Father of the fatherless

We approached the house after a walk when we saw that Matt was home early from work.  The girls yelled, “Daddy‘s home!” and ran ahead.  Punkin rocked back and forth in his stroller 

“Da, da, da.” 

By the time we got inside, Punkin was struggling to break free and get down.  He toddled as fast as he could into the open arms of the only daddy he knows.  Matt scooped him up, held him tight, and kissed his cheek. 

Many of us didn’t have the perfect daddy as children.  There were no arms to run to - they either held too much, were too cold, too brutal, or weren’t there at all.   Our idea of what a father should be was skewed, complicated, and painful. 

“A Father of the fatherless, and a defender of the widows, is God in His holy habitation.  God sets the only child in a house and He sends out prisoners into prosperity, and the rebels will dwell in the tombs.”
Psalm 68:5-6

Whether we had an earthly father to love us or not, God has proven since the beginning of time that He is, and has always been, the only Father we need.  We can look back over any point in our lives and find Him.  We can see Him holding us in our sorrow, protecting us when we thought we were alone, whispering for us to go on when we thought we couldn’t.  We had a Father all along. 

I watch my husband as he chases Punkin around the kitchen and grab him up while Punkin laughs uncontrollably.  I watch him grab that little hand as he starts to fall.  I watch as he takes him outside to find lizards.  I watch him follow the Lord’s example, and I‘m so grateful for what an amazing man he is in his willingness to love.  But, whether Punkin finds a forever daddy or not, I pray that he knows one day that he’s always had a Father.

God is the first and ultimate Father of the fatherless.  He is the first and ultimate Father of Punkin.  He is the first and ultimate Father of you.

Honesty

It’s been close to a month since Punkin’s come to live with our family.  It’s been one of the most difficult months of my life. 

I’ve come face-to-face with the ugly side of fostering.  Of course, it’s never pretty.  But, I know too much now.  I know there are really good people out there that are trying to fix a system that will probably stay broken.  Happy endings are rare.  Babies are beaten, toddlers are sexually abused.  Ugly.

I miss Beau and Baby.  I was never happier than when I was caring for them.  They were so easy to love.  They were too young to understand anything other than that I loved them completely.  Punkin didn’t have that luxury.  Raised in foster homes his entire life, even at his young age, he has grown to distrust and fear.  The first days he was with us were filled with constant crying.  He was separated from the only siblings he’d ever known, siblings he grew up with.  Everyone was gone.  Except us.  Strangers. 

For the first few weeks we had him, I didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning.  I would lie there, praying.  Begging God to please take this child from my house.  I don’t want this.  I want Beau back, I want Punkin to be with his forever family with his sisters.  And I feel so guilty.  I’m supposed to be there for these children, but now I’m praying for the happy ending that won’t happen.  I’m jaded and I want to quit.  So, what now?

I don’t know.  I wish I did.  I trust that God is in this.  I do.  But, I have no answers. 

So, maybe I wait.  I suck it up and love this child that looks at me like he wants nothing to do with me.  This child that hits and kicks and spits and does the exact opposite of what he knows he should. I love him in spite of how hard my life has become.  I love him because no one else does. 

And hope it’s enough.

Courage

I still miss my Beau.  It’s been over a month now.  More than a month since he smiled at me as I buckled him into his car seat.  More than a month since we watched from our window as he left our lives forever.  

I still display his picture for anyone that will look at it.  I still cry over him.  I still wish things would have been different.  So many of us don’t want to do anything that might hurt us or break out hearts.  It’s a common fear, a valid fear. 

But, in our Bible study on Saturday, our teacher spoke of how our pain and heartache are reminders that we’ve had the courage to love.  I don’t feel so courageous.  But as I wait by the phone for the next call, I do know that it's always worth it. 

And when my heart hurts to think about my little love, I'm reminded that I loved him well.

A Better Story

A phantom cry, the indentation where he used to sleep in his bed, my favorite onesie, a random bottle in the dishwasher.  I miss him.  Every day.

Beau is gone.   He had a tragic, lonely, sad story from his very beginning and I wanted to change his ending.  What’s so hard is that I didn’t want to be a part of his story for three and a half months, I wanted to see his life played out all the way through.  I want to see his happy ending, not just play a part in it. 

As it is, we aren’t just a part of his story, he’s a part of ours.  My mistake was thinking that I had anything at all to do with the script.  It turns out that as much as I want to write this book, I’m not the Author.  And the bigger picture, through the pain, will always be that there’s a better story to be told.  We just haven't glimpsed those pages.

“Have the courage to live under strain and pain to be part of a better story.  A larger story.  Don’t wimp out.”  Beth Moore.

As weak as I feel right now, I don’t plan on ever wimping out.   There’s a larger story to be told.  Keep reading…

Impossible

As I was lying in bed last night, my heart was pained and racing.  Panic and sadness were taking over.  My fears had set in and the tears falling over the bridge of my nose onto my pillow were screaming that my faith has not been perfected. 

We’re meeting with Beau’s attorney today.  In the middle of the night, the words I would say to him kept rolling through my mind.  I was making the argument that the best thing for this child is to stay with us.  Forever.  He’s bonded to me, to the girls, to Matt.  We would make sure he would have the very best his whole life long.  Jesus, love, faith, stability, comfort, character, strength.  We’d provide him with a wonderful education.  Matt would teach him to play football.  We’d all teach him to laugh.  And at 2:00 am, I begged God to let us find out today that there really is hope that we’ll get to keep him, in the face of everyone that has said that it’s hopeless, impossible.

I started thinking about that word.  “Impossible.”  It means, “beyond the bounds of possibility.”  I began to wonder if maybe, “impossible” isn’t one of God’s favorite words because it gives Him the opportunity to show His power and might.  As I look over my life and who I once was, my salvation seemed impossible.  Rhyan being able to hear and speak after the doctors told us she was profoundly deaf, seemed impossible.  Keeping our first house after Matt lost his job twice in one year, seemed impossible.  My niece living after arriving three months early, seemed impossible.  Yet, I’m saved, Rhyan hears, we have our house, Lily’s alive.  “Impossible” is meaningless to my God.

This morning, I’m feeling stronger.  My heart isn’t quite so twisted and squeezed.  I’m not crying.  I’m praying that Beau’s attorney says the words I want to hear.  And I’m thanking Him for the privilege of ever knowing Beau at all. 

I love this baby boy like he’s my own.  I’ve known him for a lifetime.  And I’ll follow Christ today, like I have from the beginning.  But, today, I’m not just walking behind Him.  I’m holding onto Him with all I have.

I have set the Lord always before me.  Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Psalm 16:8

La’akov.

Silence

I’m walking in His footsteps so closely now that I can’t see anything in front of me, nothing on the side.  All I see is Him, protecting me as He walks before me. 

Beau is still here.  That’s a miracle in itself.  It’s one of the most blatant miracles I’ve witnessed in my life.  I was getting phone calls nearly every other day regarding his leaving.  Visitations were constantly being set up with the stranger, visitations with his mother, visitations with his father.  It’s been more than three weeks now and I haven’t heard a word.  Not an email, not a phone call.  Nothing. 

The silence has lulled me into the belief that Beau is staying with us forever.  Two year ago in November, I felt that God was promising me a son.  I told him I wanted another girl, but that’s not what I heard.  Through His Word, through prayer, through the prayers of my children.  I heard a promise.  I’ve lived on faith since that time that His promise would come true.  

When Baby left, I questioned whether I heard correctly.  In my mind, Baby was the one for us   My faith was rattled the day I put him in his car seat and watched his case worker drive away.  But, Beau was born the day I said good-bye to Baby.  One hope is gone, one is born. 

I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future.  Even tomorrow is a question mark.  It’s a difficult way to live, but what better way to completely and fully trust in Jesus with all my heart, soul, mind and strength.  I literally have no other choice.  

These past three weeks have made me stronger.  I’m following with sure steps, solid footing.  And one thing about following so closely to my Lord - if I do hear the news I never want to hear and I stumble in my pain, I know I'll never fall.

The Desires of My Heart

It’s been two and half weeks since Beau came to our home.  When he arrived, all I could think was that I hadn’t waited long enough after Baby had gone.  I was missing him and I didn’t feel like I would ever be able to love Beau the same way.  I could look after his needs, care for him, and keep him safe.  But I couldn’t love him.

The girls were learning a Bible verse that hung on the refrigerator,
“Delight yourself in the LORD and He will give you the desires of your heart.”  Psalm 32:4

I’ve known that verse for years, and I understand it.  God won’t give us the selfish things we desire because we ask for them.  He will put His own desires in our hearts because He knows what’s best for us.  So, I prayed.

It didn’t take more than an hour or so, and Beau was making his way into my heart.  After two and half weeks, I’m standing where I was with Baby.  Loving him like he's my own and wanting what’s best for him, trusting that God will work it out because all I have right now is faith.

Beau’s case worker is doing a home study for a non-relative placement.  A friend of his mother’s wants him and he could leave us by next week.  But, Beau’s case is much different than Baby’s.  It’s more dangerous and requires much more trust with his protection.  The thought of him leaving makes me physically ill because I honestly don’t know that he will be safe away from here.  I look at his little face and tiny body and cover him with prayers for his safety, because only God can keep him from harm. 

So, here I am again.  Praying for God’s will, preparing for a broken heart, saying that I won’t do this again because it hurts too bad. 

And knowing that if he does leave us, I will say ‘yes’ when that next phone call comes in.  Because I delight myself in the LORD.  And He is giving me the desires of His heart.

Stubborn

My husband is stubborn.  After our first argument, all those years ago, I expected him to immediately apologize.  He didn’t.  Not only did he not apologize, he expected me to apologize.   We apparently worked things out, but I don’t remember it being easy.

Matt’s still stubborn.  But, today his stubbornness is used for good.  He’s stubborn about how we spend our money, how we raise our girls, and he’s stubborn, always, about putting God first in all of our decisions. 

More than a year and a half ago, we began the conversation about fostering.  At the time, we both said we wanted to wait.  A year ago, classes were beginning and Matt told me he’d take the classes, but he still wasn’t sure we would foster.  The classes began and he said he wouldn’t mind fostering, but he didn’t want to adopt.  After 12 weeks of classes, he said he wanted to foster, and if God put adoption out there for us, he was willing. 

Then Baby came into our home.  My stubborn man got a little melty.  But, when the circumstance came up that we would have to take Baby’s brother or he would have to go to his brother’s foster family, Matt said we simply couldn’t take in two children.  So, I prayed.  I wanted both boys.  And then, all of a sudden, we began planning our house for two little boys.  We figured out beds and car seats and in what seemed like only moments, Matt’s heart was changed. 

God loves stubborn hearts.  Stubborn hearts show His power to work in mighty ways.  I’ve seen a man that didn’t to want to foster at all tell me last week that he was ready to take in another baby, even before I was ready.  God.  It can only be God.   

And it can only be good.

Spinning

Matt and I were alone last night after the girls had gone to sleep.  Nothing really reminded me of Baby.  He’s just always in my thoughts.  In the quiet of house, I told Matt that I missed that precious little boy.  I wasn’t expecting a response.  Matt’s very good at letting me vent or share without needing to fix things.  So when he told me that he missed him too, I was surprised.  They were the perfect words and I needed to hear them.  I’m not alone.

This morning, I walked into Baby’s room for the first time since he left.  His little clothes were on the dresser.  His crib just like I left it when I woke him up Tuesday afternoon to put him in a car seat on his way away.  I felt the emotion like a physical blow and it took my breath.  I’m not sure this is something everyone can understand.  I feel almost silly describing it.  He was never my child, how can I love him so much?  But, whether I can explain it or not, I just do.

Matt and I had decided to wait a month or so to heal up a bit before we took in another child.  But, when I received that call from our licensing agent today that there was a newborn girl that needed a placement, I didn’t have to think about it too long.  Of course we’d take her. 

By then end of the day, the case managers had found a home for her with a sibling.  I wasn’t only walking in the dark today, I was spinning.  But, I’m so grateful for many things.  I know that I’m getting stronger in the disappointments, I’m immediately giving my hurt to God and telling Him with a smile “Your will be done.”, and I’m following Him at a closer distance.  But, what I’m most grateful for is that even though I felt guilty to think of bringing another child into our home, as irrational as that is, I know that I can.  And we will.   

Maybe even tomorrow.

  

Heartbroken

Hearts can be shredded and shattered, and still there is peace.  I know, I’m there.  Baby is gone, and for as difficult as it is to even speak, I have peace.

I think of how he effected our family.  Rhyan seems to have aged three years.  At times, her maturity has taken me by surprise.  She was the first to want to hold him and watch him while I made dinner or cleaned.  She was the one that was in his little face the most, smiling and talking with him.  She kept her mind on God’s will and prayed over him always.

Evynn probably shocked me the most.  She loved Baby and wanted to play with him often, but her main focus was on helping me.  She was the queen organizer and was first to want to set the table or clean the house.  She had a mama’s heart, but cared about her own mama’s heart, as well. 

Matt became attached, for as hard as he tried to distance himself.  Over the last weeks, he would come into the room and kiss Baby’s head.  He loved to make him smile and had his fair share of holding time. 

This child helped me see my family differently.  I don’t love them any more than I did.  But, I love them better.  I appreciate the little things and I’m so grateful the countless blessings that make up my life. 

We are going to miss Baby more than I can express.  I can’t trust myself around anyone right now, even to talk to anyone, because I keep breaking down.  I’ve put all of his things out of sight and closed the door to his room.  The pain is coming in waves.  One second I’m functioning and living, the next I’m fully overwhelmed.  Thankfully, I’m content to know that he is going to his family and that they will love and protect him.  I know that because that has been my consistent prayer all these weeks. 

So, I will take some time to let my heart heal.  I will clean my house, get back into my work-out routine, focus on some writing projects, eat regular meals.  I will not clean bottles, wash burp rags, change diapers, or haul car seats.  My life is, once again, going to be easy. 

And one day I might just find myself being happy about ‘easy‘. 

But, today is not that day.

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; He rescues those whose spirits are crushed.  Psalm 34:18

Peace

My favorite time of the day is early in the morning.  It’s when Baby is the biggest cuddle bug.  He rests his tiny head on my shoulder and nuzzles, completely calm. 

Evynn comes down soon after and we put him in his bouncer.  We have a contest to see who can make him give us the biggest smile.  Rhyan eventually makes her way downstairs and joins us.  She’s the best at getting him to ‘talk‘.  He gets sleepy about the time we’re ready to begin school.  The rest of the day rushes forward, but in those few special moments, there is perfect peace.

Peace.  I have it.  I don’t understand it, and in some strange way I don’t know if I want it.  Baby is, again, scheduled to leave.  Monday’s court date is to put him in a relative’s home.  Again, I’m preparing my heart to say ‘good-bye’.  Again, I’m getting his things together and making all there is with our time together.  Peace almost feels like a betrayal to how much I care for him.  How can I feel peace if my heart’s on the edge, ready to shatter? 

I know the answer.  It’s in His word.  And He is His word.  Peace.  It surpasses my understanding and keeps me hoping for all that He’s promised - to keep this child safe, to love him completely because He formed him in his mother’s womb; to guard him and keep him safe in the shadow of His wings.  In my peace I find hope, because I continue to search for His will and lean on the knowledge that He’s known this baby boy before the foundation of the earth and He knows him through eternity. 

Peace.  I have it.  I don’t understand it.  And whether I feel like I want it or not, I’m so, so very grateful for this PEACE.


Isaiah 26:3 You will guard him and keep him in perfect and
constant peace whose mind is stayed on You, because he commits himself to You, leans on You, and hopes confidently in You.

A Different Kind of Mother's Day

There will be another court date tomorrow.  Baby is going to another foster family who is already caring for his sibling.  We wanted to keep him and bring his sibling into our home, but crazy, bizarre circumstances are preventing it.  As of this moment, there is absolutely no chance we will keep him.  But, I’ve seen God do the impossible and I know that He is bigger than this situation.  He can move this mountain.  And if He chooses not to, what I can be sure of is that we’re all exactly where we belong.

I’ve spent the last days, so grateful for this time to prepare my heart to say ‘good-bye‘.  I’ve stared at him and studied his face.  I’ve memorized the rolls on his little arms, the color of his eyes, the way he smiles and looks away like he understands shy.  I’ve sung to him and prayed over him and whispered the name of Jesus again and again, hoping some day it will echo into his future and rest on his heart.  I watch as he looks for me when I enter the room, and I talk to him when he talks to me and give his cheeks kiss after kiss.  For one Mother’s Day, I had a son.  It’s been a day of gratitude and cherished memories, tears and heartache. 

It doesn’t look like I will be the one to raise him up to know and love Jesus.  So, when I hold him one last time before placing him in another’s arms, I will give him a Bible verse to take with him.  And a song that is my prayer for him his whole life long.

I pray the Lord will hold you close and keep you through the night,
That you will wake up smiling in the early morning light,
That He will always comfort you and make you brave and strong,
I pray that you will follow Him your whole life long.

I pray that you will grow up to be wise and good and true,
I pray that you will please the Lord in everything you do,
I pray that you will hear His voice and learn to sing His song,
I pray that you will follow Him your whole life long.

I pray that you will follow Him,
I pray that you will follow Him,
I pray that you will follow Him your whole life long.

I pray the Lord will bless you with His presence every day,
I pray he will protect you every step along the way,
Help you love what's right and lead you far away from wrong,
I pray that you will follow Him your whole life long.

I pray that you will follow Him,
I pray that you will follow Him,
I pray that you will follow Him your whole life long.

Twila Paris, Your Whole Life Long.


Psalm 121:5-8
5  The Lord watches over you.
The Lord is like a shade tree at your right hand.
6  The sun won’t harm you during the day.
The moon won’t harm you during the night.

7  The Lord will keep you from every kind of harm.
He will watch over your life.
8  The Lord will watch over your life no matter where you go,
Both now and forevermore.

Amen.

Kristi

My sister is my best friend in the whole world.  As of six weeks ago, we talked every day, several times a day.  My routine was to put the girls in the car, head to the gym and hit my speed dial on the way out of our neighborhood. 

We talked about everything.  She was pregnant and I was going through licensing for foster parenting.  Our conversations hinged around our major life events.  We talked paint colors for bedrooms, kids, sports, school, husbands, weekends.  We vented when we were angry or frustrated.  I liked to make her laugh because her laugh was contagious and to make her laugh was to make me laugh. 

And then I got her email…

“Having contractions.  Going to hospital.  Pray.”

I called her phone repeatedly, until her mother-in-law finally answered.  “She’s in the labor room, having the baby… Oh wait.  She just had her.  I’ll call you back.”

She was only 27 weeks.  Three months early.  I didn’t know if the baby was alive.  Kristi went through natural birth after two C-sections and I wasn’t sure if she was okay.  I stared at the phone, willing it to ring.  Finally, her mother-in-law called back.  Lilly Sue was 2 pounds, 12 ounces and being transferred to the NICU. 

Days later, we were licensed and we got our first placement.  An infant boy that we fell instantly in love with. 

Both of our lives have been completely altered and our phone conversations are much less frequent.  She tries to call me on her way to the hospital every morning, but I’m usually feeding the baby and starting school by the time I notice the missed call.  I immediately call her back, knowing that she’s already in the NICU, staring at the monitors, watching Lilly take a breath.  A breath.  A breath. 

We connected the other day and I told her that our sweet boy was leaving.  Our difficulties are very different, but revolve around two beloved babies.  She told me how tired she was of crying in front of strangers and her kid’s friends.  I told her I was tired of crying during my runs and in the baby section of Walmart.  We’re both such messes. 

But, we’re God’s messes.  We send each other scripture and songs that speak to us.  We’ve grown in our faith like nothing I’ve seen and we still have each other.  We still talk and vent and discuss life.  The laughter’s missing, but it will come back when it’s time.

She told me the other day that she was tired of being so weak in all of this.  Me, too.  But, someday, when this passes and we’re looking back on it, our strength is going to take us by surprise.

Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

Walking in the Darkness

Psalm 119:105  Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.


Feeding the baby in the middle of the night can be treacherous.  Once he's been fed and I place him gently in his crib, I turn off his light and make my way back to our bedroom.  It’s pitch black.  My thick-lens, emergency glasses are of no use.  I put my hands out in front of me, feeling my way back to bed.  But, my feet get tangled in a shirt on the floor and my shoulder pounds into the wall. 

That is foster parenting.  All is going according to plan around us - hearings are scheduled, family is located,  kids are assigned to new homes.  But, we’re left in the dark, arms flailing while trying desperately to find our way.  We trip and are bruised, waiting for someone shed some light on what’s happening. 

We don’t know what’s going to happen with this beloved child.  From what we’ve been told, family is no longer an option, but things change quickly and we’re left to wonder.  Will they come get him this morning?  Will I have to say ‘good-bye’ with only a moment’s notice?  Will he be here a few days or a few months? 

It’s not a problem with the system, it just is, and no one’s at fault.  But with so little light, all we can do is take one step at a time in the darkness. 

La’akov.

Blessed Be His Name

We sang this in church yesterday. 

Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name

Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's 'all as it should be'
Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say


Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

He's leaving.

He’s leaving.

Our foster parenting trainer said our first child would be the hardest to lose. I can’t imagine it being any worse. We told the girls we'd have to say 'good-bye' to him last night after we found out that he’d be going home with a relative sometime next week. Rhyan, with wisdom greater than mine, said that he needed to be with his family. That’s what she would want. But, I don’t know his family. I know ours.

Matt told me last night that if I didn’t hurt, then I wasn’t doing this right. My sweet friend said that if I had never known this precious infant, I wouldn’t have ever known to cover him in prayers for forever.

So, I’ll hurt and I’ll pray. And somewhere, after some time, I’ll pick myself up and wipe the tears from my face.  And find the strength to do this again.

Facing the Hurt

I couldn’t bring a child into our home without loving him with all my heart.  I had to give him all of me.  It’s not the best way to be as a foster mother.  But, even in the pain, I believe it’s the only way to be.

I’ve prayed for a year and a half that God would put a child in our lives that we would adopt.  I prayed that we wouldn’t have to hurt, we wouldn’t have to face challenges or trials.  I believed that He would be powerful enough to do what everyone said couldn’t be done.  And He is.  Even if His answer is ‘no’.

I know He can move mountains and Baby could stay with us. But, if the best place for him is with another family, then I trust my God.  He is faithful, He is just, and thankfully, He is all-knowing.  He’s known this child since before he was conceived and He knows him into eternity.  He makes no mistakes. 

So, I am preparing myself.  I stare into Baby’s eyes and think of all that the other care-givers don’t know.  They don’t know his cries.  They don’t know when he’s tired and when he just wants to look at something different.  They don’t know how to rock him when he’s ready for sleep or that he needs to be bundled with one arm out.  They don’t know that he loves the fan and car rides and walks and baths.  Or how he looks for me when he hears my voice and he smiles at the girls and quiets down when he sees them.  He’s a part of our family.

And then he won’t be. 

I’m facing this heartache to care for this child, to give him a safe place and a loving home.  But beyond that, my first and always my first, purpose is to glorify and honor God in every situation.  I hope I’m doing just that, because He is worthy.  I trust Him completely to guard, love, cherish and protect this baby so that one day he will know His name and love Him to change the world.  I trust Him to give him what I won’t be able to.

“I will cover you with my hands and protect you.”  Isaiah 51:16

Guardian

We have a very strict ‘no phone calls at the table’ policy.  Dinner is a special time when we focus on each other and talk about our days.We were just placing dinner on the table when Rhyan asked, “If we get a call for our foster baby, will you answer it.” 

The phone rang.

Just like that. Matt and I looked at each other and laughed.  No way.  I looked at the number and didn’t recognize it.  The voice on the other end changed our lives forever.  She said she had an infant that needed a place to stay.  She was removing him from his home that evening. 

We told her we’d have to call her back while we prayed about it.  I already had peace in my heart about this little boy, but we got down on our knees as a family and prayed for guidance and direction.  He guided us to say ‘yes’. 

We knew his approximate age, that he was a boy, but we knew nothing else about him.  We didn’t know his race, his circumstances, his name, date of birth.  Nothing. 

We waited a very long time.  I stayed by the phone.  Dinner was completely forgotten. By 8:30, we put the girls to bed and promised to wake them when he arrived.  At about 9:30, we received the call that the case manager was on her way.  The extraction had been violent and she was frazzled.  I was beside myself.

I waited out at the end our driveway and flagged her down.  She was still visibly upset when she walked around to the baby.  Seeing him for the first time was surreal.  Without information, I had no idea who to envision.  Now I was seeing him and he was beautiful.  And sleeping. 

I feel in love with him that night.  I know it doesn’t seem possible, but I also know that through God all things ARE possible.  I pray for his little life every second I think of him, look at him, feed him, change him.  He is cherished and treasured while he’s in our home.  I pray for God’s will in his life, that he will go to the home that God chooses.  But my heart is screaming, “Please, Lord, let it be ours.” 

What I am sure of is that God loves him.  God loves me.  He loves my husband, He loves my children.  And I WILL trust Him.

To this baby in our care, from God,  “I am with you and will protect you wherever you go.”  Genesis 28:15

Waiting

It's been a week and a half since we became licensed foster parents. As crazy as it sounds, I'm so grateful that God's giving me this extra time to emotionally prepare. We've waited so long, but the idea of being approved has had its own set of readiness issues. We can literally be within hours of having a baby in the house. It's real now.

So, I'm cleaning, praying and getting my heart ready. The longer we go without a baby, the longer it is before someone is in the desperate situation that took their child away. I'm fine with the wait. But, thanks to God, I'm ready when it's over.

His Will

It’s been such a long time since I’ve written. My plan was to document every little step along the way through our foster parenting journey. But the little steps have been excruciating and my energy has been utterly stolen over the past few months. Somehow I believe that my inability to write will speak louder than if I would have written every day.

The frustrations along the way were expected. Becoming a licensed foster parent isn’t a perfect process. What set me reeling is the emotional hurricane that swelled beside me as I began my trek. It’s painfully obvious that before God was going to use me in this way, He was going to fix me. And I was more broken than I realized.

When we look at our lives through the lenses of society, it’s so easy to become dissatisfied. We seek the approval of others, desire to be noticed, accepted and loved. We want. But when we look through the lenses of the eternal, we see that all those things are nothing compared to fulfilling the purpose of God. We can see the chaff compared to His will. I had to stop looking through the lenses of this world and see through eyes from heaven. I had to get the focus off of me and put it directly on God. I had to want, but I had to want what He wanted.

And that has been my lesson learned through this experience. God couldn’t use me until I had my priorities in place. It was a difficult process, but one that I wouldn’t change for anything. I slip back into brokenness now and then, but I finally feel healed for the first time in my life. He can use me now. How could I ask for anything greater than that.

This is going to be difficult.

I haven't posted simply because there hasn't been anything to post. We have been in limbo for what feels like forever.

In the stillness and quiet of this arduous wait, I know God is with me. I feel His presence, in a way I've never felt. Almost like a warrior, standing guard next to me as I sit and just remain. And I need a warrior right now.

One thing that is painfully obvious is that if you're going to do God's will, Satan will come at you full force. No holding back, the attack is on. It's sneaky and mean, fierce and persistent. So, since October, I've been under the shadow of His wing. Sometimes moving away from His protection, living with the assault. But, the key is recognition. We have a long road ahead of us. The battle has been raging for a few months, but it's really just getting started. And that's not only okay, that's exactly where I want to be. Because it means I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

This life is not meant to be easy. We aren't meant to be content with the simple and mundane. We are meant to live for the glory of the Lord. And there just isn't anything easy about that.