FIRST PERSON | Christmas as a foster parent is a reminder of the children I cherished but no longer see | CBC News
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This is a First Person column by Lana Cullis, who lives in Powell River, B.C. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, see the FAQ.
One snowy day in November, my daughter Kit and I were sorting four boxes of tree ornaments and splitting them between ourselves. Now living independently, Kit wanted to put up her own Christmas tree. But for me, unpacking the decorations meant facing decades of loss and grief for children who were no longer present for the holidays.
For eight years, our family expanded and contracted with 23 foster children. Most placements were temporary, and while still fostering, our two children came to us by adoption. I was surprised to learn Kit had retained the origin stories of each home-made ornament — even for those makers she had never met. And I was shocked to discover many of her holiday memories were quite different from mine.
I opened a box to reveal a tree topper my husband and I received on our first Christmas together as newlyweds. I turned over the iridescent angel, and my fingers traced the crack between its wings and body. Krazy Glue holds the angel together, but our marriage proved beyond repair. I passed the angel to Kit. Would she want it given its precarious condition? Her eyes lit up beneath her festive reindeer hat.
“Mom, do you remember how I always wanted to be the one to put the angel on top of the tree? I thought I would never be tall enough.” We laughed together. “You’ve grown enough now, eh?” And so it was decided, the angel went with Kit.
I popped the lid off another tin and found a Santa sleigh and reindeer combo.
An eight-year-old boy we fostered had constructed it from foam blocks and pipe cleaners at the annual foster family Christmas party held in our community. I felt a mixture of residual grief and anger. His social worker had argued for — and then lost — the motion in court for him to become a permanent ward after five years in our home. We were not permitted to see him after that. Nor were we allowed to speak with him on the phone. His parents were understandably reluctant. We hoped our former foster child knew how much we loved him — still love him.
Kit sensed a change in my demeanour and took the Santa decoration from my hands.
“You always put this one near the bottom of the tree so I could play with it. I love this guy. Look at the flames shooting out from the back of the sleigh — just like in the movie.”
I had always wondered why he had stuck all those bits of red pipe cleaner out the back of the sleigh. Kit put it together, though. Like our foster children, Kit preferred to watch National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation on Christmas Eve rather than drive into the city for church.
The new sitcom Aunty B’s House for preschoolers teaches kids about foster care. The show marks an important step in representing different families on screen, its creators say.
Learning how to make Christmas holidays inclusive for the foster children entrusted into our care was something my former husband and both our parents took to heart. They agreed to hold our family Christmas dinner on Dec. 23 or Dec. 27 so that our foster children could spend Christmas and Boxing Day with their families, and not feel like they were missing out on the festivities in our home. We initiated a simple tradition of buying each child unique tree ornaments to place on the tree or hang in their room as they wished. When moving out of our home permanently (either by being returned to their families or when they aged out of the system), we gave them the choice to leave the ornament with us to remember them in subsequent years or to take it with them as a keepsake of our time together. This is how the Santa and reindeer ornament our eight-year-old foster son crafted came to stay among my decorations.
I retrieved another reindeer ornament — this one a jumble of chocolate-coloured pompoms, ribbon, big googly eyes and pipe cleaner antlers — from beneath the final layer of packing paper. A recycled curtain hook and a substantial glob of glue enabled the matched set of wacky ornaments to hang upright on the tree. “Big Balls!” I whooped, imitating my then nine-year-old son’s precocious nickname for the matching pair.
This was not the first time I had been a participant in dividing Christmas ornaments; 20 years ago my former husband and I divided our household belongings, including holiday decorations. I had assumed our adopted son and daughter were too young (they were ages eight and five, respectively, at the time), and our older foster children were not yet mature enough to notice the care my husband and I took to be equitable and fair — right down to sharing the two silly reindeer ornaments.
Kit turned the pompom Rudolph over in her hands, “You know, Momma, I loved knowing that no matter where I spent Christmas, Rudolph would be on the tree, and he still is.” Her reflection caught me off guard. Clearly, she had taken important lessons from our divorce that I was unaware of.
Decorating the tree this year promises to be different for me. I sense my daughter’s cheerful narrative will supersede any sadness I had unwittingly ascribed to each ornament. I can hardly wait to see her tree.
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