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.
