One strand at a time.

 

 

Two years ago today we got a phone call.

There was a little girl, three years old, very sick, and in need of a home.  God softened our hearts.

“Can you take her?” 

“Of course.”

A thread passed through the loom and was pressed in tight as to never come unraveled.  A thread of a different color.  A thread of unknown origin.  A thread of anxious preparation, unknown challenge.  What would it look like in our tapestry?

We went and picked her up at the hospital, so sad, so scared.

We didn’t think that she could stay.  Not what we had planned for, not what we had been told.  What if it wasn’t good for our family?  But God made a way, he provided, and she stayed.

Another thread passed through the loom and was pressed in tight.  A thread of trust, a thread of faith, a thread of change.

 

We went through treatment after treatment.  ER trips.  Scary illness.  Improved blood counts. Healing.  Healing.

We went through visits.  Up and down.  Back and forth.  Trauma after trauma.

We went through vomit.  Refusal to eat.  Eating challenges and, well, not eating challenges.

Painful bedtimes.  Trauma tantrums.  Disregulation.  Hating us.  Loving us.  Confusion.

Whump.  Whump.  Whump.  Thread after thread pressed tight into the weaving.  Different colors. Some light, some dark.  Some thick and hard to weave in.  Some silky and soft.

 

Finally trust.  Finally attachment.  Finally smiles.  Finally food.

Joined by her sister. 

Threads of sparkling beauty added to The Artist’s creation.

Final goodbyes.  Painful last experiences.  Ties damaged, but hopefully not broken.

Threads woven with blistered fingers.

 

What was it that The Artist was doing?  As we watched one thread woven through at a time we couldn’t tell.  Sometimes it seemed like things would turn out ugly. 

Sometimes our ideas of what our tapestry would look like were stretched. 

Sometimes we couldn’t see past the thread being woven to remember who was weaving.

 

But now.  Now looking back.  Look at the beauty.  Look how they all fit together.  A story told to be retold, revealing the beauty that The Artist had in mind.  It is gorgeous.  Not without it’s pulls in the thread.  Not without sweat and tears staining the weaving.  But all for the glory of the Artist.

Faith that He knew what he was doing.  That he had a plan for how all the threads would look together.  Looking back over the last two years I wouldn’t change a single thing. 

 

And look now.

 

 

It’s beautiful.

And we’re not done yet.

Thank you Jesus for weaving things in that we would have never considered.

 

I love you Bella.  My Bella.  My daughter.  Forever.  Happy two years.

So thankful, So healthy!

 

 

Bella took her very last dose of Chemo on Friday!!!  It seems so strange.  She’s been sick ever since she was placed with us – for the last (almost) two years, all we have known is hospital visits, tons of medication, and E.R. trips.  What is this life with no Chemo?  We can hardly remember!

Saturday we had a party to celebrate our sweet girl being a SURVIVOR!  We invited our family and friends who have played such a crucial role in helping our family through this trial.  Through prayer, meals, babysitting, encouragement – we couldn’t have done it without them.

At Bella’s last hospital appointment while still on treatment!

 

Bella with her doctor and her primary nurse.  After so much time at the hospital, these people practically feel like family!

 

 

We had the party at a frozen custard shop near our house.  Everyone enjoyed frozen custard and cake, and it was so great to get to celebrate with everyone.  I was overwhelmed at having all of these people together who have done so much to love our family and love our daughter over the last two years.

Of course, at the end of March, in only makes sense that there would be a big snowstorm during the party…

 

Photos of Bella from the time she came to us to today.  She looks like a completely different child.  She looks so healthy and happy now!

 

 

 

Nana and Grandpa

 

Ms. Chris, or Grandma Chris as the girls call her.

 

Reading books with Grandpa Richard.

 

 

Bella with our family worker.  She is wonderful!

 

It was a wonderful celebration!  I wish we had taken more pictures, but we were busy soaking up the moment.  We are so thankful, so relieved, so joyful that we are through this trial!  Although we’ll still be making a lot of follow up visits – no more yucky meds, no more lumbar punctures.  Our brave girl made it through!

How do I do it?

 

 

  I get that a lot, with having five kids ages five and under.  In the grocery store, at church, from the other moms at Bella’s school, everywhere I go, I hear, “I just don’t know how you do it!” “I struggle and I only have two!”  “How do you do it?  You must be exhausted!”

Well, I am exhausted.  But that’s not my secret.

If I had the time to stop and talk with the women who comment on how I get it all done, my answer would be something like this:

 

I don’t.  I don’t do it.  It’s not me.  Not at all.

Let me explain.

 

  Today I kid swapped with one of my friends, and we watched each other’s kids at the church.  I watched her kids in the morning, and she watched mine in the afternoon, and that way we each got time to get things done around the house.

  Except after watching the kiddos in the morning, I came home excited to get some cleaning done, and I walked into a completely clean house.  (I actually walked in the door and thought to myself, ‘I don’t remember leaving the kitchen this clean!’)  As it turns out, my friend Shawna, who I kid swapped with, was in on this plan of getting me out of the house this morning.  While I was gone, one of my other friends, Katherine, and my kids’ beloved children’s director at church, Ms. Judy, came and cleaned my house.  Also, another one of my friends, Valerie, wanted to help but had to work, so she sent over enough food to feed an army (which is essentially what we have). 

  Simultaneously, I also have another woman from church who offered to bring us dinner tonight.  And another friend at church who offered to watch my kids this morning for me.  And Bella is playing at the house of her friend from church, who’s parents take and pick Bella up from school.

  We have friends that watch our kids while I take Bella to treatment.  We have a church that pours into our family.  We have family that supports us when we tell them that yes, God is calling us to something even crazier.

 

  How do I do it?  I am part of a family.  A wonderful church family.  And in our family, we love each other, and we do it well. 

  We love each other because we were loved first.  We serve each other because we were served first.  We share in each others burdens because He carries ours.  And it is only because of our brothers and sisters in Jesus that we are able to serve in the way we do.

  But this is not a story of other people secretly doing my housework or randomly bringing this crazy family meals.  This is a story of God’s provision for two broken people who are trying to serve Him.  There have been many times since Bella, and also since Tootaw, came to our house that I have thought, and said, “I don’t know how I’m going to do this.  I can’t do this.  This is too much.  I am too little.  The cancer treatment.  The fetal alcohol syndrome.  The system’s flaws.  Loving these children well.  Getting it all done.  I am not enough.”   To which Jesus replies,

“You are right.  You cannot do this.  You are too finite.  The task is too large.  You grow weary.  The race is very long.  But I am your God, I am your friend, and I am your provider.  I am not finite.  The task is not too large for me. 

And here’s the thing:  You cannot do this on your own, but you are not in this alone, I am with you.  And you can struggle in your flesh, or you can trust me. When you trust me, I will provide for you in ways that you cannot orchestrate on your own.  This is where I have called you, and I will not leave you here alone.”

 

And I am filled with peace. 

He will provide for us in ways we cannot orchestrate.  Like SIX separate individuals from our church family all choosing to serve us undeservedly on the same day.  Loving us tangibly.  Smothering us in grace.

 

So there you have it.

There’s my secret.

Searching for the Light.

 

  After a few days of processing the status of the girls’ case,  this is what I have decided:

 

There is nothing I can do to change what the court has already ordered.

Jesus has a plan in this, and he will use it to glorify Himself and bring redemption if we make ourselves available – that is, if we choose to be obedient.

 

So, I am trying to remain open to opportunities that this may create that otherwise would not have been.

 

This will absolutely give us more opportunities to love on our girls, and to show them that we are here for them and are supporting them regardless of the chaos of their world.  It will possibly give opportunities for processing some difficult stuff before we have to discuss the big ‘A’* word with little souls that will struggle to understand.  (*adoption.)

 

It is possible that this could re-open doors for us to build a relationship with their mother – to learn her hurt, to know her needs, to show her love while we have the opportunity to.  But not to judge her or show anger toward her – although this is SO tempting.

 

Maybe this could end up providing the girls with some closure that they otherwise would not have had?  Maybe?

 

And *maybe* this will give us some time to feel out what kind of open adoption routes are actually feasible and healthy in the future.

 

 

And I am praying that God will work in ways through these challenges that I am not even able to foresee – ways that I can’t imagine – and that through all of this He will protect my girls’ hearts, minds, self-worth, innocence, purpose, and their willingness to be vulnerable.

 

He used what Jesus’ friends and followers saw as the end as the very beginning and to create hope that will never cease.  I believe He can use this in the same way.

Trading what is best for what is good.

 

I think that all too often, we have figured out what would make our lives good (or let society and others do it for us), and maybe without even noticing it, we decide to trade what God has for us for what we have deemed good.

When really, what could be better than what God has for us?

Why would we want to trade what must be best for what we have deemed as good?

 

What God has for us may not be easy, it may not seem ideal, it probably won’t look a whole lot like the “American Dream”,  it may not be what the world would say is best, and it may not be what we had in mind.

But I would imagine that neither did the gospel when it was being lived out by the Son of God.

 

 

Since we have decided to be open to the adoption of Bella and her sister, if it should come to that, I have heard a lot about what I will miss, what won’t be possible, and what I’ll be giving up.

About how busy I’ll be, running myself ragged.  About how I’ll miss one on one time with my kids.  About how I’m going to lose my mind when they’re all teenagers.  What if my kids miss out on __________ fill in the blank.

 

I’m not convinced that we’ll give up anything close to what we’ll gain.

And if this is what God has for our family, those things are all good things, but I cling to the promise that what he has is best. 

 

I could cling to those things, those ideals.  And to be honest, many of those things are things I would love to cling to.

My life looks very different than I ever planned for it to – if it were up to ME Bella wouldn’t even be in our home.  Because when she first came, and her medical/hospital schedule was much more rigorous than we were initially told – I did cling to those things.  I told them she had to leave because, how would I ever have enough “one on one” time with Sylvia and Naomi if I was taking care of such a sick child?  I wanted to cling to those things.

But thank God that through prayer and the support of our worker, God made it work.  And I had to loosen my grip on some of those ideals.

 

And now I have a third daughter that I love incredibly.  That I wouldn’t trade for the world.  And it is because God knew what was best even when I knew what was good.  My family, and how we work looks a lot different than most of the world – but quite frankly, it should.

 

This road he has us on will be hard.  I will fail.  I will face more difficulty than if I just kept things simple.  My life will look different on the outside than most people my age, or at all for that matter.  But I pray that because of the adversity, because it will keep my eyes and my dependence on Him, that it will look different on the inside too.

 

And what He has will be best.

So I will, against the traditional grain, risk giving up what I see as good.

Always Change.

 

  I’ve been a little bogged down as of late with the constant change inherent in this journey we’re on.  It’s part of being a foster parent, but sometimes it weighs on my soul.

 

Bella’s going home in six weeks.

Bella’s not going home.

Up for adopting four kids?

Bella’s going home in eight weeks.

Setting up visits for the four kids we’re adopting.

Crap hits the fan in Bella’s case.

Bella’s not going home.

Relative surfaced.  Have to wait to hear before knowing if we can adopt.

Bella’s visits are drastically shortened.

Just Joking.  You’re not adopting four kids.

Bella’s visit is cancelled.

Can Bella’s sister move in with you?

Mental prep for the possibility of Bella’s case going to adoption.

Throw in visits.  She’s here, she’s gone, she’s here, she’s gone.

Trying to figure out when we’re going to move.  Yes.  MOVE.

 

This is a sampling, just a sampling.

 

To be honest, sometimes I just want to quit it all.  Have a normal life (whatever that means) where we just parent our kids, volunteer some at church, go to work, have a ten year plan (heck, a five year plan would be nice).  Because it wears on me, and it’s hard. 

But, I really, truly believe that most anything worth doing is hard.

And I’m not convinced that in light of eternity, that a ten year plan is really what God has in mind for us, His children.

 

Then, this morning, as I was doing my quiet time, I read this out of My Utmost for His Highest:

“Our natural inclination is to be so precise – trying always to forecast accurately what will happen next – that we look upon uncertainty as a bad thing.  We think that we must reach some predetermined goal, but that is not the nature of the spiritual life.  The nature of the spiritual life is that we are certain in our uncertainty.  Consequently, we do not put down roots.  Our common sense says, “Well, what if I were in that circumstance?”  We cannot presume to see ourselves in any circumstance in which we have never been.

  Certainty is the mark of the commonsense life – gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life.  To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, not knowing what tomorrow may bring.  This is generally expressed with a sigh of sadness, but it should be an expression of breathless expectation.  We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God.  As soon as we abandon ourselves to God and do the task he has placed closest to us, He begins to fill our lives with surprises. 

….We are not uncertain of God, just uncertain of what He is going to do next.  When we have the right relationship with God, life is full of spontaneous, joyful uncertainty and expectancy.  Leave everything to Him and it will be gloriously and graciously uncertain how He will come in – but you can be certain that He will come.  Remain faithful to Him.”

 

 

 

Normal is not his calling on our lives.  Unknown is inherent in a life following hard after Christ.  Lord, help me to live in gracious uncertainty, with joyful expectancy. And thank you for being certain.

Easter 2012.

 

Cuteness abounded this year at Easter.

 

 

As some of the cousins were just old enough to start enjoying the festivities.

 

 

Every. Single. One of our eggs was cracked before they were even hidden for the hunt.  But we got them all dyed first!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sylvia was very excited to do the Easter egg hunt.  But as she found plastic eggs with candy in them, she kept discarding the broken real eggs in the grass as she went.  So when the hunt was over, there were still hard boiled eggs all over the yard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Simon taught the little kids the ropes.  So sweet.

 

 

Cousin hugs are the best.

 

 

 

 

I’m not sure she gets enough love.

 

 

 

 

Sylvie woke us up at 7:00 (I was impressed!) telling us that we had to get up because the Big Bunny was waiting for us in the living room.  We explained that there was no bunny waiting for her in the living room, but maybe a few treats.

 

 

New Easter dresses.

 

 

When Bella got home Sunday night, she had a basket waiting for her too.  I wasn’t sure how much of an Easter she’d get at home.  She was very excited.

 

 

It was a wonderful Easter.  He is risen, and there is no better thing to celebrate.

Hope in something bigger.

We found out that a couple of relatives have come forward for the kids.  We knew this was a possibility, but frankly, it just didn’t seem likely.

 

We are disappointed to say the least.  Frustrated.  Hurting, to be honest.  We have spent every free moment for the last month picturing life with six kids.  Figuring out room arrangements.  Test driving vehicles.  Figuring out vacation plans for the summer.  Preparing our hearts to have six children.

 

Of course, we are praying for and ultimately hoping for whatever is in the best interest of the kids.

 

Initially, it was hard not to be angry.  Still, that would be the easy response.  Why would God present this opportunity only for it to fall through?  Why can’t something just work out?  What does this mean?  What next?

 

But I was reading this morning and was reminded that God does not dangle good things in front of us just to criticize us for wanting it, and then to take it away as some kind of discipline.  This was not in any way, just a tease.

I choose to trust in knowing that he never tells us ‘no’ out of spite or malice, He tells me no only in love, for my best interest, and for His glory.  He tells me ‘no’ because He knows me better than any other, and only He knows what is truly best for me.  He tells me ‘no’ because he has something else in mind that I am too short-sighted to see.

 

I also rest in knowing that I don’t have to figure out ‘what this means’.  Because, quite simply, it just means that he is saying, “not right now, not this, something else.”

I follow Him through disappointment because He is the only one who knows what is on the other side.

 

I am also aware that it is our hearts and our obedience that God wants, not an outcome and not ‘success’.  Whatever I view as the ‘end’ is skewed unless it is simply following Jesus faithfully.  HE is the end.  And he asks me to follow Him through a journey, not to a destination.

 

It is still possible that the kids end up with us if the relatives don’t pan out (like the last three didn’t).  I don’t know, we’ll see.  I pray that whatever is in their best interest is what happens, whether that includes us or not.

 

More learning.  More refining.

I will wait on Him. 

I will find peace in His will.

I don’t want my children to be happy.

I read this post at It’s Almost Naptime around two years ago.  I loved it then.  I love it now.  It is something that I wanted to have for my girls to read in five years, and ten, and twenty, so I thought I’d repost it.  It covers so much of what I have struggled with regarding fostering – and the same conclusions I have come to.  What is it that we really, truly want to be teaching our children, and are we teaching them with words, or with our lifestyles?

 

Amen.

I don't want my children to be happy.

Dear Shepherd, Sissy, Maggie and Ikey,
Recently we were told by people whom we love and respect why they oppose our plans to adopt. One of the reasons given was that we would not be able to pay for your college education.
It's true.
You all have college funds - college funds which recently took a terrible hit - but "they" say that by the time you're 18, college will cost anywhere between $200,000 to half a million dollars each. You might as well know now, we won't be covering that. I'm telling you now, babies.
The people said that the day would come when you would look at us with resentment because you had to apply for school loans while many of your friends got a free ride from their parents.
Maybe you will. Maybe you'll resent us. I really hope not. But maybe I should tell y'all now why your dad and I have decided to do what we are doing.
I know you're going to think I am going off topic (I do that a lot) but several years I saw a story on a TV show about how the latest trend was for parents to give their daughters boob jobs for high school graduation (I don't know what they gave their sons.) When interviewing one of the moms, she said, "I just want my daughter to be happy." And as I tossed a throw pillow at the television, this really huge thought occurred to me: I don't want my children to be happy.
My goal as your mom is not your happiness, sugars. In fact, I spend at least half my day making you unhappy. If I had a nickel for every tear that falls in this home on a daily basis, we wouldn't need to worry about college tuition at all.
Happiness is fleeting, sweet babies. That means it doesn't last. It's a quick feeling that comes from a funny movie or a heart shaped lollipop or a really good birthday present. It's great. I love to be happy. But happiness is a reaction that is based on our surroundings. And our surroundings are so very rarely under our control. Even when - especially when - we think they are.
So no, I absolutely don't want you to spend your life chasing something that has so little to do with your own abilities. You'll just be constantly frustrated.
There are two things I desire for you, precious loves. There are two things that I spend most of my time as a mother trying cultivate in you. Happiness ain't one of them. (This means, sorry, no boob jobs for you.)
The first is, I want you to be content.
Being content is so much different from being happy. Being content is not based on your surroundings. Being content comes from within. Contentment is a spirit of gratitude. It's the choice you make to either be thankful for the things you do have, or to whine about the things you don't have.
Being content and grateful leads to consistent joy.
As you know, because I've told you lots of times, Paul talked about being content. Paul said that he had "learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." And Paul was in some rotten situations, kiddos, really rotten.
How could Paul be content whether he was in prison or if his life was literally a shipwreck? Because Paul was constantly seeking to be in the will of God instead of his own, was constantly sacrificing his own comfort for the sake of the gospel, and was constantly being confirmed, strengthened, and blessed by God because of his obedience. He was given a supernatural power - that means something kind of like magic, God magic - to do things that most other humans could not do. And guess what? The bible tells us (in Ephesians 1) that God will give you the exact same power! If you want it!
Which leads me to my second desire for y'all.
I don't want you to be happy. I want you to be holy. That means, I want you to seek that God-power to make you content. I want you to want the Kingdom of God more than your own kingdom. And that's hard, babies, that is so hard. And that usually means passing up a lot of what the world considers happiness. But it means that you will achieve blessings directly from God that most of the world never dreams of because they are too occupied with the achieving the perfect birthday present!
This means you may be poor, 'in want' as Paul said, and that's okay. It will never, ever be okay with the world for you to be poor. So you'll be up against the world. But not your dad and me, loves, because it was never our goal for you to be wealthy - at least not in the way that the world considers wealthy.
Darlings, we love you so much. You will never even grasp how much we love you until you have children of your own, and then you'll get it, and then you'll apologize for the ways you treated us ;) But our goal is not to please you. Our goal is to please our Heavenly Father. And nowhere in the bible does the Lord command that we save our money to send our kids to college.
But the Lord does command us to care for the orphan around fifty times. He does tell us to care for the poor around 300 times. He does tell us that when we care for the neediest, we are caring for Jesus Himself. And in chapter six of the book of Matthew, He tells us to seek His kingdom first, and let Him worry about the rest, like college tuition. Because it's all His anyway.
They said that one day y'all would resent us for using 'your' college money to go and get your sister out of an orphanage in Ethiopia and bring her home to you.
But I know my babies. Even at your tender ages, I know your hearts, and I have already seen you weep for the least of these. I know the prayers I offer up to God that He and not the world would shape the desires of your hearts. I am trusting Him to answer those prayers.
So, sugarbears - I just don't believe those people.
Love,
Mommy

And then your life changes.

This is going to come out disorganized and a little like word vomit.  That’s how my thoughts are right now, but I wanted to get this all down for memory’s sake.

 

To start at the beginning…

Brian and I have always had a heart for fostering and adoption, but we’ve always just pursued fostering to foster, with the idea that if the opportunity to adopt came up with one of our kids that we’d cross that bridge when we came to it.  In four years of fostering, that opportunity has never presented itself (which I think is pretty rare, really.) and God has grown in us the desire to adopt.  More specifically to adopt a child or children who would otherwise be difficult to find a home for (sibling groups, “older children”, etc.).

There are a number of things regarding our plans, life stage, etc, that lead us to a place where we feel like now(ish) would be a good time for us to adopt.  So, back in August of last year, we casually talked to our worker about our interest in actually pursuing adoption (while still fostering) (obviously.).

Here we are, seven months later, not having heard anything, I was beginning to think that maybe fostering is just what God has for us, and that would be ok.

 

Then…

 

On February 28th our family worker texted me…

“Would four be too many?”

Quickly followed up by…

“If three are school aged and there are no significant behaviors?”

 

Our immediate response was something similar to, “Are you nuts?”  Followed by prayer and conversation.  We decided to look into it.  Our hearts long to be obedient to Jesus.  We’ve been praying to adopt.  This is where we find ourselves. 

 

I should throw in there that we trust our worker very much.  She is even more protective of our family than we are, and I know she wouldn’t have asked us if she didn’t think it was a good match.

 

 

We really hadn’t heard anything about the kids since the initial question from our worker.  They were still looking into one last relative possibility, and nothing was for sure.

Fast forward to Monday, when I got a call from our family worker.

The last relative is being denied an ICPC.  The caseworker is petitioning to get a court hearing sooner than later for a permanency hearing (upon which they could officially start working on an adoption.).

 

 

 

She wanted to know if we want to meet the kids on Sunday.

 

 

 

Ummm…yes.  (?!?!?!)

It will be very casual.  Their foster parents will just introduce us as some of their friends, we’ll hang out for a while and play, and then we’ll leave.

Having maybe just met our children.

our children.

They are ages 3, 4, 8, and 11.  Girl, girl, girl, boy.

 

Holy. Cow.

We would really covet your prayers.  For discernment, for trust, for courage.  But most importantly for hearts like Jesus’ and for Him to plant love in our hearts for our children before we have even met them. 

 

My last thoughts are only,

Wow.  What a beautiful life that God has allowed us.  What a privilege to follow Him.  What an adventure he has us on.  Thank you Jesus.

What we miss.

  I’ve found that it’s a pretty universal feeling for most foster parents with forever children.  You get the call for a new kiddo (or kiddos.) and you say yes.  You feel excited, but then it starts.

The panic.

  What if this means that I won’t have as much time with my forever kids?  What if they miss out on something because my attention is divided?

  What if I miss this?  This precious time.  This precious age.  Memories.  What if it all dissolves in the chaos?  I talked about this feeling a little bit here. 

 

 

  I’m not sure we’ll ever take a placement without having a little bit of this feeling.  But the longer we foster, the more I think it’s just a little silly.  A little off focus.  A little fear driven – and I don’t want fear to lead.

 

  When I look back over the last eight months that Bella has been with us, the last thing that comes to mind are the memories I may have missed out on by her joining our family.

 

  It’s true, I’ve probably had a little less one on one time with Sylvia. 

But I’ve gotten to watch a beautiful sisterhood develop between three girls that otherwise would have never been.  Sylvia and Naomi will always, in their hearts, have a sister in Bella.  And Bella will always have a home here.

 

 

 

The memories we have built these last eight months have been different than they would have been, to be sure.  They may have been more calm.  Maybe we would have had more time to go on outings.  I could have kept my house a heck of a lot cleaner.

 

 

  But I wouldn’t have gotten to watch my beautiful girls playing dress up, going grocery shopping, camping, to the movies, or whatever adventure they choose next.

  I wouldn’t have gotten to watch them build forts with the pillow cushions or “read” each other books.  I would have never been invited to a tea party hosted by two of the prettiest princesses I know.

  Sylvia would not be building memories of pretend play, craft making, and snow ball fights with a sister who will always be a part of who she becomes.

 

To think that I would have somehow been better able to ‘soak up’ this time, this age, this season, without Bella here is something silly my mind has tricked me into. 

 

These memories are beautiful.

 

  They are no less special, no less precious, no less ingrained in my mind as the season of life when I watched my children grow.

  If anything they are more.  Full of even more life.  Full of even more joy.  Full of even more…..memories.

They are different memories, but they are not lesser memories.

  These memories, as different as they may be compared to ‘normal life’, are a blessing, there is no doubt.  A blessing to me.  A blessing to Sylvie and Naomi.  And, I pray, a blessing to Bella.

 

 

  What we miss is not found here.  What we miss is life, when we say no.  When we decide that ‘normal’ must be the best way.  Just look at what we miss.

 

  It is only a reminder to me, that serving Jesus, following Him, is always best.  For us.  For our children.  For our hearts.  Thank you Lord for not allowing me to convince myself that life would be less because of what you call us to.

Special.

We had Community Missions Sunday at my church yesterday, which involved having booths from local ministries set up so that people can learn how to volunteer and get involved.

  For the second year we set up a booth for the agency that we license through in hopes of encouraging others in our church to think about fostering and adopting. 

  For the second year in a row, I heard so many of the same comments when people stopped at our booth.

 

“Oh, I could never do that.”

  “I just couldn’t say goodbye when they left.”

  “Oh, that takes a very special kind of person.  Not me.”

 

  At risk of going on a rant, can I just say something?

 

I am not special.

If you had always known me, I can tell you that you would not have picked me out and said, “Now her, she’d make a great foster parent.”  I am not the kind of person who is just magic with kids.  I’m not that pre-school teacher that you know that can walk into a room of four year olds and have them all happy and chanting how much they love me.  That’s. Not. Me.

 

I can also tell you that I screw up on a regular basis.  I have to ask my kids’ forgiveness daily.  I read as much as I can on therapeutic parenting, and then in the moment I am oh-so-not therapeutic.  I am broken. So broken. 

 

If it took a particularly special kind of person to do this, I think there would be even fewer foster parents than there are.  I know lots of foster and adoptive parents, and lets just be honest, I don’t think that any of us are particularly…special.

 

I was shown a need.  I was given an opportunity.  And I said yes.

 

I don’t say that to toot my own horn.  Goodness knows that the only thing that gets me through most of this life we call fostering is prayer and knowing that God is redeeming all things.

 

In her book Kisses from Katie, Katie Davis writes:

Ordinary people.

He chose Moses.  He chose David.  He chose Peter and Paul.  He chose me.  He chose you.  Common people.  Simply people.  People with nothing special about them.  Nothing special except they said yes.  They obeyed.  They took the task God assigned them and they did it.  They didn’t always do it well, but they said yes, and with His help they did it anyway.

Extraordinary tasks.

Moses was a murderer, a shepherd just trying to mind his own business and move on with his life when he watched a bush catch fire and not burn up.  God wanted to use him to lead His chosen people out of Egypt.  Moses was human and told God that he had the wrong guy.  Moses wasn’t an eloquent speaker, and he was afraid.  But he said yes, and god used him anyway.  The Red Sea parted, bread fell from Heaven, and people believed. 

…

David was a shepherd boy, pretty much the runt of the litter, the very last thought in his father's mind, and despised by his brothers.  God wanted to use him to be the next great kind of Israel.  Though everyone doubted and watched in horror, David said yes, and God use him anyway.  Little David used a stone to take down the giant Philistine.  The Philistines were defeated, and though David continued to make mistakes, God used Him to make Israel a great national and relay His words to many people.

…

Sometimes, the everyday routine of my life feels so normal to me.  At other times, the idea of raising all these children seems like quite a daunting task.  I realize that since I have chosen an unusual path it is easier for outsiders to look at my life and come to the conclusion that it is something extraordinary.  That I am courageous.  That I am strong.  That I am special.  But I am just a plain girl from Tennessee.  Broken in many ways, sinful, and inadequate.  Common and simple with nothing special about me.  Nothing special except I choose to say “yes.”  “Yes” to the things God asks of me and “yes to the people he Places in front of me.  You can too.  I am just an ordinary person.  An ordinary person serving an extraordinary God.

 

  I know that one of the first responses I will see to this is, “Well, God doesn’t call us all to foster.”  And I agree.  That is true.  But He is very clear in the Bible that we are to care for the least of these, that we are to love our neighbors as ourselves, that we are to care for the orphan. (And, for an entirely different post – I don’t think we were necessarily called specifically to foster.  Sometimes you just have to do something.)

  I do think that he has called many more of us to foster than are actually fostering, otherwise I don’t think there would be children waiting for homes, living in shelters, and staying in foster homes that do not have their best interest at heart.

 

So.  There is my very long response to the people who say they could never do it, that they aren’t specifically called, or that it takes a special person.

 

 

  I am not special.  And you don’t have to be.

Christmas 2011.

  Love, love, love spending Christmas with family.  And even with the stomach bug and the flu going through the house, it was a wonderful week.  (Just hoping we're not taking the flu back with us to share with Bella.)  Because of the stomach bug getting Brian and I on consecutive days, we only got to spend one day at his parent's house, which was a big bummer.  I think they appreciated us not sharing the pukes though.

  This year, Brian and I did Christmas as homemade as we possibly could.  With the exception of two presents, all of them were made by either me or Brian.  It took a long time, but we were more excited to share our presents this year than any other.  They were all personal and took lots of time, love, and effort.

Our homemade Christmas was also partly inspired by participating in the Advent Conspiracy.  It was helpful in not just deciding what Christmas shouldn't be, but what it should be. 

As our family grows, we are keenly aware that we are teaching and creating what Christmas will really mean to our kids, and we definitely want to avoid, as much as we can, the consumerist score-as-much-loot-as-you-can Christmas attitude that is so pervasive.  Apart from the fabric store, we didn't set foot in a store for our Christmas gifts this year, and I think that alone will make for a different kind of Christmas growing up.  We had time to focus on waiting expectantly to celebrate the coming of our Savior.  We are so thankful.   
  Even at one gift per person and drawing names, our Christmas gifts added up.  Gifts of time and meaning.

 My long lost family from Seattle.  So good to have them visiting.

 Helping Nana make dinner.

 I'm on the nice list.  Trust me.

 Naomi is clearly having fun.  No, really, this is just the beginning of the drama at our house.  She is crying only because Sylvia was getting close to her.

 Excited to be with my Papa!

This is the part of Christmas where Brian loses his wedding ring and has to rent a metal detector to find it.  More on that later.

It was a wonderful Christmas.  So thankful for family.  So thankful for Jesus.

My broken heart.

 

"...I think Jesus tells us to love our neighbors, not just for our neighbors sakes, but for our own as well, because he knows what happens inside our hearts when we let in those who are vulnerable, needy and even repulsive near us. WE become vulnerable, needy and dare I say it, even repulsive too. Our own motives and shortcomings and entitlement and laziness come to the surface and stare us in the face. And that IS uncomfortable."   -Sarah Dornbos

 

 

This defines so much of what my fostering experience has been.

With every child, God has refined me.  Pruned me.  Poked around in those parts of my heart that I’d just as soon pretend aren’t there.

All of these ugly things start bubbling to the surface.

Trauma tantrums?  Up comes my impatience.

Hours of crying out the hurt?  Out comes my lack of compassion.

Needing to be rightnexttomeeverymomentoftheday?  The hard parts of my heart are exposed, unwilling to love with the intensity of Jesus’ call.

 

In it all I feel him moving.

I am pruning you.  With my help, you will produce more fruit.  Because I love you, I will not leave you in the state you are in.  Trust me.

Some days it is easier for me to love, to serve, to find joy in the brokenness.

But.

Sometimes loving other people’s children is difficult.  Sometimes I struggle with allowing my heart to love them, forcing myself to be what they need, trying to be selfless in the face of pain, struggle, challenge.

I’m being honest.  Painfully, really.  Literally, painful, to my heart that knows the love that has been lavished on me only to struggle to fully love a child.

 

Some will choose to judge in the face of honesty.  Those who have fostered, and those who have not.  To that, I say, I cannot blame you.  My heart is ugly.  My only redemption is Christ.

 

I wish you could meet Bella.  Or maybe you have.  She is beautiful.  Her gentleness and innocence have persevered through so much.  She finds joy after being drug through hell.  She has a loving heart, yet her pain is worn on her sleeve.  She loves pink and purple.  She loves to dress up like a princess.  She loves swinging.  She has her Daddy’s eyelashes.  She HAS eyelashes (!!).  And in His eyes she is beautiful and purposefully created.

 

 

Yet in my heart, sometimes I struggle to let her in, to love her, to be compassionate.

 

I hate it.

And in my brokenness I cry out, “Jesus, prune me! Teach me.  Fix me.”

His love is the only love that will always be enough.  But slowly, he will refine my heart so that my love will look more like his.

 

“This is my command: Love one another.”   -Jesus

Have I let my Kids Down?

 I read this post over at Not Just an Ordinary Life.     

Julie is a mom to 11 kids and has a beautiful heart for children with special needs.  I’m not sure how she does it but she says:

Lest you think we are either crazy or saints, we are neither--just followers of Jesus Christ who desire to follow his commands to take care of the orphans and widows. Any thing that we do is from Him, not of our own strength.

 

Love that.

This post speaks to something I think most moms struggle with.  It was just a good reminder for me – so I thought I’d share.

Have I let my kids down?

Sometimes a phrase catches my eye that makes me think all day. Today, I am already stuck on something...(and I wonder why my kids are perseverative?!)
The phrase..
"And I feel like I have let my kids down..."
This was the first thing I read this morning. It was just one line in a blog post but it made me laugh. This blogger is a Mom who is looked upon as a wonderful example of Christian parenting  and who still feels on some level that she let her kids down. It wasn't a big thing, just something she hadn't introduced them to that she wished she had. If I could be like this mom for just a day, I would be well pleased.
I think the feeling of letting our kids down is universal.
Facebook and blogs don't always help:
I have a sweet friend who homeschools and all of her kids are memorizing the book of James during this school year.  Joy and love for the Lord exudes from this friend. Her posts on facebook remind me of what I wish I had done. Instantly, I feel like I have let my kids down.
I glanced at another blog of a mom this morning...the photos were gorgeous. The moments that most of us don't think to capture on film were all there...they were beautiful and idealic. Have a rushed through parenting and missed the moments like that with my kids? Maybe I have let my kids down..
I have not taught my children to responsibility in the way I should have...I often do too much for them. I have wasted time on things that were not eternally significant...I have worried about what others would think...
I don't make the healthiest meals. I haven't helped them memorize scripture enough. I don't homeschool. Have I let them down?
I wish we would have spent more time listening and praying and worshipping together. I have let them down.
Have I let my kids down? Of course I have. I get annoyed. I get frustrated. I get mad. I am such an imperfect example of Christ's love.
Well, now that I have given them all a reason to enter therapy in the future, I can step back and remind myself that we can not give our children all that they need.. We are human. We are not perfect and to expect otherwise would be a reflection on our own pride. I am a mess. I have said it before...it is still true. I am mess...
a forgiven mess...
a loved mess...
a precious mess...
And...all that really matters is that there is less of me and more of Him. What I have to offer is insignificant compared to what God has in store for them...what He wants to teach them. My imperfections are a reminder that I am in need of a Savior...that we all need a savior. And I have one desire...to have my attempt at parenting glow like a neon sign pointing to the One who will never let them down...
This whole parenting thing is not about me...not about how I have let them down...or built them up. And I am so thankful that I have something to offer them besides my flawed parenting skills...
I can point them to Jesus..and He will never let them down...

I can't stop watching

These beautiful children!
I've been trying to upload videos from Brian's trip for days and blogger hasn't been particularly cooperative.
The children there are taught a small amount of English at school, so Brian was able to talk with them a little bit.  If you'll notice in the videos, they primarily say their names, ages, and what school the attend - so I'm thinking that must be what is taught in English 101.

I watch videos of these happy, growing, loved children, and I am in love with the ministry that we are entering into.

Then I see pictures like this one, recently posted by a fellow orphanage in Uganda (which borders Tanzania) -

 and it is crushing.

But I praise God that there are places for them to go.  Places for them to grow and learn and be loved.  And I praise God that he has made this part of our journey.

I cannot wait to give these necks a squeeze.

  I cannot wait for the blessing of seeing Sylvia and her baby sister have 30+ brothers and sisters.  I cannot wait to love these kids.  I cannot wait to have the opportunity for Christ's love to be poured out through me, and for my daughters to learn what it means to be the hands and feet of Jesus.  

We have a lot to do between now and then.

And most of the time it just seems so overwhelming.

There are things and people here that I will miss more than anything I've ever missed before.

But there are times when I think, "Can we just go now?"