August 25, 2019
Please, God. Please don’t make me do this! Surely there is some other way. Surely there is a solution I haven’t thought of yet. You know me! You know I am weak and exhausted and ill-equipped for this path. You know I have cancer, for heaven’s sake! God, you know I can’t do this!
And yet, despite my tear-filled tantrum, despite my reminding God of all the things He already knows, this is precisely what He is asking me to do. He is asking me to teach my son. At home. We tried sending him to school where he might be able to receive the special education that he needs. But that was not the answer. We tried hiring a private teacher at home where his fragile health will be protected. But that was not the answer either.
No, I know in the depths of my heart that there is no other option for his education. For this season, anyway, God is calling me to this task. He is calling me to rely on, not the experts or the professionals or the “multitudes.” There is certainly a time and a place and season for those resources. But for this season, He wants me to rely on the Holy One of Israel. He wants me to seek help from Him as I walk this path. (Isaiah 31:1)
And the path, for me, is daunting. Since the day I met him nearly ten years ago, I have poured myself wholeheartedly into protecting him and keeping him healthy. I have researched his complicated physical conditions and have found the very best specialists who can help him to thrive. And it has been such a tremendous joy to see him thrive! Every day, his vibrant personality and zeal for life simply amazes me! The fact that he is alive simply amazes me!
But his learning difficulties? His neuro-developmental disabilities? Those are way beyond me. They defy my ability to understand. How can I possibly teach him to read, much less to comprehend and apply what he is reading? How can I help him memorize math facts when numbers make no sense to him? But even more frightening than the academics is the life-skills that are so essential for him to learn. How can I possibly teach him everything he needs to know to live a productive and independent life some day? The very thought of it overwhelms and almost paralyzes me.
June 6, 2019
It’s cancer. Malignant. Stage 4. Angry and aggressive. Rare. Incurable.
The oncologist is speaking, and she is saying words that surely I must have heard before. But never have I realized what ugly, vile words they are. These words? Describing me? Unbelievable!
The oncologist goes on, almost apologetically, explaining that medical science doesn’t know what could have caused this terrible disease, especially since I do not have any of the usual risk factors. I am young-ish, not overweight, non-smoker, no family history. Well, medical science may not have clinical evidence to prove it, but secretly, I suspect the real cause. In fact, I have suspected it for years.
I mean, the human body can only endure so much anxiety and trauma and grief and heartache, before something has got to give. Honestly, during our 20+ years of caring for some of our community’s most broken and most fragile and most needy children in our home, I have given my finite body an Olympic-worthy workout. I have demanded of my little adrenal glands, day after day, year after year that they keep producing an almost constant stream of adrenaline and cortisol, those hormones that the body needs during times of extreme stress. How can that not eventually have an adverse effect?
Those thousands of nights when I should have been sleeping, that vital time when the body’s cells restore and rejuvenate, but instead I was keeping vigil at a child’s bedside, wondering if he or she would survive until morning. The thousands of nights when I cried into my pillow, wondered if I would survive until morning. Managing countless moments of destructive behaviors, calming violent outbursts and tantrums, trying desperately to understand the hidden fears and hurts behind the rage. Grabbing a quick granola bar or skipping meals altogether on my way out the door to yet another appointment or meeting or visit or court hearing. The frequent worry and desperate prayers for a child’s uncertain and precarious future. The dozens and dozens of times that I was overcome by grief, weeping for days when a flawed court system suddenly decided that a precious child who had been a part of my heart and a beloved member of our family for months or years, would not be able to stay, and I knew that life would never again be the same.
How could many years of, quite literally, laying down my life (John 15:13) for the least of these (Matthew 25:45) not eventually have an impact? How could a lifetime of “being poured out as a drink offering” (2 Timothy 4:6) not eventually take its toll?
May 24, 2019
This is the new foster placement coordinator
(I don’t think we have met yet). I see from our
records that you have space available in your
home, and I was wondering if you might be
interested in taking a new foster placement.
We would be willing to consider it, sure!
Can you give me some more details?
There is a 3-year old little boy who is in the
hospital and ready to be discharged soon.
Oh, wow! Do you know why he is in the
hospital? Does he have a lot of medical
needs? Will he need special care?
I just got the paperwork from the investigator,
so I am unfamiliar with the case. Let’s see . . .
It looks like he has a feeding tube and he has
a trach. And possibly some endocrine issues.
He is being taken into protective custody due
to medical neglect.
Oh, no! That poor child! My heart goes out
to him. However, we have had several
children with trachs over the years, and they
are SO hard! They need full-time, 24-hour
care, and we just cannot commit to that. We
are going to have to say no. I’m so sorry!
Ok, well, let me see if I can get some more
information and then get back with you.
That’s fine if you want to find out more
information, but we are unable to take a child
with a trach. We really need to say no.
Thank you for your honesty. I understand
that this would be a big commitment. Let me
put you in touch with his medical team at the
hospital. They may be able to give you more
details about his care, and answer any
questions you may have.
Ok, sure. It never hurts to get more
information and ask some questions, right?
May 18, 2019
After waiting for a few minutes in the waiting room, we hear our name being called and follow the click-clack of the woman’s heels down the hall towards her office. She motions for us to take a seat on the other side of her desk, offering us coffee. Commenting on the weather. Asking if we were able to find a spot in the parking deck across the street without too much trouble. She is obviously trying to be polite and make us feel comfortable, but I am impatient and ready to get down to business. We are here for answers, not small talk.
Finally, she sits behind her desk and hands us a thick stack of papers, neatly bound together with a large binder clip. It my first hint that this meeting is not going to be quick. Or that the news inside these documents is not going to be good. I had been secretly hoping that she would give us a single sheet of paper, one that said something simple like, Your child’s test scores all came back in the “normal” range, and you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Have a nice day! But of course my secret hopes were entirely unrealistic. We wouldn’t have requested these evaluations in the first place unless we had suspected that something was seriously wrong. The thick stack of papers is a professional’s report, confirming and articulating in technical terminology what we already know to be true.
She starts talking about the report, explaining some of the details and diagnoses. You know how, when Charlie Brown’s teacher talks, all you can hear is Wah wah, wah wah, wah wah wah instead of the actual words? That is exactly what this feel like. I can hear this woman’s voice, and I know she is saying actual words, but I am unable to understand any of it through the fog of shock. How can these words be describing our child?
Seeing our child’s weaknesses and struggles right here in black and white, complete with specific codes from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5), is sobering and heart-breaking. What parents want to read a document that officially declares that their child is deficient? What parents want to admit that their child is fundamentally flawed? Abnormal? Broken?
May 11, 2019
His parents just stand there helplessly, pleading with their son to please, please reconsider. To please make a better, wiser, more sensible choice. His father prays silent, fervent prayers, asking God to give him just the right words to say that would change their son’s mind. His mother tries desperately to hold back the tears, begging God to please let this not be true. How did they get to this point? Where had everything gone so terribly wrong?
It hadn’t always been like this. They remember, as if were yesterday, the years and years that they had waited and prayed and longed for a child. How they had struggled to remain brave and hopeful as the families all around them seemed to be flourishing and growing, and their own womb remained empty.
And then the day, that wonderful day, the happiest day of their life, when God answered their prayers and gave them a beautiful, perfect baby boy. Their son. Oh, how they rejoiced! And their lips praised, again and again, the One who works wonders. And their hearts overflowed with thanksgiving for His goodness and His mercy and for giving them this precious, priceless gift.
They committed their son fully, completely, wholeheartedly to God. They knelt down before the Lord, falling on their faces to the ground, and pleaded with God to give them wisdom to raise their child. To teach them what to do. To show them the kind of life God wanted their son to have. To use them, despite their inexperience and inadequacies, to prepare this boy for the mission, the grand purpose for which God had created him.
Now that God had so generously answered their prayers for a child, they took their parenting role very seriously, and they knew that they would need God’s help every step of the way. They obeyed God completely. They observed every command. They raised their son to be strong and courageous. They taught him God’s word at every opportunity. They modeled for him what it means to live a life with the utmost respect and reverence for God’s holiness.
And now? Now their son is grown, independent, old enough to make his own decisions. And his parents are deeply grieved, not only at the foolish choices that he is making, but at the dangerous direction his life is taking. At the angry young man he is becoming. His life is full of fighting, violence, destruction, and revenge. He is reckless and impulsive. He is promiscuous and – they can barely bear the deep shame of it – he actually sleeps with prostitutes! Could this really be the same person that they had dedicated to God all those years ago? It hardly seems possible.
March 1, 2019
You look at the path ahead, the journey that God has called you to, and you can barely comprehend the enormity of what you are facing. The obstacles are immense. The challenges, unimaginable. The destination, thoroughly unobtainable. You think, No way, God! I can’t do this. This path you have called me to? It is insane. It is impossible!
This is not the path you wanted. Well, not exactly. You love God, of course. With all your heart you love God, and throughout the years that you have walked with Him, you have been blessed in so many ways. Back in the day, you even had the great privilege of witnessing the amazing miracles that only He could do. Oh, the stories you could tell of His faithfulness and power and goodness!
But this? This isn’t exactly what you signed up for. You thought by now, now that you are this far down the path, that the journey would be getting easier, not harder! And certainly not impossible! You start to doubt, thinking, maybe you misunderstood what He is asking you to do. Perhaps you took a wrong turn somewhere along the journey, and if you could just find your way back to the right path, the one He must have intended for you to take, then everything will work out. Then you can breathe easy again.
But no. There is no other path. There is no way around it. This is the place He has led you to. This is the journey forward He is asking you to take. This is the impossible He is calling you to.
February 12, 2019
“We will adopt your baby!” We have seen the posts and read the comments. We have seen the pictures of individuals and couples holding signs with this printed message, standing outside the clinics and at the pro-life rallies. And while this is a well-meaning response to the recent abortion legislation and subsequent media attention, is offering to adopt her baby the right answer? The intent is good! Big-hearted and noble even! But offering to adopt her baby is an overly simplistic answer to a complex and much deeper issue.
The offer itself, if anyone chooses to be so brave, will need to be an offer that is made unconditionally. It is an offer that cannot be made with any exceptions. Not a single “if.“ Offering to adopt a child who has not yet been born is a serious consideration, a game-changing decision that could significantly affect us and the other members of our family for the rest of our lives!
Can we honestly say that we would be willing to adopt a baby with a different ethnicity than our own? One with special needs or who may be born with serious birth defects? One whose birthmother has AIDS or other communicable diseases? A baby who has already been exposed to dangerous substances that most assuredly has negatively impacted his or her brain development? If we are unable or unwilling to adopt a child with no questions asked, then perhaps we should not be offering at all.
Please hear me . . . I am not saying that a baby with significant special needs is ever a valid reason to have an abortion! Not at all! But if we ourselves are unwilling or unable to raise a child with significant special needs, perhaps we should not be so quick to criticize the expectant mother who is unwilling or unable to do so either.
And let’s take a step back for a moment, so we can look at the bigger picture. While offering to adopt her baby – unconditionally and without exceptions - is certainly a valid alternative to abortion, adoption is not the only alternative. Nor is adoption necessarily the best alternative. Adoption can be a beautiful thing, a moment when an orphaned child and a loving family find each other, joining their hearts together for the rest of their lives. Many of us have a story that includes adoption, and we are so, so thankful that it does!
But adoption only tells half of the story. What we often miss is that adoption is, or at least should be, the last resort. Adoption is the solution for when all other options have failed. If our response to abortion is to stand up and say, “We will adopt your baby!” we are inadvertently skipping to the last resort. And when we do so, we miss entirely the other piece of the equation. We completely overlook the mother who is carrying the baby.
January 5, 2019
We are a community of mothers who love our children powerfully and passionately. Who want and dream and envision only the best for them and their future. And together, when we see first-hand how difficult this job of parenting can sometimes be, we stick together. We are a tribe of warrior mamas who defend each other in the fiercest battles. Sisters who support one another with practical resources during the most difficult seasons. Kindred spirits who refuse to let another one fall. We encourage one another, as often as necessary, to keep pressing on.
Some of us have children with chronic or life-threatening health issues. The ones whose children are facing such a terrifying medical diagnosis, that we know, intuitively, that there is no way we can do this by ourselves. And when we openly ask our community of mothers for help, the response is almost always immediate and powerful. Neighbors bring meals. Church leaders and family members gather to pray. Friends wear the special t-shirt that symbolizes their esprit de corps . . . their camaraderie. Mothers who are further along in the journey, those of us who have traveled this way before, share our experiences and hard-earned wisdom, extending a hand up to those of us who are just starting out. We are reminded in so many ways that we are not alone.
Some of us call ourselves the lucky ones, the mamas of children with genetic disorders or developmental delays or heart defects. The ones who have the incomparable privilege of watching God’s plan unfold in unexpected and miraculous ways. (1)
Some of us have intentionally chosen the hard and rocky path. We have stepped into the brokenness of foster care and adoption, opening our arms and our homes to welcome children who have been traumatized, neglected, abused, forgotten. Children with immense emotional and behavioral challenges that wreak havoc in our families.
At the beginning, we were excited about where this journey would take us, knowing that we, too, were the lucky ones. We just knew that we would have the incomparable privilege of watching God’s plan unfold in unexpected and miraculous ways. But now, years later, our blog posts have become fewer and fewer. Our posts and pictures on social media are pretty much non-existent. Once upon a time we were the most vocal, the most passionate, the biggest advocates for orphaned and vulnerable children! But now? Now we have become the silent ones.
December 31, 2018
isolated systems of the entire universe
will always gravitate towards entropy,
or gradual decline into disorder.
– 2ndLaw of Thermodynamics
It’s that time of year again . . . the time when I look around and wonder how my home could have possibly gravitated towards such disorder. The messes in every corner of every room, the piles of things that I don’t know what to do with, the items I do need but can’t seem to find anywhere. I decide, here and now, that one of the priorities in the New Year will be to de-clutter. To bring some sort of order to this chaos. It is definitely time for a change!
The entropy, the decline into clutter, did not happen overnight, which means that it will not be tackled overnight either. This kind of decluttering project cannot be completed in a day. Or even a week. It will take time. There may be seasons when it gets overwhelming, the task before me much too big. But little by little, bit by bit, I will rejoice in the moments of progress. I will focus, unwavering and resolute on my goal of peace and order and, dare I say, joy in my physical spaces.
This is even more true for my mental spaces. I wonder how my mind could have possibly gravitated towards such disorder. The regrets and grief of yesterday’s failures, the anxiety of all of tomorrow’s unknowns, the ideas and dreams that I do want to focus on but my mind won’t rest long enough. I decide, here and now, that one of the priorities in the New Year will be to de-clutter my mind. To bring some sort of order to the chaotic thoughts. It is definitely time for a change!
September 18, 2018
Once upon a time, many, many Sundays ago, I walked into the sanctuary just a few minutes before the service started, and sat down next to some friends of mine. They started joking, No, no, this will never work. We need to sit boy-girl-boy-girl. You know, because that’s how mature we all were in our 20’s. After a little bit of shuffling and rearranging, I ended up sitting next to the very guy that my friend had been wanting me to meet.
All summer and autumn, my friend had been telling me, You need to meet my fiancé’s roommate. I think you would really like him! My answer back to her was always the same: I don’t want you to introduce us or set us up or plan a blind date. If God wants me to meet him, we will meet.
And unbeknownst to me, my friend’s fiancé had been telling his roommate for months and months: You need to meet my fiancée’s friend. I think you would really like her! His roommate’s answer was always the same: I don’t want you to introduce us or set us up or plan a blind date. If God wants me to meet her, we will meet.
Well, there we were that Sunday in November, sitting right next to each other in church. Apparently, God did want us to meet!
He turned to me and introduced himself, shaking my hand, and then said probably the most original “pick-up line” that has ever been spoken: So, I hear you want to be a missionary! Yes, as a matter of fact, I did want to be a missionary. He had heard correctly!
That was my heart’s desire . . . to spend my life doing something amazing for God. To tell others about Jesus. To love and serve and give all of myself, no matter what, no matter where. And the thought of finding someone else who had the same passion in his heart? My friend and her fiancé were right . . . this guy and I would really like each other!
And the rest, as they say, is history. Only seven months later, on a warm day in the middle of June, I walked down the aisle, and that guy became my husband. We promised to love each other in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or worse, until death parted us. We were excited to see what the future held for us. We were excited to see where God was going to ask us to go!
June 5, 2018
The enormous waves are crashing all around, first one, then the next, getting higher by the minute. You feel yourself sinking fast, and panic fills your pores. The howling wind pretty much drowns out your desperate cries. Help! Please, please help! Save me!!
You had started out so brave. Your faith had once been so strong. What happened? How did you end up here, drowning in this violent storm?
You have been following Jesus for a while now, and sure, you have experienced your share of hardships, but getting to know Jesus personally, learning from Him and walking side by side with Him. You wouldn’t trade that for all the fish in the sea!
During these past few years, you have seen first-hand the amazing, miraculous things that He can do. The broken have been healed. Hunger has been satisfied. Prisoners have been set free. You know, you just know that He is who He says He is! You vow in your heart that whatever He asks you to do, wherever He asks you to go, you will say yes.
So when He calls you to Come, to step into the unknown, to walk by faith in a way that you never have before, you are thrilled! This is the moment you have been waiting for! The moment when you yourself get the great privilege of seeing your life go from ordinary to extraordinary, Of being a part of the miraculous!
May 27, 2018
The kids had just finished up their lunch, and if I was smart, I would have kept to our regular schedule and settled them into their beds for an afternoon nap. But the gorgeous weather outside was calling to me, tempting me to enjoy the sunshine on my face, even if only for a few minutes.
After quickly tying my hair into a ponytail, I unfolded the double stroller and buckled the two little ones into it, and helped the older ones fasten their bike helmets into place. The sun and fresh air that day felt just as glorious as I had hoped it would!
We hadn’t even reached the end of the block, however, before the delightful moment ended. The baby started crying, and when I stopped to pick him up, he vomited all over me. Meanwhile, the ones on their bikes were getting a little bit too far ahead for comfort, and I yelled out a reminder to them to Stop at the corner!
My fashionable neighbor arrived home at that exact moment, and I’m sorry to say that inwardly I cringed a little bit. She climbed out of her Cheerios-free car and walked towards me, her heels click-clacking on the sidewalk, a dazzling smile on her face. I felt instantly ugly.
While I struggled to clean up and comfort the baby, and look frantically down the street towards the diminishing figures of my children on their bikes, she stood right next to me trying to engage in conversation. In her hand was a leather Bible and a cute little flowered notebook.
Apparently, she had just arrived home from a weekly ladies’ Bible study. The one that she led. At the church where her husband was a pastor. Great. Now I felt instantly ugly and inferior. I am certain that as she was standing there looking at me, she was thinking to herself, This lady needs Jesus!
Because the children who are always with me have varying sizes, shapes, and skin tones, I am pretty much a walking advertisement for orphan care. When I confirmed that yes, these little ones with me were indeed my foster children, she blurted, Oh, that’s wonderful that you do that! My husband and I have talked about getting involved in foster care, but we wouldn’t want to give up our date nights.
May 19, 2018
Our son was about 2 years old at the time. He was just finishing up with his bedtime snack, when a “grown up” movie started on the television. Wanting to protect his young eyes and ears, I said, Hey Buddy, let’s go in the other room. This is a Papa movie, and it might be a little bit scary. His eyes got big as he looked up at me and asked, Do you mean it has spiders in it?
Spiders?! That was the scariest thing he could imagine! I loved the innocence of it! And really, isn’t that what parents want to do – to preserve their children’s sweet innocence as long as they can? To protect them from the harsh realities of life? The world can be full of danger and disappointments and brokenness, but do they really need to know about all of that just yet?
When we welcome foster kids into our home, we are doing the exact opposite of protecting our own children’s innocence. We are exposing them, from a very young age, and most likely before they are mature enough to process it all, to the grim facts. To the darkest, most awful, most shocking ways that people live. We are showing them, firsthand, how people hurt one another. How poor choices can lead to such devastating consequences. How families can fracture and leave broken children in their wake.
Before our children are old enough to understand the meanings, they hear ugly words like domestic violence and restraining order. They hear about addictions and mental illness. How can a child who has only known a loving, stable, safe home possibly understand what child abuse means? Really? Parents hurt their children? On purpose?!
May 14, 2018
It is such a beautiful spring morning, but the weather is completely hidden by the dim lights inside the church. The rows of chairs are filled with friends and family, so many well-wishers who are gathered to surround this family with support and solidarity during their time of unspeakable loss.
When the father, a foster parent friend of mine, steps up to the microphone and describes the moment last week when he placed his baby daughter into the doctor’s arms for the last time, and then used the pen to sign her death certificate, and then realized that he would never get to hold her again, there is not one dry eye in the room. Heartbreak beyond explanation.
He is transparent in his grief. He speaks of sobbing in the night, crying out to God, Please don’t waste this! Meaning, please don’t let my baby girl have died in vain. Please use her death for a greater purpose. Please give meaning to our devastation.
It’s not fair! Why would such a terrible thing happen to such a nice family? A family who has stepped into this hard calling of foster care and has committed their life to serving the most weak and vulnerable? After all they have done and given and served and sacrificed, shouldn’t good people like them be somehow exempt from tragedies like this? Shouldn’t God be protecting them from suffering like this?
March 21, 2018
The outburst at school is completely unexpected, and catches his teacher by surprise. In the whole time that he has been in her class, she has never seen him act this way before. She knows a little about his story – about his rocky start in life, about his birth mother who was incapable of caring for him, about some of the trauma and uncertainty and upheaval that he has experienced during his childhood, about his multiple disruptions and moves during his journey through the foster care system.
Still, it’s been more than a year that he has been with his current foster family, a family who is loving and involved and who want the very best for him, and he seems to have settled in nicely there. Where could all these sudden strong emotions be coming from?
A brief conversation with his foster mother clears up the mystery. Yes, he fits in well with their family. Yes, they love him passionately. But they recently found out that everything will soon be changing. His birth parents’ rights are going to be terminated in court, and he will be free for adoption. While this is what he ultimately needs – unconditional love and permanency and stability - this also means yet another move from his current foster family to an unknown adoptive family somewhere. This will mean yet another painful, difficult, frightening transition.
He had been brave when they first started talking about it, asking questions and trying to imagine what the future might look like for him. But he realizes that the permanent loss of his biological parents means that any hope he might have been holding out for reunification is now over. That door is forever closed.
And now the loss of his foster family too? The loss of his friends and church and school and neighbors, everything that is familiar? The fear and grief eventually came bubbling to the surface at the most inopportune time – in the middle of class! – and thus, the emotional outburst. Everyone understands but, although they are sympathetic, there is nothing they can do to change this boy’s situation.
This child needs a family. A family who will gently, patiently help him deal with his grief and loss. A family who will love him as their own son, who will embrace his disability and provide him with opportunities to excel. And now that he will soon be entering adolescence, he needs a family with a father who will walk alongside him as he navigates the tumultuous years into young adulthood.
For most of us, when we hear his story, there is a little stirring in our hearts, a spark of compassion for this boy.
March 13, 2018
Before the church service began, we could tell by the muted noises up front that it would be a special one. Little ones dressed up in their best outfits, parents doing their best to shush them and keep them calm for just a few more minutes. Little girls with pink bows in their hair. Baby boys with miniature suits.
Several times a year, our church has a Child Dedication ceremony – an opportunity for parents to commit to raising their children in a godly, Bible-focused, Christ-centered home. It’s a sweet, tender moment, a solemn vow that these parents are taking. And for some of us, it’s a poignant reminder of our own children, and our own commitment not too long ago to raise them to know and love the Lord.
This brief ceremony is also for us, the Church Family. The pastor asks us if we will commit to walking beside these moms and dads on their parenting journey. If we will encourage them when the days get hard. If we will mentor them and counsel them as they seek wisdom. If we will pray for them and support them and partner with them along the way, doing everything within our power to help their children come to a personal relationship with Jesus.
Yes, we say, with enthusiastic agreement. Yes, we commit to stand with these families and their beautiful young children in the days and years to come. Yes, we promise to help them keep the vows that they have made today. Yes, we do!
March 8, 2018
These hard plastic chairs in the hospital lobby were certainly not designed for comfort. I sit here listening to a talk show host drone on the television that is mounted on the wall in the corner. I watch the other patients coming and going and wonder idly what emergency would bring them to this place on a cold night like this. I hold this little child on my lap, this child who is completely dependent on me to take care of his complex medical issues, and silently try to calculate how many hundreds or possibly thousands of hours I have spent just sitting. Waiting.
Sometimes I imagine that I am a Warrior Mama, fighting for these children, protecting them, advocating for them at every opportunity. And I am! Quite often I am the one who speaks up for them, defending their best interests, pleading with the courts and social workers and whoever else will listen the importance of permanency. Communicating how complex their needs, how delayed their development, how fragile their emotions. Fiercely protecting them!
Sometimes I do need to Go. To act and speak and do and move and fight. But more often, if I’m honest with myself, this journey is mostly about doing exactly what I am doing at this very moment: waiting.
February 20, 2018
Sometimes, when you least expect it, the extraordinary happens. You open your hands wide to receive the gift, and find that it is more amazing, more remarkable than you could ever have imagined. You find that you are holding something beautiful, a priceless treasure wholly undeserved.
I know, because it happened to me.
I watch this little one running down my driveway, full steam ahead, hair streaming behind her like long brown ribbons. Her strong legs pumping with energy and enthusiasm, her back strong with confidence. And my heart overflows with love for her. With gratitude for this immeasurable gift. Moments like this almost take my breath away. I look at her, amazed, and can hardly believe that this beautiful child is mine.
Three years ago, I had no idea that when I answered the phone one winter afternoon, that my life, and the lives of our entire family, would forever be changed. I said yes to the woman on the other end of the line, asking if I would please come to the hospital as soon as possible, because there was a baby, a precious newborn there in the plastic bassinette, waiting for a family.
February 11, 2018
It’s an ordinary evening in every way. I am standing in front of the stove cooking dinner for my family when my phone chimes, alerting me of an incoming message. I glance at the screen, assuming for a second that it is most likely my husband, letting me know that he is on his way home from work. But when I read the words on my screen, even before my mind fully processes them, my heart, always leading out in front, stops for a beat or two. I have been expecting this news for a few days now, but here it is in black and white, a simple text that will forever alter the course of my foster son’s life. It is confirmation that he will be leaving.
I turn off the stove – because even in my shock, I am perpetually responsible – lower myself to the floor in a near-fetal position, and bawl my eyes out. This year-long season of pouring out and loving and serving and becoming exhausted and sacrificing everything for this child’s well-being. This season is over.
This is not how I wanted it to end. I wanted to be the rescuer. To remove him from his brokenness and be a part of his healing process. I had hoped that there would be a happily ever after. I had prayed, countless times, begging God over and over again to please, please do a miracle. A miracle that never came.
January 19, 2018
The first hint of worry about the impending storm surfaced in my heart, but I ignored it, convinced that I could weather it just fine. After all, I was confident and capable. It would take more than a little rain cloud to quench my faith.
The rain began, innocently enough, with tiny droplets of water, only a light mist of disappointments. Not all that concerning. But then the rain began in earnest, quickly drenching me completely. A foster child so traumatized and damaged, that my very best efforts were utterly unable to help him heal. A dreaded medical diagnosis that taught me what it means to truly fear. A grown child who has chosen a different path, leaving me shocked and devastated, sobbing into my pillow at night, wondering what went wrong. It wasn’t long before the light sprinkles became a steady downpour, a deluge of wind and driving rain, and I could no longer pretend that my faith was strong.
God, if You are even listening at all, why have You led me to this dark and lonely place? My faith is so weak! And if I’m deeply honest, I’m pretty sure I might be losing my faith altogether. You promise that You will work all things together for good, but how can this, this downpour, be for my good? I have cried out to You again and again to please help me be strong, and yet day after day, year after year, You remain silent.
This journey has indeed tested my faith almost to the breaking point. I have been discouraged so many times, disappointed in myself that the trials of this journey have proven – to me and to everyone who knows me - that my faith is not very strong at all!
But what option do I have? Give up? Hide? Do nothing? Let the darkness win? If I did that, what would I say? Sorry, I can’t serve you today; it’s raining. Sorry, I can see that you are drowning, but I can’t help you into the lifeboat; I’m too discouraged. Of course not! I think of King David who described his "downcast" soul and the tears that soaked his pillow. Clearly he walked in the rain, and yet God called him - and equipped him - to rule an entire nation!
But how? How can I keep loving the children the Lord has brought into our family? How can I keep ministering to the least of these? How can I keep serving and giving and doing? How can I keep walking in the rain?
January 12, 2018
One day you sit back and take a good look at your life, and you are overcome with gratitude. You suddenly realize that everything is almost picture-perfect. Your home is orderly and organized, the clutter under control. Your children are well-behaved and happy, not perfect of course, but generally manageable. You are happy. You have a predictable routine, wonderful friends, enjoyable hobbies, big dreams. You are the poster child for a comfortable, cozy life.
And so you ask yourself, innocently enough, why not? Why not share this beautiful life with a child in need? There are so many forgotten children who do not have a family to call their own, why not share yours? After all, you reason, you have a lot of love in your heart. Wouldn’t it be amazing to be able to make a difference in someone else’s life? To give someone else an opportunity to thrive? To give someone else hope for the future?
It is not an easy decision. You know, in the corners of your heart, that it will be difficult. Life-changing, even. Of course there will be an adjustment period. Some getting used to. But, you tell yourself, you are a fairly intelligent, competent, confident person. How hard could it really be?
And secretly you think, maybe you can become the poster child for this brave new thing. If you can do it, maybe other people - your friends, others in your church, your contacts on social media – maybe they will follow your example and be inspired to do it too!