Sunday, September 18, 2016

Lucky 7

Seven months.  I went from a post about 5 weeks to 7 months. I suppose it goes without saying things have been a 'little' busy.

8 children will do that to you. 

The past seven months have been like a whirlwind of appointments, school papers, dinners, birthdays and dirty socks.  And it has taken a toll on all of us.  The foster kids, me, my husband, my marriage, and my children.  I wasn't quite prepared for the toll it has taken on our children.  I suppose that was foolish to think we could walk through this big huge thing and not have it weigh in on each of us.

I'm certain none of us would change a thing.  We would walk this path again and again if it is in God's will.  But each of these 8 children, I know, will breathe a sigh of relief when they get their space back and life returns to whatever 'normal' will be when this is over.

And that opportunity to see 'normal' should come in about a month.  Although I question if anything will ever feel normal again.  Will our home ever feel like our home again?  I kind of hope not.  Let me explain.

This space that God has blessed us with, this house out in the country with the huge garage and the amazing back yard?  It was never ours to begin with.  But for 12 years we lived in it like it was.  Just living normal life and (me) complaining about wanting more space or just one more room or an updated all seems so silly now.  Because none of what we were doing was honoring to God.  We weren't utilizing His home well at all most days.

In a matter of less than a week, we doubled the size of our home.  We went from a family of 5 to a family of 10 and God orchestrated the entire thing.  And ultimately, we still have plenty of space.  And we still have too much stuff.  That is going to be a focus for me, to remove all of this excessive stuff that is weighing down my home. 

This post is jumbled and weird, kind of like my mind right now.  The past seven months have taken a toll on me emotionally.  I was good I would say for the first five months.  But then I let more of 'me' take the focus and less of God and here is where I have landed.  Incredibly sick (I caught a cold from the kids that I can't shake), exhausted and feeling malnourished.  I am ready for a break- for time to regain strength, family time, rest, and reconnection.  And soon that time should come.  And then we will pray for what it is God wants next.  More foster kids?  Missions work? Community service?  Whatever it is, I pray we can receive it with open arms.  Jesus please let these people have open hearts to whatever it is you want next.

I was at Aldi yesterday trying to grab a few random things I needed for the weekend.  I felt so bad I didn't want to rummage for a quarter for a cart.  I just needed a few things.  Of course I didn't have a list, so I instead thought of single items and then lapped around the store looking for them.  On one of my laps I spotted a jar of basil pesto, and I grabbed it.  I mean YUM!  When I finally gave up on whatever it was that I could be forgetting I got to the register and lined up.  And after a few moments that tiny jar of basil pesto fell from my overfull hands and shattered on the ground at my feet.  I balanced my bag of onions, can of olives, coffee creamer, and croutons in one arm while I dug for a package of wetwipes in my bag.  And I began mopping up the broken glass and the yummy pesto.  And then I gathered that yucky mess into my hands and returned to waiting in line.  The woman in line ahead of me had a leather legal pad with a neatly organized list and each item had been carefully crossed off.  She was removing her items from her cart and organizing them on the conveyor belt.  And once she was finished, she removed her neatly folded stack of reusable bags from her cart so that once she was checked out she could begin bagging her purchases.

Meanwhile basil pesto is running down my arm.

And I was angry.  She had her quarter for a cart, a list for her needs, and a game plan to get it home.  I just happened to be driving by.  A lack of control was all I could focus on.  In the line next to me was an older woman wearing khaki pants and a pressed golf shirt.  Her hair was obviously freshly done.  She had a bag of onions and a bunch of bananas.  She was completing her pantry needs for her family while representing them well while doing it.  I was looking so ragged I contemplated hiding from a friend I ran into,

What has happened over the last months to me?  I suppose I have just lost the ability to get ahead of this train and organize the needs.  Instead it has passed me and I am chasing after it throwing what tiny offerings I have onboard.  If I have dishonored God with my lack of ability to keep up, I am terribly sorry.  If I have taken too much control into my own hands, I am sorry.  But I am not sure it is any of that.  I think it is just coming to a close- and God wants to remind me who is in control.  And it certainly isn't me :0)

If you are still reading this- I apologize.  This is the first moment I have had to write and I am just plinking my weird thoughts out here with no thought or proofreading.

Fostering broken people is hard, yo.

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