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.