The terrain on this race was rocky and treacherous, so despite my vigilance and careful attention, sustaining injuries was inevitable. Contrary to what some people may believe, foster parents are not secretly hiding a pair of angel wings under their running clothes. We are susceptible to the same sprains and pulled hamstrings as everyone else. I knew that I needed help, but I had no idea how, or whom, to ask. My friends and family members may have been willing to help, but I didn’t know how to let them. And although nobody ever verbalized it, I suspected everyone was thinking, “Isn’t this what you signed up for?” I had chosen this challenging path. Wasn’t it my own fault if I was struggling?
Getting together with family friends or even attending church regularly was completely out of the question. Consequently, the trail was lonely and desolate. My fatigue and isolation eventually led to self-pity and depression. Of course I knew that God was right there with me, but the human side of me desperately needed a crowd of witnesses cheering me on.