and we would not abandon,
beat, or abuse him.

Those who have never been involved or even been on the
edge of fostering or adoption of older children do not know that
these kids do not walk through your door and say, “Wow, this
is great. I really love it here, I’m so glad you brought me into
your home.” That is so far from the truth, it is almost the direct
opposite. Noah was no exception. I knew he liked the idea of
being in our home and part of our family, but the actuality
was distressing and uncomfortable for him. He liked the food,
but hated the supervision, the accountability, having to share,
and also the closeness. He hated the inability to hide, keep to


KATE THoMPSoN | 17

himself without another kid or adult, or even his sister asking
questions about his experiences, trying to find how any of us
could help. All of this should have told me he was a “survivor,”
and yet, my experience of this was with very young children,
never with a teenager.

I might add that these children do not appear very lovable,
and yet what they crave the most in their damaged, hidden
hearts, is unconditional love, without any response from them
at all. A hard task for anyone, even when you know what to
expect, because somewhere inside all of us we require praise,
love, acceptance, encouragement, and freedom to be who we
are. All of these things have never been experienced by these
children, these “survivors”, so they are not capable of giving
anything back at all, at least until you prove yourself worthy of
something from them. That may be the tiniest tidbit every six
months if you are lucky. The path is narrow, and strewn with cut
glass, which makes everyone bleed and wonder if they can walk
another step of this journey.

At the time of the writing of this book, because I feel this
story must be told, Noah has begun, and I do mean begun, to
give just a little of himself back, and to respond in a healthier
emotional manner. How long before he is free, free from all
baggage that has been heaped upon his back, beginning with the
death of his mother, then the rejection from his stepmother, to
abandonment from his African father, when he was left in the
orphanage around the age of five? There he experienced the first
sexual and physical abuse, moved happily to adoption, and was
subjected to more of the same abuses, just in different forms,
then rejection and abandonment again. That finally resulted
in him being left alone in Liberia, unable to speak his native
language, in circumstances where he was once again starved
not only from food, but intimacy within a family, who loves
unconditionally to the point where a little boy can feel safe.

We have only begun this journey with Friday, a name that,
“Noah” hates, but one day will see as truly the name he was not
only born with, but owns, along with all the experiences, bad and
good, that came with it. More than once I have almost given up
hope to the point of thinking he had to be removed to another


18 | FINDING FRIDAY

family, or group home. My child psychiatrist has told me on
more than one occasion that if the physical fighting continued,
he would remove him. Yet, somewhere in my soul, mind, or
heart, I know that all of the training I have gone through, along
with all the foster children and their problems that have passed
through our home, and the enormous difficulties our adopted
children had faced and overcome, was the path that led to Noah,
“Friday,” and his wholeness.

I am still to experience his full recovery, but at this moment
in time, have very strong feelings, which is a first I have to
admit, that Friday will become a trusting, vulnerable person
again. One able to love and integrate into our large, impossible,
loving family, that was not chosen by us, but by God. It did
not happen by birth physically, but spiritually, in obedience
to a plan that God asked of us. I can testify without a doubt,
that if I had my “druthers,” I would not have chosen this large,
sometimes overwhelming family, but, I am grateful for each and
every one of them, because I could not imagine living without
one of God’s chosen.