Resident Stories

Resident Stories

As Caregivers walk together in the way with CVE children, there are lots of opportunities to show what it means to live out the gospel.

Note: children's names have been changed for their safety and privacy

Juan

One of my kids recently learned the beauty of reconciliation and taking responsibility. He had been disobedient and had his Legos taken away as a consequence. After giving him some time to calm down in his room, I went back in to talk through his behavior and the consequence. When I entered, he began picking up a few stray Legos off the floor that I had missed. My blood pressure began to rise as I imagined what I expected him to say based off of past experiences. I anticipated him saying in a disrespectful tone, “Ha ha, look, I still have some!” Instead, he turned to me and gave me the Legos and said, “These don’t belong to me right now.” He was taking initiative for reconciliation, something he had not done much of at all before. In amazement, I responded, “Wow, Juan, you are taking some responsibility and accepting your consequence.” Right after I said that, he melted into my arms and started balling. I asked him, “Why are you crying? How do you feel?” Juan responded, “I feel happy.” In that moment, Juan learned the beauty of reconciliation.

Eva

One day, we were rearranging some furniture in the house. This can really throw some of the kids off as any transition or change, even of the simplest kind, can be hard for them to deal with. One of our girls, seven-year-old Eva, became very dysregulated due to the change. In order to cope with it, she went into her room and began singing a made-up song. At first, we (the caregivers) chuckled a little bit at her creativity and response to the moving of the furniture. After a while, however, I noticed a repetitive line that she was singing as part of her invented song: “My heart is a piece of trash.” 

I went into her room and told her, “Eva, let’s not sing about lies in this house.” She responded, “But that’s how I feel.” 

“You feel like your heart is a piece of trash?” 

“Yeah.”

“Well come over here and let me smell it and see if it smells like trash,” I replied.

After smelling it, I said, “Nope, doesn’t smell like trash. Has somebody made you feel like that?”

Eva replied, “Yeah, my grandma and my mom.”

After hearing this response, I asked her, “So…you are feeling abandoned?”

She answered me in the affirmative. As I heard this, God brought the following Scripture to mind and I shared it with Eva:

“For my father and my mother have forsaken me, but the LORD will take me in.” Psalm 27:10

The moment I shared that truth with Eva, she understood it. No explanation was needed. She choked up as she thought on the truth presented in that verse. 

I went on: “Eva, satan is going to continue to remind you that you are abandoned. The thing is we will fail you some day in some way too.”

Eva balked at this, “Oh, but not you guys…”

I cut her off, “No, even us, we will want to be there for you some day and maybe we won’t be able to. You can’t rely on us to always be there either, but this is your promise: you will always have the Lord to pick you up. So, whenever satan comes and says that you are abandoned and a piece of trash, this psalm is a sword that you are going to use against him.” 

Eva eagerly questioned me, “It’s a sword?!”

“Yeah, it’s a two-edged sword actually. Those are really sharp!”

Eva excitedly thrust an imaginary sword in front of her while shouting, “Hi-yah!!”

Now, Eva has the verse written on her wall with a picture of a little sword on it. Eva is continuing to learn how to respond to lies with the promises of Scripture and hold to her Father who will always take her in.

Isabella

Isabella was a very hardened girl; the walls she had built around her heart were seemingly impenetrable. She hid any sign of attachment from me for the first four years I took care of her. Day after day, I was trying to love her, support her, and be there for her. It seemed as if it meant nothing to her. Four years of intentional, personal care and it still appeared as if her ability to attach to anyone was nonexistent.  

It was at this four year mark that God opened up a small window into her heart and broke through some of the wall she had painstakingly built up. Someone was transitioning out of CVE, and Isabella and I took a walk over to the person’s house in order to give them a hug and say goodbye. After telling this person goodbye, Isabella broke down and began to weep and wail. Caught off guard at this, I asked, “What’s wrong?” In a show of vulnerability and caring I had never seen in the four years prior, Isabella voiced through her tears: “I am just so scared you guys are going to go too.” No matter how strong her walls were and how much she sought to cover it up, she cared whether there were people in her life who loved her and sought her out. 
 
This goes to show the beauty of steadfast love, no matter whether that love is visibly returned or not. Jesus was the ultimate example of this love. We, as His followers, ought to be visible representatives of that love to those we serve and care for. That patient and sincere love can, by the grace of God, break through a seemingly unshakeable fortress.
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