Seventeen years.
45 different children. Tens of thousands of unforgettable moments
experienced, challenging conflicts resolved, feeding schedules perfected and complex
behavioral issues researched and figured out.
Young lives literally saved with tender nurturing and attentive
care. So where is the sure confidence I
should be feeling? Why am I unable to
find the sense of pride in my accomplishments?
Perhaps it is because I am sitting at
the well-worn table in my slightly cluttered kitchen, and across from me is a woman
I have never met before, questioning, probing, prying into every imaginable area
of my life.
“What was your relationship like
with your siblings when you were younger?”
Oh, right, do any siblings always get
along perfectly when they are growing up?
And anyways, what on earth does that have to do with who I am today?
“What age were you when you first
started dating?” What kind of answer is she looking for? If I was quite young, she might question my
moral convictions. If I was older, she
might think I was too sheltered and couldn’t possibly understand the
experiences of today’s teenager.
“What kind of parent are you? How do you plan to discipline the children in
your home?” Well, of course any kind of physical discipline is out of the question
for a foster child. I strive to be
strong yet not over-bearing, consistent but not too strict, loving and kind
without being too permissive. Is it even
possible to find that perfect balance?
The palms of my hands are a little
sweaty and I can’t help but feel nervous and insecure, as if this is an interrogation
in the principal’s office, and with one wrong word she just might yell,
“Aha! I caught you!” It’s really a simple, standard
home-study. However, in the midst of
this tedious process, I am receiving a lesson in humility.
