Sweet Sixteen by Jan Walgomott

Adopting a sibling group of
six had seemed like a good idea in theory, but in reality, it seemed to be
pushing the Walgamott family beyond their breaking point.

One of my sons had
come into my room, distraught. “Mom, why do you let them treat you this way?”
My children, ages nine, seven, two and one, had been willing to share their
life with the six siblings that my husband Russell and I were planning on
adopting. They had never complained about the upheaval in family life until
now. But seeing Russell and me treated with disrespect was hurting them.

“These children have
not known the love and security you’ve had all your life,” I explained. “We
need to embrace them for who they are. They are children of God and He loves
them just as He loves us.” It was not a matter of “letting” them be
disrespectful because we were doing everything we could to try and get
behaviors under control. “Things will get better,” I promised my son.

Later that evening, I lay
on my bed and a flood of tears poured out. I had been so sure that God
wanted us to adopt this group of siblings. But now, after two months, it
seemed that Russell and our original five children and I were trapped in a
nightmare. Screaming, tantrums, fire setting, urinating on furniture, breaking
things, violence…how much more could we endure?

I did not know how much
more I had to give. During the entire year I had worked hard to get those
kids out of the foster care system in California, there had been no doubt in my
mind that they were ours. As I reflected on the long and determined
fight, I realized that God had wanted us to be 110% sure that we wanted those
children. They needed to be with each other and I believed they needed us. “God
show me and teach me what I need for our kids.” I prayed. “Help me
to love and care for these children.”

When Russell and I had
married on November 25, 19 88, we knew we wanted a big family. Ten years
later, with four young sons, I learned I could not have more children.
Yet, our family did not feel complete. The next year, we adopted a
beautiful six-month baby girl, Caitlyn, from a Chinese orphanage. Caitlyn
filled our lives with love and joy, but there was room in our hearts for more.

I began looking for sibling
groups in this country to adopt since I knew they were hard to place.
When a social worker called to tell me about a sibling group of six, she had my
attention. The six kids ages three to nine, had been removed from an abusive
home and bounced around foster homes for three years. They were in two
separate homes at the time. It was likely they would be split up further
in hopes of finding them adoptive homes. Hearing about these poor
innocent children, my heart opened wide. They needed a loving home and I
believed they belonged with us.

“Six kids?” Russell gasped
when I told him. “Are you crazy?” I told him about their hardships.
“I feel bad too, but we’d need a bigger house, a bigger van, even a bigger
kitchen table.” But he did not say no. “I need some time to think
about it,” he explained.

I knew that Russell and I
would need to be a team. I prayed and trusted that God would lead us in
the right direction—together—whichever way that would be. A few days later,
Russell, who was a builder by trade, handed me a blueprint to our new
house. “My buddies offered to help with the construction,” he said and
then added: “I guess we can always add a leaf to the table.”

“We can do this!” I
cried, hugging him. Then, I got on the phone with the social worker
to set up a visitation to meet our children. Russell and I
flew from Idaho to California in October of 2000 for a three-day visit with
them. Our first visit was spent in the social work office for four
hours. I had come prepared with a backpack full of games and treats to
help with interaction. I was not prepared, however, for the hostility
from the three oldest girls–Daisy, nine, Sandra, eight, and Rosa, seven.
They had no idea a family wanted to adopt them. The girls expected to
return to their original home eventually. Instead, on the drive to the
office, a social worker told them they were going to meet their new
parents.

Being watched by multiple
social workers while we interacted with the children was exhausting but still
exhilarating. Russell and I had never even seen their pictures. They were
beautiful, and we fell in love with them. Our excitement
overflowed. When we stopped at a grocery store on our way back to the hotel, a
woman looked at us and commented: “I don’t know who you two are, but you
both just glow.”

The next two visits were
easier since we took them to a park for a picnic and games. At the end of
the three days of visits, we began an uphill battle of getting through mounds
of red tape. Finally, by the time the children arrived in Idaho on June
1, 2002, the media had reported on our fight for them. There were forty
to fifty people at the airport with us to welcome them home.

Seven-year-old Rosa got off
the plane looking confused and scared. “Rosa,” I called. “Momma’s
here.” Her eyes lit up and she ran into my open arms. I cried tears of
joy and saw onlookers crying with me.

But before long, the tears
that flowed were out of frustration. The three oldest girls had been told
they could return to their foster home if they wanted. They tried every
trick in the book to get us to kick them out. When that failed, they would pack
their bags and threaten to leave, but never at the same time. One would
pack and the others would talk her out of leaving. We told the girls we
loved them and wanted to be their parents, but we would not force them to
stay. The girls loved each other. They knew that getting adopted by us
was the only way for them to stay together and to stay with their younger
siblings, Francisco, six, Maricela, four, and Carmen, three. Still, they
were confused and scared.

“Your not our blood!” the
girls often screamed at me. Russell and I were a tag team, always backing
each other up, but it was exhausting. It had been two months when I
experienced my moment of doubt. But fortified by prayer, Russell and I
dug our heels in and loved those children. I met them after school with
homemade snacks and tucked each one into bed at night with an “I love you.”
Every morning and evening, we knelt as a family and prayed. Before meals
and before settling a problem we prayed too. Still, the behavior
worsened. After a lifetime of insecurity and rejection, these kids were daring
us to throw them out. But after three months of security and love, they
finally started to respond. The bad behavior gradually slowed down. The kids
started feeling like they were home.

In December, six months
after they arrived, I knew we were finally a family. My sister had just
made each of the children their own special blanket. When Russell and I
walked downstairs to join them to watch a Christmas video, all eleven kids were
mixed in together, cuddling under their new blankets, giggling and sharing
popcorn. “Honey, look,” I whispered. “We’re a family.”

Russell and I smiled at
each other. “We made it,” he said.

But there was still a
missing piece. I learned from Daisy that there was an older
brother. Since he had been separated from the rest of the family and put
into institutionalized care four years earlier, the social workers had lost
track of him. They originally thought I was mistaken because there was
also an older half-sibling living in Mexico. After some digging, we found
thirteen-year-old Victor living in a group home. He was considered
unadoptable for extreme behaviors and parental rights had never been
terminated. Now that the children had all settled in, Russell and I were
determined to bring Victor home too.

We got permission to have Victor
visit us for four days over Thanksgiving. He seemed to be in awe at
family life, watching our every move, but unable to join in on the fun and
laughter himself. He came again at Christmas. It was then that he
had an emotional release that resulted in a full-blown tantrum. Victor was
learning disabled so he was having trouble processing everything. His
fear and heartbreak at having been abandoned by his family when he was nine
years old poured out. But now, surrounded by his family again and all our
love, Victor begged us not to send him back at the end of the visit.
Unfortunately, we had no choice. There were still lots of hurdles and red
tape to get through. Finally, after five months of pleading his case and
getting help from our governor and senators, we were able to bring him home for
good.

When Victor stepped off the
plane, our youngest son shouted out to him. The expression on his face
went from scared to joyful. “You came!” he cried.

The social worker
confided in me, “He was afraid you wouldn’t really come for him.” We all
hugged Victor and welcomed him into our family for good.

As the years rolled by, the
love deepened between us, and I often looked over my family in awe. They
were growing up to be such beautiful, loving and respectful children. I
felt blessed. But at bedtime prayer, I kept feeling as if everyone was
not there.

Then, out of the blue, a
friend who was looking into an adoption sent me an email about four young
siblings who were up for adoption. They had already been adopted out once and
brought back because the family really only wanted the baby. “I think these
kids are meant for you,” my friend wrote. I agreed. It had been five
years since we had added to our family, and in all that time, I had felt that our
family was not complete yet.

I shared the email with
Russell. “It’s such an emotional roller coaster,” he said. “I think
we are done.” I just prayed. I believed that this was not something I
should pressure Russell about. Only God knew if we were done or not, so I put
it completely in His hands. A couple weeks later, Russell asked me why I
had not mentioned that sibling group again.

“You work hard all week and
I respect your feelings,” I said. “If you think this is not right for us,
I accept that.”

“I’ve had a change of
heart,” he confessed. “I know the kids would love them and if you think
you can handle it, I can too.”

There were ten other
families looking at this group, but everything fell into place and the social
worker thought they belonged with us. On November 6, 2006, Samantha
seven, Selena, five, Stephanie, three, and Jaden, twenty-one months, slipped
into our family as if they had always been here. There was not so much as
a ruffle. They immediately moved into our hearts and found laps galore waiting
to hold and love them.

It’s been three years since
we have been a family with sixteen kids. We moved to the outskirts of
town on seven acres so Russell could begin a natural produce business and
provide safe after-school employment for our kids. The kids share rooms,
chores, love of family, and a faith in God.

As I look back at the
storms we navigated and how far we’ve come, I’m in awe. With hindsight, I
can see clearly that for every wall we backed into, God opened a door. Even
during the rough times, He never abandoned us. And now, thanks to Him, no one
in our family will ever need to feel abandoned again.

____________________________________

This story is taken from the
book Amazing
Grace for Families.

Jan is fun loving person from
Gooding, Idaho. She was a computer programmer by trade but left that
job for what she describes as the best job in the world–being
a mother to her 16 beautiful children and a wife to a wonderful husband.