Holy cow! Its been almost a year since I've updated here. Not that it matters, this is more for my heart and I don't think anyone reads it anyway. This is a safe space where I can dump it all out and revisit it later if necessary.
Our little man did in fact move to his aunts house in November. Leaving him there that day was so hard. I know he thought we would be back in a couple days, just like normal.....except this was it. And when I reached out to see if we could see him our request was denied. I was heart broken, I actually slipped into a deep depression. My spirit was broken and crushed, I missed him so much. My heart ached even in my sleep. It was deep grief for someone who was still living and breathing right across town....I just couldn't see him.
Three months after he left, we got a message. A beautiful message that made my heart sing! We could pick him up to come with us to celebrate Emily's 14th birthday. She was not handling his absence well at all. She had become depressed as well. The enemy used her to make me question whether or not inviting kids into our home was the right thing to do or not. It took quite a time for me to imagine opening our door to another kiddo in need. Because opening that door made my heart hurt too bad.
Walking in the door to his aunts house was like a welcome stream in the desert....he screamed my name and ran to me and I swept him into my arms. And I loved on him. We get to see him every few weeks- it is a gift. He is a gift. God is good.
A text from no where read "a 5 week old baby?" and before I knew it I was on my way to Bloomington to bring a sweet miracle to our home. Her stay was short, just two short weeks, but sweet because she was returned to her momma. And having a baby in the house was precious! Every one was smitten with her- it was amazing. I must admit, that first night she was gone I couldn't wait to SLEEP!! I was exhausted!
Then in April we got a call for a 3 year old little boy....I was 4 days out from having knee surgery but Dan (and the kids) were certain it would be fine. So we said yes and quickly moved that baby bed to a toddler bed.
Bringing a pre-schooler into the house is never easy. But it does seem to be our sweet spot, the kids love having a small person to dote over and Dan and I love it as well. It clicks.
During my surgery I suffered a stroke, A STROKE!! I still can hardly believe it. My left side of my body was paralyzed quite some time in recovery and then I was sent home for my 3 day recovery from surgery. I had no idea why my brain was so confused or I didn't recognize my own hand. Quickly we learned (through a 4 day hospital stay) that my short recovery would be more like a year and it was going to be work!!! And boy has it been. I have struggled just to be able to type anywhere close to normal. And having a 3 year old doesn't provide lots of opportunity for rest.
Ultimately we felt like God wanted him to stay... so here he is. I make pbj sandwiches and give baths, we have sippy cups and dinosaurs. I wouldn't trade this crazy train ride for anything in the world, but the tears I cry and the prayers I send up tell a different story. It is hard, stepping into the brokenness of foster care is hard. But we will continue climbing onto the broken shards of families lives as long as God tells us to. And hopefully it makes some kind of a difference for His Kingdom.\
Tuesday, July 24, 2018
Thursday, October 5, 2017
The weight of the loss
I feel guilty.
Guilty because I am grieving the loss of a little man that is still here.
It's been a minute since I've posted my thoughts here, so let me rewind a little.
We have had the pleasure of having a little tiny man with us for the past six months who just recently turned two whole years old. He has sparkly blue eyes that I swear look right into my soul. He captures the attention of anyone who will look his way and he flashes the most beautiful smile. A smile that just makes your heart skip an entire beat. All the while those eyes of his are processing the world around him.
We foster to stand in the gap for families. While parents try to heal and become whole, we love on their littles and try to provide the same healing to them. But the plan is never forever.
Until one day our caseworker said we had to quick decide if we would want him forever. Because of an impending jail sentence and various dcs rules, he may need a forever home. And I wasn't so sure that I was on board. Everyone else in our home was 'YES!', but to be honest- having a toddler has been a whole lot of work. Work that I haven't really had to do for a while. So selfishly, I just wanted us to think about it. But as I prayed, that door opened in my heart and I began to envision a life with a little tiny person in it. A world where I would be almost 60 years old when they graduated high school. One where I would need my reading glasses to read his sweet writings in elementary school. One where this momma of 3 became one to 4.
If it was necessary, that is.
But once that door is opened, it just kind of stays that way.
Not because of this decision, but just because it is natural, I have fallen in deep smitten love with this child. His sweet way of humming when I sing to him, his excitement when one of my kids runs up the driveway to shower attention on him, the way he rocks his tiny behind up in the air when he sleeps to self soothe. Head over heels in love with him.
I didn't believe it was possible to love someone like they were your own child when they weren't. I just assumed that since I have had my own children and I know that bond, that I wouldn't be able to replicate it exactly in another child. But when I realized how much I love this tiny person, I thought for sure it was Gods way of preparing me to keep him forever. His way of making my heart and hands willing to take on the huge job of raising another child from toddlerness. I mean if it came to that. Because his parents were growing and changing and learning.......my prayers have been for them to step up for this sweet child. Be the amazing parents that he deserves. Allow him the family he was born to. But if it was needed- only if- then we would gladly wrap around him as his family.
Imagine the punch in the gut it was to meet a family member who has been trying to get custody of this little guy in court one week.
I was assured that he wouldn't be moved. That in the protection of his best interest, it would be crucial that he stay where he is thriving and healing so well.
But that wasn't true. And in a matter of just a few weeks, this little person who fills the biggest part of our entire home will be moving with his aunt. An aunt he is just now getting to know. I can see her good heart, and that she is wanting to love him well. I just wish that our love for him was enough.
I will forever be a different woman because of this child. And I will miss him for the rest of my life. But oh what an honor to have gotten to be his 'home' for just a little while. I have been told that sometimes little people come into our lives only so that we will pray for them for the rest of theirs. Without a doubt my prayers will wrap around this little guy forever.
It's amazing to think that someone could become such a huge part of my life, and yet as he grows he will probably never remember me.
But we are here little man, the family who loves you with every scrap of who we are. We will never ever forget you. Your presence in our home will forever be a sweet memory to us all.
In the meantime I will soak up every bit of you I can. I dread the upcoming day when you leave our home, but I know if given the chance again we would never have missed this opportunity!
Guilty because I am grieving the loss of a little man that is still here.
It's been a minute since I've posted my thoughts here, so let me rewind a little.
We have had the pleasure of having a little tiny man with us for the past six months who just recently turned two whole years old. He has sparkly blue eyes that I swear look right into my soul. He captures the attention of anyone who will look his way and he flashes the most beautiful smile. A smile that just makes your heart skip an entire beat. All the while those eyes of his are processing the world around him.
We foster to stand in the gap for families. While parents try to heal and become whole, we love on their littles and try to provide the same healing to them. But the plan is never forever.
Until one day our caseworker said we had to quick decide if we would want him forever. Because of an impending jail sentence and various dcs rules, he may need a forever home. And I wasn't so sure that I was on board. Everyone else in our home was 'YES!', but to be honest- having a toddler has been a whole lot of work. Work that I haven't really had to do for a while. So selfishly, I just wanted us to think about it. But as I prayed, that door opened in my heart and I began to envision a life with a little tiny person in it. A world where I would be almost 60 years old when they graduated high school. One where I would need my reading glasses to read his sweet writings in elementary school. One where this momma of 3 became one to 4.
If it was necessary, that is.
But once that door is opened, it just kind of stays that way.
Not because of this decision, but just because it is natural, I have fallen in deep smitten love with this child. His sweet way of humming when I sing to him, his excitement when one of my kids runs up the driveway to shower attention on him, the way he rocks his tiny behind up in the air when he sleeps to self soothe. Head over heels in love with him.
I didn't believe it was possible to love someone like they were your own child when they weren't. I just assumed that since I have had my own children and I know that bond, that I wouldn't be able to replicate it exactly in another child. But when I realized how much I love this tiny person, I thought for sure it was Gods way of preparing me to keep him forever. His way of making my heart and hands willing to take on the huge job of raising another child from toddlerness. I mean if it came to that. Because his parents were growing and changing and learning.......my prayers have been for them to step up for this sweet child. Be the amazing parents that he deserves. Allow him the family he was born to. But if it was needed- only if- then we would gladly wrap around him as his family.
Imagine the punch in the gut it was to meet a family member who has been trying to get custody of this little guy in court one week.
I was assured that he wouldn't be moved. That in the protection of his best interest, it would be crucial that he stay where he is thriving and healing so well.
But that wasn't true. And in a matter of just a few weeks, this little person who fills the biggest part of our entire home will be moving with his aunt. An aunt he is just now getting to know. I can see her good heart, and that she is wanting to love him well. I just wish that our love for him was enough.
I will forever be a different woman because of this child. And I will miss him for the rest of my life. But oh what an honor to have gotten to be his 'home' for just a little while. I have been told that sometimes little people come into our lives only so that we will pray for them for the rest of theirs. Without a doubt my prayers will wrap around this little guy forever.
It's amazing to think that someone could become such a huge part of my life, and yet as he grows he will probably never remember me.
But we are here little man, the family who loves you with every scrap of who we are. We will never ever forget you. Your presence in our home will forever be a sweet memory to us all.
In the meantime I will soak up every bit of you I can. I dread the upcoming day when you leave our home, but I know if given the chance again we would never have missed this opportunity!
Thursday, June 22, 2017
Meet the fosters......
My whole life. At least as long as I can remember, that's how long. How long I have known I wanted to foster children. I'm not sure why. No desire to be a savior. No plan to change the world. Just knowing that there was a hole there and I somehow was going to stand in it.
And once the time came, it just kind of happened. And it washed over me like a wave and knocked me flat on my rear end gasping for air as the water continued to beat me down. And I wondered if maybe I misunderstood. Maybe I was supposed to donate to foster kids? Volunteer at a children's home? Something easier, less consuming, more manageable? Something that could be 'done' and then I go back home? Because how on earth was I going to do any good if I couldn't manage a kid with obvious trauma.......now that I know what 'trauma' does to a young soul? I'm impatient. Angry. I have my own stuff that prevents me from feeling whole most days. Surely this isn't what it was supposed to be for me.
But we've already begun this chapter.....we will finish it out and see what is next.
D is back with us- the 10 year old who pushed me to the edge and then gave me a final shove. He didn't mean to. He doesn't have hate in his heart. And he didn't ask for this crappy hand that has been dealt as his life. And I'm sure I just make him that more angry, with my rules and manners and plans and consequences. Being parented feels like a tight pair of pants I'm sure to one who hasn't really been a part of it before. We have to hang in here for him, but then who knows.
And of course for the baby. Please let his parents find their way to the surface and swim to shore for this little man. We will remain here for him, we can't give up on him.
While on vacation I got to read This Life I Live by Rory Feek. The beginning is about his young life. How his mom worked her entire life to provide the little bit of nothing she had for her kids while moving constantly to try and afford a home. All over the place. All kinds of jobs. All kind of boyfriends. His father was in and out. Home for a while, then would leave again. Not really visiting, calling, or supporting. Only speaking of love with his words, but never with his actions.
And yet the only person this man desired more than life itself? His father.
He wanted to make him proud. To see his love. To grab his attention and feel like he mattered to him.
Sure he loved his mom, but not like he was so desiring his dad. His dad, the dad of this man, was the one who hung the stars in the sky and who he still wishes could see the success he has achieved in his life.
In one chapter, he speaks of an uncle who tried to fill that male role in his life. He references an act of kindness his uncle did, "...leaving another beautiful memory in the mind of a seventeen-year-old who desperately needed a man to leave one."
And there on the beach chair I was sitting in, under the beautiful sun by Lake Michigan I feel like God spoke to me. This calling, this role in which we are serving, this place where we are.......has never been about me. It is about my husband.
Our entire married lives, he has had constant impact on the young men in our lives. And every child, male or female, desires the love of their daddy. Generally it's not about the moms. They nourish the kids with food and emotional gifts, but the men do the heavy lifting in the hearts of young adults. And when fostering a child that is no different.
And as I sat there, relieved and excited, all I could do was cry out to God that He would give me the strength and the energy I need to walk this ever so important path with my husband. Because He has an amazing opportunity before us in the lives of the children God brings to our home, and I don't want to get in the way of what He is going to do.
And once the time came, it just kind of happened. And it washed over me like a wave and knocked me flat on my rear end gasping for air as the water continued to beat me down. And I wondered if maybe I misunderstood. Maybe I was supposed to donate to foster kids? Volunteer at a children's home? Something easier, less consuming, more manageable? Something that could be 'done' and then I go back home? Because how on earth was I going to do any good if I couldn't manage a kid with obvious trauma.......now that I know what 'trauma' does to a young soul? I'm impatient. Angry. I have my own stuff that prevents me from feeling whole most days. Surely this isn't what it was supposed to be for me.
But we've already begun this chapter.....we will finish it out and see what is next.
D is back with us- the 10 year old who pushed me to the edge and then gave me a final shove. He didn't mean to. He doesn't have hate in his heart. And he didn't ask for this crappy hand that has been dealt as his life. And I'm sure I just make him that more angry, with my rules and manners and plans and consequences. Being parented feels like a tight pair of pants I'm sure to one who hasn't really been a part of it before. We have to hang in here for him, but then who knows.
And of course for the baby. Please let his parents find their way to the surface and swim to shore for this little man. We will remain here for him, we can't give up on him.
While on vacation I got to read This Life I Live by Rory Feek. The beginning is about his young life. How his mom worked her entire life to provide the little bit of nothing she had for her kids while moving constantly to try and afford a home. All over the place. All kinds of jobs. All kind of boyfriends. His father was in and out. Home for a while, then would leave again. Not really visiting, calling, or supporting. Only speaking of love with his words, but never with his actions.
And yet the only person this man desired more than life itself? His father.
He wanted to make him proud. To see his love. To grab his attention and feel like he mattered to him.
Sure he loved his mom, but not like he was so desiring his dad. His dad, the dad of this man, was the one who hung the stars in the sky and who he still wishes could see the success he has achieved in his life.
In one chapter, he speaks of an uncle who tried to fill that male role in his life. He references an act of kindness his uncle did, "...leaving another beautiful memory in the mind of a seventeen-year-old who desperately needed a man to leave one."
And there on the beach chair I was sitting in, under the beautiful sun by Lake Michigan I feel like God spoke to me. This calling, this role in which we are serving, this place where we are.......has never been about me. It is about my husband.
Our entire married lives, he has had constant impact on the young men in our lives. And every child, male or female, desires the love of their daddy. Generally it's not about the moms. They nourish the kids with food and emotional gifts, but the men do the heavy lifting in the hearts of young adults. And when fostering a child that is no different.
And as I sat there, relieved and excited, all I could do was cry out to God that He would give me the strength and the energy I need to walk this ever so important path with my husband. Because He has an amazing opportunity before us in the lives of the children God brings to our home, and I don't want to get in the way of what He is going to do.
Saturday, April 22, 2017
Pink is his favorite color
Six months, almost to the day. This little man at just 10 years old has permanently become a part of our family that will forever be missed.
He came in with just a bag of stuff and a giant attitude. Like a chip on his shoulder you could see a mile away. His story is his and he keeps it tucked safely away, only snips and tiny pieces coming out here and there in conversation. Guarded and protected.
Whatever circumstances landed him here in our home, in foster care, carved him into the young man he is. Complicated, funny, defiant, loving, hurting......hardened. But amazing. Just soft enough to let a belly laugh out every now and again and to surprise me with the sweetest words in the middle of a sea of hurtful ones.
I didn't see the end coming. We are a home that stands in the gap for kids while they wait on their parents to do or finish whatever it is that DCS asks they do. We just love in the mean time. And his launching time was no where in sight just yet. He was as folded into our daily lives as any of us are. But things happen when hearts are as volatile as spring weather and before I knew it I was loading his things into bags.
Marbles. Pokémon cards. Plastic toys and drawings and cards and...........six months worth of life. With no time to discuss or prepare or plan, we were loading him into his case workers car with his next place still unknown. And my heart is aching. Hurting. Grieving.
This is not the plan I had for this little man, or our family, or this chapter of our life story. And it hurts like no pain I have ever experienced in my whole life. Every part of our home is screaming out his absence. I wish that somehow we could have served him better, made it to the end, not had to surrender him to another home.
Please Jesus carry this young man and keep our lives interwoven. Please don't let all of this have been for nothing.
Good bye sweet boy- I will forever be in prayer for you.
He came in with just a bag of stuff and a giant attitude. Like a chip on his shoulder you could see a mile away. His story is his and he keeps it tucked safely away, only snips and tiny pieces coming out here and there in conversation. Guarded and protected.
Whatever circumstances landed him here in our home, in foster care, carved him into the young man he is. Complicated, funny, defiant, loving, hurting......hardened. But amazing. Just soft enough to let a belly laugh out every now and again and to surprise me with the sweetest words in the middle of a sea of hurtful ones.
I didn't see the end coming. We are a home that stands in the gap for kids while they wait on their parents to do or finish whatever it is that DCS asks they do. We just love in the mean time. And his launching time was no where in sight just yet. He was as folded into our daily lives as any of us are. But things happen when hearts are as volatile as spring weather and before I knew it I was loading his things into bags.
Marbles. Pokémon cards. Plastic toys and drawings and cards and...........six months worth of life. With no time to discuss or prepare or plan, we were loading him into his case workers car with his next place still unknown. And my heart is aching. Hurting. Grieving.
This is not the plan I had for this little man, or our family, or this chapter of our life story. And it hurts like no pain I have ever experienced in my whole life. Every part of our home is screaming out his absence. I wish that somehow we could have served him better, made it to the end, not had to surrender him to another home.
Please Jesus carry this young man and keep our lives interwoven. Please don't let all of this have been for nothing.
Good bye sweet boy- I will forever be in prayer for you.
Thursday, April 6, 2017
Rainy days and Mondays......
It was a Monday. I remember distinctively and will forever.
The day we got the call.
Mondays are full and busy and exhausting. And this particular Monday was the first one back to our homeschool co-op after Spring Break. I was wiped out. The entire drive home I was thinking about a simple dinner and a for sure nap.
And then my phone rang.
A gentle voice explained that there was an 18month old little boy in need of immediate placement. And then she asked if I wanted to hear more. And in my heart I knew there would be no nap.
After a family meeting and unanimous votes I knew my home was about to absorb a baby.
Nothing in the universe could have prepared me for what it was going to feel like to try and identify and connect with a scared and confused tiny soul who can't talk and can't understand. All I had for him was a willing heart and open arms. And a whole house full of people who were anxious for his presence.
It's been a week. And I am in love. Complete love with a tiny man whose past I have no idea about, nor his future to be exact. But for his present I am so happy to open my home, my arms and my heart. Knowing that the pain when he leaves our home will be as obvious as his absence. It feels kind of hard falling in love with someone I know I will have to let go of. But I do so willingly....
The day we got the call.
Mondays are full and busy and exhausting. And this particular Monday was the first one back to our homeschool co-op after Spring Break. I was wiped out. The entire drive home I was thinking about a simple dinner and a for sure nap.
And then my phone rang.
A gentle voice explained that there was an 18month old little boy in need of immediate placement. And then she asked if I wanted to hear more. And in my heart I knew there would be no nap.
After a family meeting and unanimous votes I knew my home was about to absorb a baby.
Nothing in the universe could have prepared me for what it was going to feel like to try and identify and connect with a scared and confused tiny soul who can't talk and can't understand. All I had for him was a willing heart and open arms. And a whole house full of people who were anxious for his presence.
It's been a week. And I am in love. Complete love with a tiny man whose past I have no idea about, nor his future to be exact. But for his present I am so happy to open my home, my arms and my heart. Knowing that the pain when he leaves our home will be as obvious as his absence. It feels kind of hard falling in love with someone I know I will have to let go of. But I do so willingly....
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Here I am Lord
So much is going on around here. So much.
Its been just over a month since the girls came back. Our days are filled with case workers, therapists, visits, casas, calls, appointments.....I can't even describe it all.
Yet somehow God keeps it all straight. And doesn't let us jack it up too bad.
But here? The laundry, the dishes, the devices to manage, the emails, the food, the shopping.....it's all a lot. Like if a lake is a lot, I am in the middle of what feels like an ocean.
Weave in the emotions of 9 children, all of whom are experiencing some sort of trauma, and all I can do is press into the Lord and try to be available.
The little boy we are fostering will be here for a while. A long while. Mom has some serious stuff she has to deal with, some involving jail time, and we are going to just plan on him being with us for a long long time.
I am standing in faith that the girls will not. But the last time they came I believed it would be a few months and it was actually eight. But I pray daily for God to fix this. Whatever needs fixing. And make the madness stop. These girls being gone from their home with their mom feels a bit on the insane side. Children can't feel safe and stable unless they have confidence that mom is doing what is right and unless their environment is stable. But selfishly- I just want them to go home. This all feels like too much. Emotions are bubbling over daily. Frustrations are building. Their hearts are confused.
In the bible, Abraham is told by God to take his son Isaac and sacrifice him (Genesis 22:2-8). And Abraham, although he loved his son very much, did what God asked him to do. He even bound him and laid him on top of the wood at the alter and was reaching for the knife. That is when an angel of the Lord stopped him and said he didn't have to sacrifice his son. That because he was willing to do so, it showed God that he feared Him enough to not even withhold his own son.
I feel a bit like Abraham. The toll that this decision is taking on my children is great. There is always a price, right? A price for obedience. A price to saying yes to the hard, unimaginable things God asks us to do. And there is not a single person among the eleven of us living in this house that is not paying a price. But my children do not yet have the rooted unshakable faith in our living God to be able to endure all of this without having some emotional effect. And as I was crying out, feeling like I am hurting my children and wondering if this is really what is right, God reminded me what he asked of Abraham.
I am carrying my entire family to the altar Lord. I give it all. We give it all. We are walking out in faith what You have asked us to do, and out of obedience we are doing it. Trusting with every single scrap of who we are that you are going to redeem it all. Cover my children God. Cover all of these children. Cover my marriage. Cover this home.
Its been just over a month since the girls came back. Our days are filled with case workers, therapists, visits, casas, calls, appointments.....I can't even describe it all.
Yet somehow God keeps it all straight. And doesn't let us jack it up too bad.
But here? The laundry, the dishes, the devices to manage, the emails, the food, the shopping.....it's all a lot. Like if a lake is a lot, I am in the middle of what feels like an ocean.
Weave in the emotions of 9 children, all of whom are experiencing some sort of trauma, and all I can do is press into the Lord and try to be available.
The little boy we are fostering will be here for a while. A long while. Mom has some serious stuff she has to deal with, some involving jail time, and we are going to just plan on him being with us for a long long time.
I am standing in faith that the girls will not. But the last time they came I believed it would be a few months and it was actually eight. But I pray daily for God to fix this. Whatever needs fixing. And make the madness stop. These girls being gone from their home with their mom feels a bit on the insane side. Children can't feel safe and stable unless they have confidence that mom is doing what is right and unless their environment is stable. But selfishly- I just want them to go home. This all feels like too much. Emotions are bubbling over daily. Frustrations are building. Their hearts are confused.
In the bible, Abraham is told by God to take his son Isaac and sacrifice him (Genesis 22:2-8). And Abraham, although he loved his son very much, did what God asked him to do. He even bound him and laid him on top of the wood at the alter and was reaching for the knife. That is when an angel of the Lord stopped him and said he didn't have to sacrifice his son. That because he was willing to do so, it showed God that he feared Him enough to not even withhold his own son.
I feel a bit like Abraham. The toll that this decision is taking on my children is great. There is always a price, right? A price for obedience. A price to saying yes to the hard, unimaginable things God asks us to do. And there is not a single person among the eleven of us living in this house that is not paying a price. But my children do not yet have the rooted unshakable faith in our living God to be able to endure all of this without having some emotional effect. And as I was crying out, feeling like I am hurting my children and wondering if this is really what is right, God reminded me what he asked of Abraham.
I am carrying my entire family to the altar Lord. I give it all. We give it all. We are walking out in faith what You have asked us to do, and out of obedience we are doing it. Trusting with every single scrap of who we are that you are going to redeem it all. Cover my children God. Cover all of these children. Cover my marriage. Cover this home.
Saturday, December 10, 2016
And then it happened.....6 + 5 = 11
I was sitting in the courtroom when it happened. The judge ordered it. And I felt the blood run right out of my body. My limbs felt cold and I couldn't move.
"Clear the courtroom" came from a gruff looking bailiff. But I had lost my ability to do that. To move. I felt numb.
The girls we had the high honor of housing for 8 months this year were coming back. As in now, like right now. And although I knew we had filed a waiver to have them at our home, I really thought it was just a formality. Because seriously? All five girls were going to again have to leave their momma and come back to our house? Right then?
Providers began discussing who would pick up who and when they should arrive and who was going to gather belongings and I couldn't move. But I had to. I had to act as though bringing FIVE people back to my home in an hour was no big deal. But that is a big deal.
I had to tell my people. And they were all over the place with emotions. One began packing up her room, making space. She was organizing the chaos in her physical space. One needed to be held and just assured it was going to be okay. And to be prayed with. One (our current foster son) needed to know who was taking him to basketball later that night. And the last needed to cry. She was crying at the injustice and worry about how these girls were going to feel when they had to leave their home......again.
I don't mean to focus only on my part of this story. The trauma for these kiddos is HORRIBLE. They were safe and home and enjoying it, and then they were back here and they don't understand. I don't even understand.
And it all feels so impossible. And- I'm just being honest here- I felt my human side saying no. That it was too hard, too much, too close to christmas, we have this little boy already, i'm just now feeling a bit 'normal'.............but then my spirit side says yes.
Because when we choose to walk into the unknown, the hard, the impossible.....God shows up in big ways.
I have a friend who says that we should always err on the side of people, because they are all we get to take to heaven. Which is a good reminder, because we have got some people going on right now. Hard stuff, earthly stuff, impossible human stuff.......but none of it is bigger than God. So if we can continue to walk with Him, He will cover the earthly gaps.
And He is. Physically, financially, the blessings just keep coming. It's all covered. He is good, so good. We will just keep praying, pointing hurting people to Him and waiting. I know this won't be forever. And what a high honor to be asked to do something this big. So we will do it.
And we will buy more wrapping paper and scotch tape.
And toilet paper.
"Clear the courtroom" came from a gruff looking bailiff. But I had lost my ability to do that. To move. I felt numb.
The girls we had the high honor of housing for 8 months this year were coming back. As in now, like right now. And although I knew we had filed a waiver to have them at our home, I really thought it was just a formality. Because seriously? All five girls were going to again have to leave their momma and come back to our house? Right then?
Providers began discussing who would pick up who and when they should arrive and who was going to gather belongings and I couldn't move. But I had to. I had to act as though bringing FIVE people back to my home in an hour was no big deal. But that is a big deal.
I had to tell my people. And they were all over the place with emotions. One began packing up her room, making space. She was organizing the chaos in her physical space. One needed to be held and just assured it was going to be okay. And to be prayed with. One (our current foster son) needed to know who was taking him to basketball later that night. And the last needed to cry. She was crying at the injustice and worry about how these girls were going to feel when they had to leave their home......again.
I don't mean to focus only on my part of this story. The trauma for these kiddos is HORRIBLE. They were safe and home and enjoying it, and then they were back here and they don't understand. I don't even understand.
And it all feels so impossible. And- I'm just being honest here- I felt my human side saying no. That it was too hard, too much, too close to christmas, we have this little boy already, i'm just now feeling a bit 'normal'.............but then my spirit side says yes.
Because when we choose to walk into the unknown, the hard, the impossible.....God shows up in big ways.
I have a friend who says that we should always err on the side of people, because they are all we get to take to heaven. Which is a good reminder, because we have got some people going on right now. Hard stuff, earthly stuff, impossible human stuff.......but none of it is bigger than God. So if we can continue to walk with Him, He will cover the earthly gaps.
And He is. Physically, financially, the blessings just keep coming. It's all covered. He is good, so good. We will just keep praying, pointing hurting people to Him and waiting. I know this won't be forever. And what a high honor to be asked to do something this big. So we will do it.
And we will buy more wrapping paper and scotch tape.
And toilet paper.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
To the stranger staring at my family..........
Hello there.
I see you. Watching us. Yeah. I know.
I know that little boy just filled that tiny bag with three bags of complimentary Doritos and two waters.
I saw.
Yeah, it's selfish. And gluttonous. And probably rude.
But here is what you don't know. I don't know him. And I have no idea why one bag wasn't enough. Or what the two extras will do for him.
But at this point, I don't really care.
See, he just came to be with us. Literally. Today is our week anniversary.
He is still a mystery to us, with his quiet disposition that accepts whatever comes at him with grace and acceptance. He has just accepted that he will live with us for a while. And that the new bed we showed him to is actually his. And that the half of the dresser we put his few things in should feel like his. And that eating the weird dinners I make is safe and okay, even though his favorite food is tacos.
(Note to self- buy ground beef and make that kid some tacos).
So I don't really understand why one isn't enough. Or why he is afraid of the dark (actually I probably understand that a bit). Or why he calls Emily girl. Or why throwing away a half empty bottle of water from his sister caused such rage in his heart.
But I am here, standing in this gap for he and his family. Loving him and opening our home for him in the interim while we wait to see what happens next.
And while we do, if filling that bag with doritos he will never eat brings him peace, I say go ahead.
So please don't cast your judgement on my 'son'. You don't know the load his tiny little shoulders have been asked to bear.
I see you. Watching us. Yeah. I know.
I know that little boy just filled that tiny bag with three bags of complimentary Doritos and two waters.
I saw.
Yeah, it's selfish. And gluttonous. And probably rude.
But here is what you don't know. I don't know him. And I have no idea why one bag wasn't enough. Or what the two extras will do for him.
But at this point, I don't really care.
See, he just came to be with us. Literally. Today is our week anniversary.
He is still a mystery to us, with his quiet disposition that accepts whatever comes at him with grace and acceptance. He has just accepted that he will live with us for a while. And that the new bed we showed him to is actually his. And that the half of the dresser we put his few things in should feel like his. And that eating the weird dinners I make is safe and okay, even though his favorite food is tacos.
(Note to self- buy ground beef and make that kid some tacos).
So I don't really understand why one isn't enough. Or why he is afraid of the dark (actually I probably understand that a bit). Or why he calls Emily girl. Or why throwing away a half empty bottle of water from his sister caused such rage in his heart.
But I am here, standing in this gap for he and his family. Loving him and opening our home for him in the interim while we wait to see what happens next.
And while we do, if filling that bag with doritos he will never eat brings him peace, I say go ahead.
So please don't cast your judgement on my 'son'. You don't know the load his tiny little shoulders have been asked to bear.
Friday, October 21, 2016
Nine
We have been licensed in foster care for 8 months, but just got our first 'call' today. The call that I have been wondering about. The one that says there is a child and he has a need for a home. She described him as sweet, a good student, kind. All the buzz words that should 'sell' him.
But the truth is, he already had a place here. Without a doubt, this is the boy who God was preparing a place for in our home. His place was ready.......we just didn't know it.
The caseworker picked him up from school and brought him 'home'. All day I prayed and wondered and worried about a little boy who must be overwhelmed with fear. How scary to go to a new home, new people, new bed. It just really must suck- to put it blunt.
He arrived with his belongings stacked neatly in tied up plastic grocery bags and one giant paper handled sack. His chapstick, a lanyard, some books, his clothes, shoes that have seen better days and lots of hoodie sweatshirts. And a basketball. A sure tell sign that the boy in him is alive and well- just waiting for a time to play.
This burden, the one piled on his tiny 9 year old shoulders, is more than I can even begin to comprehend. He has bright eyes, beautiful hair, he is a fabulous speller with amazing penmanship. Yet in his eyes there is something distant, something far away. Probably something that has allowed him to be the adult for his little siblings in a home where mom refused to step up to the plate.
Nine.
It isn't fair. For him I am grieving, literally my soul is crying out to God begging Him to let this little man out of the injustice that has been heaped shoulder high on this young man. Truly, this little boy. Crying out for the tools and the compassion and the heart for our home that can receive him right where he is and love him well. And maybe, just maybe, that he could love us too.
We choose to stand in this gap. The one between where his parents are, and where they should be. And it is my hope, my deepest and desperate prayer, that his mom can rise above out of the ashes that have been created by bad choices and a desperate need of the Savior. That she can lay down herself in order to mother this boy well. And until then, we will stand with him. And wait.
And we will, without any uncertainty, remove those barbie dolls left by the girls in our bathtub. He won't be needing those : )
But the truth is, he already had a place here. Without a doubt, this is the boy who God was preparing a place for in our home. His place was ready.......we just didn't know it.
The caseworker picked him up from school and brought him 'home'. All day I prayed and wondered and worried about a little boy who must be overwhelmed with fear. How scary to go to a new home, new people, new bed. It just really must suck- to put it blunt.
He arrived with his belongings stacked neatly in tied up plastic grocery bags and one giant paper handled sack. His chapstick, a lanyard, some books, his clothes, shoes that have seen better days and lots of hoodie sweatshirts. And a basketball. A sure tell sign that the boy in him is alive and well- just waiting for a time to play.
This burden, the one piled on his tiny 9 year old shoulders, is more than I can even begin to comprehend. He has bright eyes, beautiful hair, he is a fabulous speller with amazing penmanship. Yet in his eyes there is something distant, something far away. Probably something that has allowed him to be the adult for his little siblings in a home where mom refused to step up to the plate.
Nine.
It isn't fair. For him I am grieving, literally my soul is crying out to God begging Him to let this little man out of the injustice that has been heaped shoulder high on this young man. Truly, this little boy. Crying out for the tools and the compassion and the heart for our home that can receive him right where he is and love him well. And maybe, just maybe, that he could love us too.
We choose to stand in this gap. The one between where his parents are, and where they should be. And it is my hope, my deepest and desperate prayer, that his mom can rise above out of the ashes that have been created by bad choices and a desperate need of the Savior. That she can lay down herself in order to mother this boy well. And until then, we will stand with him. And wait.
And we will, without any uncertainty, remove those barbie dolls left by the girls in our bathtub. He won't be needing those : )
Monday, October 3, 2016
You never go 'back'
"Hows the quiet?"
"Are you enjoying some rest?"
"Bet your kids are glad to have their rooms back?"
As quickly as we became a household of 10, we have shrunk back to just us 5.
Yep. Just like that, the judge saw this woman and her children and their healing path they have walked and the checklist of crossed off goals and she ordered the kiddos home.
Home.
Amazing how God has so changed what that could be in my mind.
I have have the amazing honor of walking this path next to this woman as I have provided a 'home' for her kiddos. This woman who is strong, and weak. Who is whole, but broken. Who has been so surrounded by love, but alone. Her 'home' scattered across the place while she tried desperately to seek out what it was and what it could be.
And that home for her kiddos? Man I will never forget the way God wove all of those huge and tiny details together. The hands that rang my door bell with hot meals, toilet paper, hand soap, toothbrushes..... The texts of love and encouragement. The calls of concern and help. The unbelievable love poured out for each and every single one of us.......all 10 of us- breathtaking.
And here we are, crossing the finish line of sorts. The one that God has carried my family to. But truly this is just the beginning of the big journey for this beautiful woman and her sweet five kids. Now they begin the hard race. The one where they try to make sense of the complete chaos that has enveloped them for almost a year. An entire huge long year. And God will do it, I just know He will. And someday we will look back to this time in complete and sheer amazement at how He orchestrated it all.
And yet I do feel a release. An excitement of sorts that we made it. We Made It. WE MADE IT.
Man there were days that I wanted to throw in the towel. It was all too much. Too many needs. Too much anger from people who couldn't receive my love. Too much confusion from kids who didn't want life to look different. Too many people for a small space designed for less but adequately accommodating us all.
A broken doorbell. A shattered TV. Nail polish stained carpet and bathroom counters. A mysteriously dented garage door. A worn out washing machine. Stained walls from taped posters and pictures. Hearts forever missing a piece of what once was a part of our home. We will never be the same. Thanking Jesus today for the honor of holding these kids until their momma could. Looking anxiously to the future of who might join us next.
"Are you enjoying some rest?"
"Bet your kids are glad to have their rooms back?"
As quickly as we became a household of 10, we have shrunk back to just us 5.
Yep. Just like that, the judge saw this woman and her children and their healing path they have walked and the checklist of crossed off goals and she ordered the kiddos home.
Home.
Amazing how God has so changed what that could be in my mind.
I have have the amazing honor of walking this path next to this woman as I have provided a 'home' for her kiddos. This woman who is strong, and weak. Who is whole, but broken. Who has been so surrounded by love, but alone. Her 'home' scattered across the place while she tried desperately to seek out what it was and what it could be.
And that home for her kiddos? Man I will never forget the way God wove all of those huge and tiny details together. The hands that rang my door bell with hot meals, toilet paper, hand soap, toothbrushes..... The texts of love and encouragement. The calls of concern and help. The unbelievable love poured out for each and every single one of us.......all 10 of us- breathtaking.
And here we are, crossing the finish line of sorts. The one that God has carried my family to. But truly this is just the beginning of the big journey for this beautiful woman and her sweet five kids. Now they begin the hard race. The one where they try to make sense of the complete chaos that has enveloped them for almost a year. An entire huge long year. And God will do it, I just know He will. And someday we will look back to this time in complete and sheer amazement at how He orchestrated it all.
And yet I do feel a release. An excitement of sorts that we made it. We Made It. WE MADE IT.
Man there were days that I wanted to throw in the towel. It was all too much. Too many needs. Too much anger from people who couldn't receive my love. Too much confusion from kids who didn't want life to look different. Too many people for a small space designed for less but adequately accommodating us all.
A broken doorbell. A shattered TV. Nail polish stained carpet and bathroom counters. A mysteriously dented garage door. A worn out washing machine. Stained walls from taped posters and pictures. Hearts forever missing a piece of what once was a part of our home. We will never be the same. Thanking Jesus today for the honor of holding these kids until their momma could. Looking anxiously to the future of who might join us next.
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 kitchen......it 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.
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 kitchen......it 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.
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Five
Five weeks. Five beautiful girls. A family of five plus five.
It's been five weeks. It seems like a breath and a year all at the same time. We've shared tears, laughter, pain, frustration and even mean words. We've shared bathrooms, meals, germs (numbers 4 & 5 currently fevering and puking at the moment), prayers and dreams.
It feels hard most days. Like sometimes the pain that has been absorbed by these girls is enough to break us all. Like the end couldn't possibly be here soon enough but will inevitably be here way too soon. How could we ever go back to 'normal' now that we know what it could be like?
Our home is alive. And there is not a single square inch that isn't being fully utilized. Some of them over utilized : )
We have had so many laughs. So many games. So much fun and mud and dust and sprinkles.
And then there are the tears and the hard things that threaten to break me at the core of who I am. The inmost being that screams out in sheer surrender...........but can only proceed through the fiery smoke because of our Savior. The one who called us to this battlefield in the first place.
We can't fix anything. We can't change anything. We can't even make small repairs. But we can love, we can nourish, we can celebrate, we can worship, and we can listen. Above all things that I am learning it is how to listen. Not with my ears, but my heart.
And for that I am so thankful. I have done a horrible job of pressing in and listening with my brain all of these years but not truly allowing my heart to hear. The Holy Spirit is working in me and I am trying my best to shut down 'me' and listen only to what it is saying. To hear with my heart and not with my ears.
Press in. And press on. That is what I am going to do today. And laundry, because I always have laundry these days.
It's been five weeks. It seems like a breath and a year all at the same time. We've shared tears, laughter, pain, frustration and even mean words. We've shared bathrooms, meals, germs (numbers 4 & 5 currently fevering and puking at the moment), prayers and dreams.
It feels hard most days. Like sometimes the pain that has been absorbed by these girls is enough to break us all. Like the end couldn't possibly be here soon enough but will inevitably be here way too soon. How could we ever go back to 'normal' now that we know what it could be like?
Our home is alive. And there is not a single square inch that isn't being fully utilized. Some of them over utilized : )
We have had so many laughs. So many games. So much fun and mud and dust and sprinkles.
And then there are the tears and the hard things that threaten to break me at the core of who I am. The inmost being that screams out in sheer surrender...........but can only proceed through the fiery smoke because of our Savior. The one who called us to this battlefield in the first place.
We can't fix anything. We can't change anything. We can't even make small repairs. But we can love, we can nourish, we can celebrate, we can worship, and we can listen. Above all things that I am learning it is how to listen. Not with my ears, but my heart.
And for that I am so thankful. I have done a horrible job of pressing in and listening with my brain all of these years but not truly allowing my heart to hear. The Holy Spirit is working in me and I am trying my best to shut down 'me' and listen only to what it is saying. To hear with my heart and not with my ears.
Press in. And press on. That is what I am going to do today. And laundry, because I always have laundry these days.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
Hard things
I never have really had a hard time doing the hard things. In fact, it is the mundane normal day to day things that seem to wear me out. Just doing the normal life things? That to me is when I drip slowly into a dark place where I don't feel like I can function. But ask me to take on something hard? It's go time.
Why is that? Perhaps it's because God plans to use me for the hard, weird, overwhelming things. And this is how He has built me to cope with that. Like a weird kind of thrill seeking design.
So when God laid on our hearts (more like stomped it in) last summer that we were to get our Fostering license, it seemed like a thing. But how on earth could He use me to Foster a child? Our home is not 'normal', we don't operate on a good solid schedule, I can't keep up most days with what we already have. But we started the process.........ssssssllllloooooowwwwwlllllyyy. After all, what could He possibly use us for. I could never offer care for an additional child.
And then he sent five. FIVE. Through no circumstances that are of their doing, these sweet five sister siblings had to leave their home and go to their grandparents. And then they couldn't stay there anymore.
We were made for this.
We know this family, we have said all along they would be welcome here. But I'm not sure either us thought it could really happen. I mean, who can bring in five extra people into a normal home and still function?
And then it happened. In less than one weeks time, start to finish, we were notified it was a possibility and then they were loaded into cars with all of their things and we were in a convoy headed to home. Our home. Done. Just like that.
Could I possibly handle adding five additional children into my home? Nope.
Could God? Absolutely. We have seen Him show up in every.single.step. There has been an overflowing of food ever since they arrived..........not even joking. Almost every day God is sending someone with lots and lots of food. Yesterday, a box of toilet paper came from Amazon. The day the kids were coming, a friend came in and filled the fridge with fruit and veggies and yogurts and cheese, she put laundry soap in the laundry room, she put paper plates in the cabinet.
The laundry has yet to get overwhelming. Of course I am doing a few loads every day. But even with their initial arrival of garbage bags stuffed full of dirty and clean clothes mixed......it all just got washed. I feel calm. I feel tired. Sure I have moments of frustration, but God is carrying us. I feel like I am serving the Lord........and that is so amazing to be a part of something so big. What a high honor to be a part of something He is doing that is THIS big.
I never want to forget His ways. The ways He has balanced the hectic schedules, has provided the food, has provided the beds..........and the peace that He is giving me. The enemy is among us, mostly attacking through my own children. But my battle is not against my children, it is against the enemy. And in Jesus name, He will not win.
Why is that? Perhaps it's because God plans to use me for the hard, weird, overwhelming things. And this is how He has built me to cope with that. Like a weird kind of thrill seeking design.
So when God laid on our hearts (more like stomped it in) last summer that we were to get our Fostering license, it seemed like a thing. But how on earth could He use me to Foster a child? Our home is not 'normal', we don't operate on a good solid schedule, I can't keep up most days with what we already have. But we started the process.........ssssssllllloooooowwwwwlllllyyy. After all, what could He possibly use us for. I could never offer care for an additional child.
And then he sent five. FIVE. Through no circumstances that are of their doing, these sweet five sister siblings had to leave their home and go to their grandparents. And then they couldn't stay there anymore.
We were made for this.
We know this family, we have said all along they would be welcome here. But I'm not sure either us thought it could really happen. I mean, who can bring in five extra people into a normal home and still function?
And then it happened. In less than one weeks time, start to finish, we were notified it was a possibility and then they were loaded into cars with all of their things and we were in a convoy headed to home. Our home. Done. Just like that.
Could I possibly handle adding five additional children into my home? Nope.
Could God? Absolutely. We have seen Him show up in every.single.step. There has been an overflowing of food ever since they arrived..........not even joking. Almost every day God is sending someone with lots and lots of food. Yesterday, a box of toilet paper came from Amazon. The day the kids were coming, a friend came in and filled the fridge with fruit and veggies and yogurts and cheese, she put laundry soap in the laundry room, she put paper plates in the cabinet.
The laundry has yet to get overwhelming. Of course I am doing a few loads every day. But even with their initial arrival of garbage bags stuffed full of dirty and clean clothes mixed......it all just got washed. I feel calm. I feel tired. Sure I have moments of frustration, but God is carrying us. I feel like I am serving the Lord........and that is so amazing to be a part of something so big. What a high honor to be a part of something He is doing that is THIS big.
I never want to forget His ways. The ways He has balanced the hectic schedules, has provided the food, has provided the beds..........and the peace that He is giving me. The enemy is among us, mostly attacking through my own children. But my battle is not against my children, it is against the enemy. And in Jesus name, He will not win.
Friday, March 27, 2015
Rosie
This sweet girl came to us by chance just about three years ago. She stumbled I to our lives and filled a void we didn't even know we had.
And tomorrow, we will deliver her to her new home. And that void will be ripped wide open and leave me raw and exposed.
Recent testing has revealed that the majority of Ally's breathing problems (and truth be known, probably Emily's too) come from a severe dog allergy. All the dog shampoos, vacuuming and purifiers can't change the fact that she can't live here anymore.
My head totally knows.
It's my heart that just can't comprehend.
Tonight as we settle in for the last time with this sweet girl, I can't stop the tears. And the heaviness in my chest is sucking the air right from my lungs.
I never planned to love this dog. She wasn't the right size, breed or color. Nothing about her was what I envisioned for our pet. But she has become my sweet companion. Always with me, on my feet at dinner, on between my legs on the couch, at the gate when we tend chickens and always lying along side me in bed.
The hole she will leave in this house is already overwhelming me. I will so miss this sweet dog.
Praying for provision and peace that only He can provide for my family. And for my Rosie.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Time for change
We have lived in this house for 11 years.
11. Wow. We were in our house before that for almost 8. That's a lot of time.
This was the house. We had looked and looked. Checked out various cities in every direction. Scanned by multiple listings and drove by countless homes. Not to mention the ones we actually stepped inside of. Nothing felt right.
I kept thinking we would know. But had begun to doubt that.
And then we drove by this one while looking at a different one in the area. There was this feeling, this strange 'I've been here before' feeling. And when we opened the front door to see the inside, I already knew this is where God wanted us. I didn't even need to look around.
Each time over the years I have questioned our decision to buy a too small house in a not so super fabulous area, I remind myself of that feeling. That knowing. That presence that said this is where God had picked out for us.
I was 29 years old. Allyson was 4. Dan was 33. We had one dog- Daisy Mae. Facebook didn't exist and 9/11 was still very raw and real and recent.
I was a different person. My family was smaller. My faith was still in it's infancy. My marriage was so hard, mainly because of me. And I was still praying and expecting babies.
I painted my bathroom purple. Light lilac purple.
And last week, I cracked open a new can of paint and I coated over what felt like the best decade of my life so far. The one full of babies and laughter and realizations and growth...........and although it was just paint in a bathroom that can be painted 100 more times, I was saying goodbye to that portion of my world.
And then somehow the most perfect selection and plan of brown paper bag brown and safari brown paint turned into dang near black..............
Yup. Things have sure changed. I turn 40 in just a few short weeks. F O R T Y. I have never ever been one to freak out over birthdays..........but I have spent my entire life looking forward to my thirties. And they have been awesome. But now, turning the corner to forty puts me into an area of my life I have never ever even thought of. I am now the one who can remember actors that the young moms haven't ever heard of, I will never hold a tiny baby inside my belly again, and more frequently than not the young baggers at the grocery call me 'mam'. (no I do not need help to the car, thank you very much).
A new area of my life. And a black bathroom.
I am certain that this next section of my life is going to be even better than the one we are leaving. And that just like my bathroom, I will probably like it even better than before.
Good bye lilac purple. Hello safari brown.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Thankful
In my front flower bed there are waterballoons and a bottle of bubbles.
On the front lawn are my two chairs that were used for soccer goals.
Sitting on the front porch is a pair of mud crusted shoes.
Emilys bicycle is laying in the side yard.
There are at least five basketballs all scattered around the goal.
To say this is not what I envisioned my home looking like when I grew up is an understatement.
Except its better.
Because each of those things, although carelessly scattered and showing a complete lack of irresponsibility on my childrens part, they represent laughter, and joy, and fun. And my healthy children that get to be out there playing.
So today I am going to focus on being thankful. Because I was overwhelmed yesterday and that got me no where.
On the front lawn are my two chairs that were used for soccer goals.
Sitting on the front porch is a pair of mud crusted shoes.
Emilys bicycle is laying in the side yard.
There are at least five basketballs all scattered around the goal.
To say this is not what I envisioned my home looking like when I grew up is an understatement.
Except its better.
Because each of those things, although carelessly scattered and showing a complete lack of irresponsibility on my childrens part, they represent laughter, and joy, and fun. And my healthy children that get to be out there playing.
So today I am going to focus on being thankful. Because I was overwhelmed yesterday and that got me no where.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Peeling hotdogs
When ally was little and learning to eat real food, I peeled the skin off her grapes. And then cut them into quarters.
I was certain there was danger in those grapes and she needed my protection.
Have you ever peeled a grape? Not an easy task at all. I peeled her hot dogs too. Again I was certain she could not chew it without the skin being removed. Then as she grew, she only liked them without the skin. I peeled her hot dogs until she was five years old.
Even when she was little, I could sense a need for protection. Extra protection, more than normal. I can only explain it because I do not feel the same urgency for Emily or Sam. Sure, I protect them. An love on them. An watch out for dangers. Probably put too much neosporin on boo boos and pray too much for things God already has covered. But I don't feel anxiety over staying ahead of them for everything they do.
But for ally? It has always been there. And I can't even begin, nor do I want to, to explain the countless times this child had put herself in dangerous situations. Scary horrible tv drama kind of situations. And no matter how hard we try we keep seeming to circle back.
Back into the yuck that keeps surfacing. And here we go again, back into battle. And it is a battle, a spiritual war between what is evil an of the enemy and this world against God and the beautiful things He prepares for us.
It will never be explained to me any other way. We are at war. I am certain that all of this ugliness is going to build a beautiful testimony in my daughter. And it is going to be amazing. But we just seem to be struggling to get her there.
And it is far from over I'm afraid. Many times I know The Lord has reminded me to suit up and stay prepared, it's going to be a long journey.
It makes me laugh sometimes to remember all of the things we do for our babies to keep them safe. Little do young parents realize the true dangers they are up against down the road.
I am thankful to God for His provision. He is the One who is loving enough to peel my grapes for me.
Pray for your children daily. Young or old- they need your intercession. Listen to what He says in response. And when He doesn't respond, keep praying.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
The Perfect Day
Yesterday was going to be the perfect day. Until it wasn't.
Let me tell you, don't go planning perfect days. They have to just happen on their own.
Homeschooling has its challenges. Keeping to a schedule is one of them. And last week we had so much 'fun' stuff scheduled we may have not gotten to our schoolwork like we should have.
So this week, I was determined to not allow that to happen. Up by 8:30, school at 9. I warned everybody multiple times over the weekend. And at 9 me and my sleepy kids were at the table doing our devotions. Then it was time to crack open our backpacks and hit the books.
Ally and Sam both said they would be right back, their packs were in the van. You know, the van that Dan dropped off at the service center early this morning.
Crap!
We improvised. We left for the library with a borrowed algebra book to run copies of assignments and check out a new To Kill A Mockinbird bird. Throw in a couple fish books and a leaf guide book and we had enough material to get on with our day.
So by 11:30 we were back around the table ready to get cracking. Except it was lunch time. And on it goes until we finally wrapped up school at 2:30. Which is a far cry from 11 when I planned to finish and clean my house.
My house that I had a dream I woke up to sparkling clean, even the kitchen counters. Which was OBVIOUSLY just a dream.....
Today is another day, take two!
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Pollo is chicken in Spanish
One rainy morning, because only weiners capture chickens on beautiful sunshiny days, we chased pollo around for an hour with a stick and a plastic tub until we finally cornered him and trapped him inside.
Trust me when I say this is how all of the big time chicken farmers transport their chickens.
Because we were concerned about air, we left the lid cracked. And then the kids and I drove 20 very long minutes worried an angry rooster was going to emerge from behind the seat and peck our eyes out- which didn't thankfully happen.
So long Pollo, I already miss you!!! But I'm sure you are loving your new digs!
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