Confessions of a Heaven Bound Sinner

The Green Monster Inside Me

2021-03-05T14:08:00.007-06:00

"I'm crying out for help, absolutely drowning and NO ONE will help me."

Actual thoughts in my head that have turned into real words that I chose to actually speak out loud to my husband.

Actual things he had done for me so far that day? Twenty billion and counting.

- Woke the teenagers for school? Check.

- Combed bedhead full of tangles and snarls for our teenage foster love? Check.

- Took dogs out and cleaned up overnight messes that didn't wait for the backyard? Check.

- Let me sleep in and hide from all responsibilities for three extra hours because the day before had tried to kill me? Check.

Poor pitiful me couldn't see any of that blinded by white-hot rage that twisted and jumbled my insides. I was being spat on and dodging fists of fury for the third time since he had left for work.

He got to leave for work.

He got to help people and get a polite thank you.

He got adult conversation and space to breathe and hear his own thoughts without the chorus of rage and trauma playing as the constant soundtrack of his life.

Frustration bubbled up within me and came out in tense words, short on patience, that built a wall between us. When he tried to express how much my words hurt and how unfair it was to him and the big girls who were desperately trying to help, I simply hung up. How could he not see how hurt I was? I was drowning. I needed him. Our conversations for the rest of the day were dry and all business. None of the usual warmth, comfort, and solace. My wall wouldn't allow it.

Later, when he got home for the day, I abandoned ship and ran away. I brushed past him, still hurt and angry. With a quick, "Your turn, peace out," I was gone. I left the messy house that needed to be picked back up after a full day of living, the dinner that needed cooking, the kids that needed shuttling, and the raging child all in his lap. I went for a walk and found a picnic table to sit and spend time in the Word. My extra three hours in bed hiding had left no time for soaking in the life-sustaining words that keep my head above water.

I was transported from sunny park-side bench to the land of Cannon. I walked a familiar path in Genesis 37 with Joseph, the favored son of Israel, as he tattled and bragged his way into a pit. As I sought for a way to connect to Joseph and his story verse 18 jumped out at me.

" and when they (Joseph's brothers) saw him from a distance, even before he came close to them, they plotted to kill him. "

Turns out I had a lot more in common with his bitter and jealous brothers than I did with the favored son.

You see, Joseph's brothers were willing to kill him, as in commit actual murder, because they were jealous of his status as the 'favorite' son. Fueled, no doubt, by his tattle tale tendencies, the flaunting of his special colorful coat, and incessantly bringing up dreams that spoke of his superiority.

The anger burning hot in my belly wasn't just frustration. It was jealousy that churned my innards. Jealously that blinded me to all that was being done for me. Rest assured I didn't have the excuse of a bragging, boastful, favored husband tattling on me. I had just the opposite. A sweet man who was trying his best to do any and everything he could to help me. Despite the fact, helpmeet is in my job description, not his.

I failed to see my husband's sacrificial actions that aided me. I certainly didn't see how he rushed through tasks and failed to work as hard as he wanted and needed to in other areas just so he could come to my rescue as fast as he possibly could.

All I saw was what he had.

What I wanted.

What I couldn't have.

I may not have been looking to kill my husband, but if allowed to grow, the jealousy certainly has the power to kill our beautiful marriage. My walk home was lighter and my apology crumbled the awful wall between us that strangled the beauty and love and hope between us. So thankful for Jesus who covers my sins, and a husband who forgives me for acting like a jealous, and very foolish, spoiled brat.

What wall do you need to demolish today? What wall are you building to protect your heart that has a foundation of jealousy? Don't let what isn't destroy what is.

I was jealous of alone time and freedom to do things outside of this house that look more important or more valuable, but the truth is, there is nothing I could do that matters more than what I do here. I could go and do anything I want with my life, but this, this is what I chose. What I still choose. No regrets.

Lord forgive my heart of the jealousy. Help me to stifle it. To put it away completely. So anger and rage don't consume me and destroy the beauty you surround me with every day.

Battle Worn & Weary

2021-02-09T12:06:00.011-06:00

Once, after opening up and sharing some of my inner struggles, a friend told me I needed to put my kids in school and go get a real job already.

A seed was planted.

I let what God says about me get lost under this perception of how people see me. I know what God has called me to and that it makes me look like an absolute nut job, and I'm predominately ok with that, so long as I keep my crazy mostly tucked in and out of sight. Hiding so that others don’t see how I look.

The last time I read through Job God spoke to me, He opened my eyes to the fact that He speaks through the storms in our lives. I've been going through some pretty intense storms for the last couple of years. I mean, to be honest, foster care is one giant hurricane to begin with, and the last few years have been especially brutal. My family has struggled with placements, struggled with communicating effectively with the team members assigned to supporting our family and our kiddos, struggled to navigate the trauma of loving kids from trauma and all the yuck it dredges up within us. I've seen my name written in files, and on forms, I never expected to receive. Allegations. Failed placements. The understanding my home now has a dark mark on our file and we aren't exactly the best option for kids who need us. Just barely acceptable for the ones that find their way here. Lies roar in my mind seeking to destroy and devour the plan God has for me. I’ve been earnestly seeking to hear God amid all these storms. To really hear what He has for me. To learn and to grow.

I revisited this passage for the first time in a while. God's instructions to Job to ‘gird up his loins’ really jumped out at me. To gird one's loins commonly means to prepare oneself for something difficult or challenging, which totally fits and applies, but God took me even deeper this morning. Literally, it means to wrap a belt around your waist so your clothes don't flop around and fall down. Hard stop. Wouldn't you know, there happens to be a belt in the spiritual armor God instructs us to put on each day.

“Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist.”

In the storms of life, God reminds me to put my belt on.

I need the truth of who God is and who I am not. So I don't flop around in the storm and look a fool with my pants down around my ankles.

I've been flopping,

insecure,

disheveled,

embarrassed,

fallen on my face.

A hot mess.

I've not been secure in truth.

No more.

I will stand strong and secure in who God is. Who God has called me to be. No more flopping around in this raging storm called life.

I don’t have to hide because of the opinions of others.

God has called me to do things a little differently and that is ok.

I will stand secure in the truth of who He is.

I don’t have to have it all together.

I don’t have to hide under a facade of humility.

He already has me.

I just need to keep showing up each morning and put my dang belt on.

If you feel a little tattered this morning because you’re flopping in the stormy wind,

ragged and torn,

here is a life raft.

It doesn't have to be this way.

Put on the belt of truth.

Cling to who He is.

To what HE says about you.

To all He can be for you.

You don’t have to do anything.

He already has.

Just cling to Him.

He is Truth after all.

Did I Mess Up God's Plan?

2019-10-24T23:15:00.001-05:00

I have avoided this blog post.

Out of shame.
Fear.
In-explainable pain & heartache.

Last time I wrote I admitted to struggling with my current foster loves and wrote about the turmoil that was our daily existence. I wrote to be honest. I wrote to remember the pain because I fully expected God to heal it with time so well that I wouldn't remember how bad it was. I wrote with fierce determination to love them through it all no matter what. Completely confident that God would supply whatever we needed to stay the course to permanency. TPR (last major court milestone before officially pursuing adoption) was fast approaching and after two years together adoption was on the horizon and the intended destination.

The thing is, living in foster care is living in limbo. TPR had been postponed over and over again. As an adult, I struggle when I don't know what to expect. These babies struggled and struggled hard. To the point that our other children were beyond miserable. They were suffering varied levels of abuse and it came to a point as parents we couldn't ask them to love and forgive and turn the other cheek a second longer. We had to step in and protect them.

Oh, the anguish!

We didn't want any of our kids' childhood to be marred forever with the idea that Mom & Dad loved 'them' more. None of our kids need to feel less deserving of love and protection. Not my babies. Not my foster loves. We had to face the fact that we couldn't provide permanency for our foster loves "no matter what" and provide everyone with a safe, loving, abuse-free environment. I found a notebook where one of my kids wrote that she wished she could just die because of how one of my foster loves was treating her. Another came to me with tears in her eyes and said, "I don't think I can do this any longer." So I made the hardest call of my life and asked the "system" to look for a new adoptive placement. I just didn't see any other choice. And when the social worker asked me if she could come to see us and work with us to develop a plan to make this work because we had been together so long and were so close to adoption I gave her a flat out no. I felt like a monster who was kicking half her family out. Even worse, I really was that monster.

For so long I had struggled with this placement in various ways for various reasons that aren't fully my story to tell. So I won't. But I had latched onto this idea that despite the struggle I had to keep going. If I gave them up I was a failure. As if their futures rested in my hands. As if I was their Savior, not God. I pleaded and asked God for a sign that we were to be their forever home and I found out a baby was on the way after nine years and a basic understanding that my days of having my own babies were long gone. I took this as my sign from God. Adopting them plus a baby on the way meant our family was complete. Our time of fostering was coming to an end and all of our focus would be put towards healing from trauma. I was on my knees daily, hourly, pleading for love overflowing and an overwhelming peace despite the trauma storm that raged around us. I announced our pregnancy simultaneously announcing our adoption plans. An announcement I have since deleted from my facebook wall because it hurts to look back on. We bought a 15 passenger van because we were planning on permanency. We signed a 10k dollar contract to waterproof our basement so we could finish it out and add more bedrooms because we were planning for permanency. I share these things just to show we were all in. In every way possible. Life was hard, but we knew God could sustain us so we plugged on ahead as if everything rested on our shoulders. We wouldn't take the easy way out -- no. We would fight through this trial no matter what, no matter how long, because it was the right thing and we could not, would not dare, fail these kids.

And then I failed them.
Utterly.
Miserably.
Spectacularly.
Totally failed at mothering these kids.

A few days after my phone call asking them to look for a new home I stood in church, surrounded by worship, and I just cried out to God. Why? Why? Why? My foster loves surrounded me on all sides. All three literally had their arms around me vying for my love and affection. Why? Why God? Why didn't you answer my prayers? You're in me and You can do the impossible so why didn't You fill me with love for them? Why did You give me this baby that rolls and kicks in response to their hugs that surround me if I am not keeping them? Will You take the baby because I failed on my end of the bargain? Do I really even know You? Do I even know when You speak to me at all? Plain as day it was seared into my heart, "I didn't answer your prayers because if you felt love for them the way you wanted to you wouldn't be able to survive giving them up like you have to and the baby is a gift to ease the pain and to bring joy amidst the sorrow of letting them go." Despite hearing so clearly I still wrestled and struggled so hard. I didn't even share it with my husband for days. Did I ever hear from God? Am I making this all up? So much doubt about my relationship with God crept in. Was I even His if I couldn't distinguish His voice? I thought God had told me the baby was confirmation for keeping them forever. Now the baby is a consolation for letting them go? I am a crazy woman who doesn't know the voice of her Savior. I went back and forth nonstop for days and weeks on end. Even after they had gone.

Eventually, a dear lady from church who must have sensed the anguish and warfare all over me took me to breakfast and I opened up to her about my doubts and conflicting messages from God and she brought me confirmation that the message I received in church really was from the Lord and peace has crept into my heart. Everything still hurts and I still pick apart all the ways I screwed up over the last two years because I'm human. I have to stop and remind myself that I am not the Savior. God is. He loves them more than I ever could have hoped to. I may never fully know why I couldn't be their Momma. I trust God has a plan. In the midst of our decision making my dear sweet husband reminded me that our Squish left and returned to be adopted even though that was 100% impossible, so putting in our notice wouldn't screw up God's plan if they were meant to be with us. There is nothing we can do to mess up His plan. I find so much Grace in knowing that He is in control and we literally can't screw it up.

They have been gone for almost three whole months now and I haven't gotten a reply to my inquiries about their well-being. I don't know if they will ever make their way back into our lives in any capacity. I hope they have landed in the perfect home where they are happy, healthy, and thriving beyond what they were able to be with us. All I know for sure is God is in control and I can trust He knows best for them and for us. He will use all of this mess for His Glory, despite my flawed involvement.

Life isn't going the way I thought it would but none of this mess surprises God and I'm not screwing it all up because I don't have the power to thwart God's plan. (Nor do you!) I'll just keep showing up, spend time in the Word, and walk one foot in front of the other trusting God every step of the way.

Even when that leads down a different path than I had expected.

On Love & War

2019-07-10T22:02:00.001-05:00

Life is really hard right now and I feel the need to acknowledge it. In part because I want to be transparent but mostly in hopes that in the future things will be so great I won't even be able to believe life was this miserable let alone remember it. In case you weren't aware this chicka knows how to dream. I am going to be painfully honest, gut-wrenchingly so, about my right now.

Recently I had the opportunity to take my youngest five to the park. Instead of happy childhood memories, swinging and playing and shrieks of laughter, I had time outs and crying before we even got out of the van. Instead of a single solitary shred of fun there was Mom hiding outside on the ground, leaned up against the van bawling her eyes out in misery, trying desperately to hide her tears of anguish from the raucous hooligans and bewildered park goers.

Such is most of life.

Lots of fighting, arguing, tattling, sass, bitterness, destruction, self harm and rage. Thanks to formative years spent surrounded by drugs, violence, and gross neglect we have an uphill battle.

How much love and stability does it take to erase four years of the afore mentioned horrors? What about five? Six? How about eight? What hope is there when in my flesh my parenting becomes bitter? Annoyed? Forced? Reluctant? What hope is there when I know I don't love they way they deserve? When I want nothing more than to throw in the towel and live the easy life.

The most recent training I had to help me navigate this crazy life I live I was told, "Kids will only act the way you will let them." Boy am I failing. I feel completely hopeless. I've yelled, I've done time-outs and time-in, sentences, letters of apology and letters to the therapist, missed fun activities, even burpees. I'm basically a prison warden and it is still never ending. Through it all I feel like a mean Momster and I feel like I won't survive another second. I have had two kids in the emergency room getting stitches this summer because of another child's deliberate disobedience to safety rules. I now know what it feels like to have my child in an emergency room with a hole in her head unable to be there holding her hand and giving her comfort as they stitch her back together because I have to sit in the parking lot in the van with a handful of completely out of control children. I have had a sweet rescued baby kitten brutally murdered by a dog because my rules were ignored and subsequently had to navigate the grief of a completely innocent child finding and burying a beloved pet. I can't describe the anguish that comes from being screamed at and witnessing tantrums that involve violent outbursts on a never ending loop. Don't get me started about the times when a child is terrorizing another to the point of tears and being completely unable to take away their pain and anguish, unable to stop the abuse and keep them safe. To add insult to injury the kid who causes me the most grief can be so sweet and kind and loving, especially when other adults are around. But when its just me on duty, which is 90% of my week... I simply don't have the words.

Only by clinging to the promises of Christ in sheer stubbornness am I able to keep holding on with bruised and bloody fingertips. The truth that God is in complete control and He asks us to live at the end of ourselves keeps us in the game. Chant with me on repeat. Live for eternity, not for comfort here in the temporary.

I'm choosing to press in deep and I know that God is calling me to keep loving these kids. Buried in the Old Testament I found this idea that 'love oils the wheels of obedience.' Basically, we love God because He first loved us and because we love God we obey and keep His commandments. I know God is showing me the only way out of the deep dark pit I am in is to love my way out.

I have cried begging for God to fill me with love for all my kids equally. It feels like these prayers are falling on deaf ears. Such anguish and despair to not feel love for children He has entrusted to me and who so desperately need it. Is there anything more awful than a mother who isn't fully saturated in love and adoration for her children? Guilt. Anguish. Despair.

I am one hundred percent confident I can't fix this on my own. Completely full of shame but desperate for Jesus to fix it or use it I googled, 'Help I don't love my foster kid.' The results broke my heart but amidst the confessions of others and the permission to throw in the towel because some kids don't 'mesh' or 'click' God guided me to wise words that reminded me love is NOT a feeling. Love is a verb. A choice we make despite any surrounding circumstances. It was as if the heavens opened and glory light shone down whilst angels sang.

This pain and anguish has a purpose. God wants to teach me about real love in the trenches of the war zone that has overtaken my life. It's easy to love when you feel it. I have felt love deeply and that is fine and great; but, love displayed, even if it isn't felt, is STILL love. I am learning to press in and show true love, which is love that pursues the good of another, despite how I do or don't feel.

Right now life is pretty miserable. I live in a war zone. The battle rages non-stop with pockets of calm and relief few and far between. In the midst of it all I will cling to Christ.

To His promises.

To His assurances.

To His sovereignty.

To the peace and rest that comes from knowing that none of this hinges on me and He's got this despite the fact I'm a complete wreck.

He loves me and does good for me.

So I will do good for my people loving them well.

No matter what.

Trusting that the feelings will come in due time.

Now listen, your hard might be different than mine but it might feel just as miserable and utterly hopeless. I don't have wisdom or answers of any kind. Just a plea that you will stay the course.

Eternity really will outshine this miserable mess.

When Life is Overwhelming

2019-01-29T11:20:00.001-06:00

Life sometimes throws you curve balls. Then there are times you get a sucker punch to the gut that knocks the breath right out of you. Other times you're sinking so slowly that you don't even fully become aware of it until you're neck deep in quick sand and the weight of life has you completely paralyzed and you go from thinking you're doing ok to complete panic because you're not treading water keeping afloat like you thought; no, you're inches from suffocating and you have no idea how you got from point A to point B but you're keenly aware you are unable to fix this mess and nothing short of a miraculous rescue can save you now. I feel like an ugly cocktail of all three was my demise.

A foster care related curve ball flew a sucker punch to my gut that knocked me flat. When I came to I was disoriented enough to wake me to the fact I was up to my chin in the quicksand of day to day life spending 24/7 with 4-14 kids while my husband works in the neighborhood of 60 hours a week between his two jobs.

When life throws you curve balls, sucker punches you and leaves you drowning in quicksand. When you're powerless to fix things. When you're too scared to let people in to your hurts and your struggles. There is only one thing I know to do and that is to lean in deep to the One in control. I'm currently reading through the New Testament with a group of ladies and a piece of Mathew 6:2 jumped out at me. "... as the hypocrites do (like actors acting out a role)... "

I felt convicted. All of a sudden I felt like a hypocrite. An actress in an elaborate roll where I am some super Mommy who loves being around a million kids and handles it all with a good mood/attitude. Even the trauma of foster care and the overwhelming yuck that brings with it. Truth is I am overwhelmed and miserable right now. Just hoping that one day God will restore my joy and groove. The hypocrisy is unintentional. I try to put on a brave face. Try to trust God with the yuck and make the best of it. The problem is too much brave face creates a false narrative. I'm no super Mommy. I'm no saint. None of this comes easy. Everyone always tells me "No, way I could do what you do." Spoiler alert. I can't do it either. Every. Single. Day. Is. A. Struggle. Yes, every day has joy and good, but also every day is really really hard and sometimes it's hard to dig out the from under the heaviness of it all.

I was prompted to admit that I'm not thriving but drowning and miserable. So I put it out there on instagram and facebook. Told the ugly truth. I'm miserable and not having much fun. And you know what happened guys.

So. Much. Love.

I'm such a keep it all in, private, walls mile high kinda gal. So much past hurt from letting people in to see the real me paved an impenetrable fortress around my heart. I let no one in. Ever. Opening up and letting others see the very real hurt in my raw and open wound gave me a chance to be filled up with words of love and encouragement. I got phone calls and texts and comments full of love and advice.

You guys. I know I am not the only one. Afraid to let people in. Afraid to let people know I'm hurting, struggling, miserable, drowning. Life is hard. There are struggles and potholes and sinkholes and dumpster fires and so SO much broken in this busted up world. Stop hiding. Stop acting. Put yourself out there. Tell the truth. Let people in. Let others love you. Help others in the same ditch.

No one can do this alone.

We need each other.

If you've been going it alone. Not letting people in. Reach out. Walls keep everything out. The hurt and the love. Risk the hurt. Let us know how we can love on and encourage you.

Grief Is SO Random

2018-10-24T14:13:00.000-05:00

It's been almost 9 years since my father-in-love passed away. Since the drive to the hospital knowing his time was up I have had a supernatural peace about it. God is in control. He has a plan. We will see him again in Glory. So on and so forth.

Today it hit me like a ton of bricks and I feel so cheated. So wounded. For the first time ever ANGRY at God for taking him away. I wanted him with me today. I wanted him to see my girls dance in their ballet recital. I want him to go with me to tball and softball games this week. I want to rest my head on his shoulder as I sit beside him and I want to feel his soft hands pat my arm. He would be there. Every time. No matter what. But he can't be.

Just so you know God. Not healing him on this earth when you could have really blows. I sure could use him down here with me today.

And pretty much every other day too.

My Burnt Offerings

2018-09-02T01:35:00.001-05:00

Somewhere tonight a piece of my heart is tucked into a bed that I don't even know where is.

How can it be that a piece of my heart is so far removed from me that I don't know its location?

Seems like that should be impossible.

Yet here we are.

I don't even know where you are,

But I can hear the rhythmic thump thump thump it takes to get you to sleep.

I don't know where you are,

But I can hear the snores that rival any grown man's.

don't

know

where

you

are

and

are

all

broken.

Do they know when you ask for hot you want oatmeal?

Do they know when you ask for Kitty that you are asking for an eleven-year-old big sister and not the thing that goes meow?

Do they know when you ask for Cookie you want your 8-year-old big sister and not a snack?

Do they know that KK is your 13-year-old big sister that you clung to over a year ago accepting her love looooong before you ever accepted my maternal love?

I don't know where you are.

My heart is broken.

You were supposed to have been in a home that would love you unconditionally no matter what.

But our world is scarred.

Broken.

Downright ugly.

Life has been unfairly messy for some of the babies. Especially you baby. That yuck comes out as defiance and ugly and it's hard to love, attach and bond when you're living with the overwhelming fear that trauma brings with it.

And boy do I know firsthand how that looks for you. One of my earliest memories of you is circling a parking lot on a hot day with you strapped in a stroller snarling like a feral cat because you were so stinking upset and scared and didn't know why this strange lady had taken you away from everyone you ever knew. The fourth strange lady in less than a year. We couldn't disrupt classes that day so we circled the parking lot. Again, and again and again. Me singing with my wretched off-key voice just trying to comfort you. You hissing, spitting, and biting the air. Because you had to hurt whatever you could get your teeth on. Even if it was just air. Because hurt was all you knew.

Trauma has broken you.

And so the home that wouldn't give up did.

And you have been failed again.

I wish you knew how much you are loved and wanted.

But all that you know is that we are another family that left you. Another family that failed. And we really and truly did fail.

They called us into the office and told us they were taking you from us and we begged and argued and cried to no avail. They had their own perspectives and ours didn't matter. They saw that our lives were too stressed out, that we were yelling too much. That our marriage was in danger. That other kids in the home were miserable. They couldn't figure out how to provide you with the therapy you so desperately needed. They were afraid you would hurt us somehow. Our rebuttals fell on deaf ears. They said if they were wrong that we could come back and punch them in the face. As if that was a logical, acceptable way to extend to us the slimmest possibility that they really didn't know what was best. Then we came home and we lost you. For thirty whole minutes I was running up and down streets, barefoot, frantically searching for the baby who escaped in under four minutes. Four minutes was all it took to completely amputate me and leave me with no leg to stand on. No way to fight to keep you.

In those four minutes, our fates were sealed and you would be eventually taken from us. It took four tragic unreversible minutes for our names to be written on forms that we had only seen in case files that belonged to other people's children.

We knew you were a runner.

You had done it before.

We should have known better.

We should have never let our guard down.

Not even for a second.

You were worth whatever it cost us.

So now you are out there somewhere sweet baby.

Completely lost from me once more.

I would run a marathon barefoot through the desert if it would bring you back home to me.

I don't know if you will ever come home to us.

I can't come running this time.

It is up to the powers to be to decide where you call home.

I can't come looking.

I'm just another Mom who failed you. We are many. You don't deserve this.

In this darkness there is light.

You are safe.

There is a glimmer of hope for us all.

I can cling to the hope of Christ.

That even when I fail.

He does not.

I can't guarantee you will come back to me.

There is no guarantee you will ever know how desperately wanted you are.

So I lay it all on the altar of my heart.

I choose to share it all openly because that is the only way I know how to pay for my offering. To make my failures public. Instead of hiding them deep within.

My sacrifice is burnt offerings of my sin, my grief, my shortcomings, and failures. My doubts. My hopes. My dreams. My fears. Poured out on the altar for all to see.

I have wrestled with this long and hard but I am ready to make Abraham's prayer my own. As he lifted the knife to sacrifice his only son. I lift up and acknowledge that we may not be what is best for you dear, sweet baby. And you deserve the very best that God has for you. Even if that isn't me.

Here I am God. I trust You to provide.

I give it all to God.

I trust Him with you.

With me.

With all of our story.

Why Time In the Word Is So Important

2018-07-24T09:11:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago I found out I had to say goodbye to the first child I thought it was realistically safe to expect to adopt. Sure the word adoption had been thrown out and around before, but this was more concrete. I thought I was going to get a front row seat to watch God transform this baby I didn't make, but whole heartedly loved as if I did, from broken, abused and unwanted to loved, treasured, and desperately hoped for. Fully expecting that one day he would be healed from the trauma he never deserved. Fortunately this sweet child is still going to get those things, it's just not going to be here with me like I had hoped for.

When all this went down I spiraled hard and fast. My feet were knocked out from under me and my breath was completely knocked out of me. I didn't know if I could get up again. If I would ever breathe again. Or even want to. Why go through the pain of taking in and loving a child who is utterly devastated and broken if they're just going to take that child away and not let me see it through to the other side?

I started to dream of running away. My husband has been on unemployment for far too long and the only offers he gets for work he declines because they would take us away from where we are now. If we leave here we would have to step away from fostering for at least a season. The temptation to quit foster care, to walk away from the trauma and the heartache of it all, has never been so strong in my life. We could take a job somewhere, anywhere, and our tiny core family of five could live the simple life. Traveling and chasing after jobs. Touring the country and soaking up life together. Away from all the bondage of foster care.

On top of the overwhelming desire to run away from foster care was the soul crushing searing pain of loss and grief and ultimately fear that gripped my heart and mind. Feelings of failure and mistakes. The what-ifs. Frantically trying to make the wrongs right and fix it somehow. Utterly helpless in fixing anything.

I was being tossed around in the waves of life. Hurricane level swells were leaving me broken and battered, deprived of the air I desperately needed to live. I wasn't alone in my grief. I had a life raft in the storm to cling to. My journal was filled with the whispers that God had been speaking to my heart. His words that spoke intimately to me in the quiet of my mornings. I knew I was drowning so I thumbed through my journal and reviewed the exact verses that God led me to find each day and what He whispered to me in a real and personal way ministered to me. These stories, these snippets that God spoke to me through. They were what kept me afloat. Kept my head above water.

For the past thirteen weeks this is some what God has been speaking to me.

In Genesis when Adam and Eve stood unashamedly naked before God, He whispered to me that I was His and He wanted me to stand exposed unashamedly just the way I am and allow others to see what He can do.

When Cain was angry and dejected because God did not accept the offering of some of his crops I was reminded that I needed to give God the first and the best of all that I had to offer.

When Noah was told to build a boat and fill it with all the living creatures I was mesmerized by the fact that Noah didn't go on a safari looking for all the animals he needed for his floating zoo. He just built the boat. God took care of the details and Noah didn't waste one iota of time worrying about things he had no control over.

When Noah sat in the boat for months patiently waiting for the earth to dry God reminded me there are seasons of waiting, times of growing and trusting.

When Job cried out to God in despair because he had lost everything including his children I was reminded that my life needed to be spent focusing on what truly matters. Not worldly things that are ultimately a waste.

When God spoke to Job from the whirlwind I realized I have tunnel vision and I am too consumed with myself.

When Job acknowledged God's complete authority I had to acknowledge it as well. God is able to be in complete control of all things and no one can stop God.

When the people tried to build the tower of Babel I realized my focus needed to be making God look good not me.

When God was assuring Abram that he would be protected and rewarded and didn't need to be afraid He was assuring me that He had my back in all things.

When God promised Abram a son and Sarai couldn't fathom how that could be she made a huge mess and God reminded me to wait on Him in all things and to never ever take things into my own hands.

When Lot was dragged to safety by angels I was reminded to lay down my idols of comfort and never grow weary of praying for the ones I love.

When Abraham made assumptions and acted out of fear I was reminded to trust God to move in all situations that have potential problems.

When God tested Abraham I was reminded to sacrifice myself for others.

When Rachel watered camels I was reminded to go above and beyond when serving others.

When Esau sold his birthright for soup I was reminded to never sacrifice something with eternal value for comfort today.

When Jacob slept and saw the spiritual realm around him I was reminded that God is here with me.

When Leah learned to praise God, even from a life as the unwanted and unloved wife, God reminded me to praise Him in all the things.

When God provided for Jacob he whispered He would provide for me as well.

When Esau forgave Jacob I was reminded to respond to hurts with love and forgiveness.

When God gave Joseph loyal love He whispered to me that I could trust His loyal love for me.

When Joseph gave God the credit I was reminded to do the same.

When there was famine and Jacob told his sons to get a move on and go buy some grain God whispered to me to stop standing frozen in fear.

When Judah took complete responsibility sacrificing himself for his little brother I was reminded to live out a life of self-sacrifice.

In the middle of the famine God spoke to me that just like the Egyptians completely sold all they had to Pharaoh all that I have and am is God's.

Jacob and Rachel and Leah taught me that broken places lead to God and the midwives in Egypt taught me to obey God not man.

Moses taught me to take it all to God. He alone knows all, understands all, and remembers all. I need to be patient and trust God with the big picture, to pay attention when God speaks, to find stability in Christ, to pray and seek God's presence when unable to see the way before me, to keep calm and let God handle it, and to cry out to God for help. That mercy is greater than wrath, and I should rely on the light of God's word. God sanctifies. God skilled me for a purpose. That a lack of Godly counsel and leadership leads to bad choices, if I want a sunnier disposition I need more time with God and above all else I need to pray constantly.

In Leviticus I learned to freely worship and rest in the Lord and what He has done, that it is all God. I am not able.

In Numbers God reminded me to not whine or complain, to trust him completely. To not tuck tail and run. To trust God in the scary places. That the dry and wretched places have a purpose.

In Deuteronomy God reminded me that he would see me through the great and terrible wilderness patches in my life. He would fight for me. He would sustain me. That it was my choice to choose life and blessings by choosing to hold close to Him. That He alone is my good life, my abundant life, and fulfillment.

In Joshua God reminded me that he doesn't call me to the simple easy life. He calls me to be steadfast and determined to the life that He has called me to. A life dead to self and completely surrendered to His kingdom. That the secret to prosperous successful life was in the Word. To not stress the long term and just trust God to get me through the day.

In Judges I had to acknowledge that my heart longs to worship idols. That my troubles were reminders to stop lusting after worthless idols and turn back to fully devoted to following the Lord. No matter what. No matter where. That doubts lead to making decisions based on human reckoning and no good comes of that. To not live selfishly or self indulgently because its not about me or what I want or what I think looks best. It's about giving all that I am to God. That ultimately God has a plan and a purpose and my shortcomings won't overthrow it.

In Ruth God whispered to be a Boaz. To provide protection, abundant provision and love to the people he has placed around me. To be a woman of excellence. Known to be loyal, kind, hardworking, and above all else open to instruction.

Thirteen weeks in the Old Testament full of lessons I needed to survive this unexpected storm that has swept me away. Much of what I needed to survive God gave to me before I ever even knew I would so desperately cling to it drowning in a deep dark place.

I'm fairly confident I'm not the only one who has been swept away by the storms of life. I promise if you're alive life will try to sweep you away as well. You need a life raft. And God wants to meet you in His word and help you build one. If you would like to know how to start. Check this out. As for me, I can't wait to dive in and see what God has for me today.

*As always when blogging about foster care details are obscured and fudged to protect the identities of the children.

Beauty in the Broken Bits

2018-05-27T01:01:00.001-05:00

When we last went to the beach my babies kept bringing me nets full of broken shell pieces. At first I was slowly, every so sneakily, discarding them. Then I stopped and looked at them.

The colors.

The lines.

The patterns.

Absolutely breathtaking despite all that is missing.

My tender broken areas center around the world of foster care and mothering in general right now. The millions of ways I fail every day. The kids I have failed. The kids the system failed. Red tape that hinders and holds us back. The overwhelming surge of need I can do precious little to help with. The brokenness of it all seems so utterly beyond hope.

The thing is you don't have to be involved in foster care to be broken.

To live is to live broken.

It is all so ridiculously hard and the waves keep knocking you down and pulling you under and before you know it you've completely shattered into a bazillion pieces and you know you'll never be whole again.

I have spent the last couple of weeks deep in Genesis mired down in the story of the life of Jacob (Israel) & his son Joseph. I have become captivated with the life of Leah. Leah was wed to Jacob when all he really wanted was her little sister. Her one week anniversary gift was quite literally a sister wife. She was left unwanted and unloved. Much later in their story. After Leah herself was long buried. Jacob was giving his son Joseph instructions on where he would be buried. Despite a life loving and doting on her little sister and eventually many long years mourning for her his final resting place was to be beside his unwanted, unloved wife. Thanks to the perspective we have so many years removed from their lives, we also know that despite her low status in the eyes of her husband, she gave birth to the son who was to carry on the royal line that would one day lead to Christ.

To be honest I wasn't really sure what God wanted to show me personally through the life of Leah but I was captivated by her. Imagining the pain she must have felt every single day of her life after her husband woke up in their marriage bed and realized she was not who he wanted. Poor Leah. What pain and anguish she must have lived with.

Imagining her broken heart I found a message of hope, perhaps even encouragement, to those who live broken. Through Leah's life of sorrow and immense pain the path to Christ was given.

Maybe our broken hurtful places are there for a purpose. That purpose is to point us to Christ. We can't possibly get to Him without the broken. That is the truly beautiful part. He endures the pain of allowing us to be broken, allows us the pain of being broken, because living through brokenness is the only way to Christ.

So many cry out in pain.

Unfair!

Why me?

Living mired down in pain and sorrow.

The truth is, the pain, the broken bits, are the stones that pave the way to Christ. To being whole and radiantly complete.

We can't get there without first being broken. If we weren't broken. We wouldn't need Him.

What in life is breaking you to pieces right now? Will you pray and ask God to help you see the beauty and redemption in your brokenness? What are your beautiful bits?

Mine are the successes and triumphs of the ones I once failed. The warm squishy lump in my lap ever so slowly learning to trust in my Momma's love despite all the reasons she is justified in never trusting again. The child who presses her body into mine; so desperate for love and attention it seems as if she is literally trying to fuse our two bodies into one. It is the child who is succeeding where there was once failure and no will to even try any longer. It is the laughter and the shrieks of joy despite the pain that has been endured. It is above all else my broken places, where God's love shines through, in spite of me. It is all around me. In the very fabric of our noisy, messy, broken lives.

Will you follow the broken path to find your own way to Christ?

He alone can make you whole.

Yes,

you are broken.

But you are so very beautiful...

and you fit into His masterpiece.

Just let Him in.

After They Are Gone

2018-05-15T08:10:00.001-05:00

It's been eight months since you bounced out of my van and into another. A child lost that I never had the right to.

This thing I do.

Pouring my life into a child.
Loving them as if I had birthed them.
Giving them back when I'm told to.

It is indescribably excruciating.

I got to see you today. You wrapped your arms around me and I breathed you in. You twirled and sang silly songs and chattered away and then you said one little word that smacked me in the face and took my breath away.

"Evenly."

A silly little word my daughter from birth has said since she was tee tee tiny and learning to talk. It was confirmation to me that although our time together is over and the family we made together is no more, you carry pieces of us with you. Our time happened. Our time together mattered. Even as you outgrow this silly little word you will still carry small pieces of us with you wherever you go because we helped shape you.

I knew we would carry you with us for the rest of our days because you broke us in the most beautiful of ways forever changing us.

Now I know you will carry us with you as well.

Evenly now.

Look Up

2017-11-19T23:09:00.003-06:00

Right now I have nine kids. Nine tiny humans depend on me to keep them alive. I have to make sure all 180 nails are clipped. I have to wash their undies, sign homework folders, and feed them. Daily. As in every single day. All the things. Over and over again. Ad nauseam. To make things more fun six of them are trauma kids living in limbo.

Needless to say, my days are long and exhausting. One crisis after another I struggle through my days doing my best to put one foot in front of the other getting as many of the MUSTS!!! done as I possibly can before collapsing into bed. It is so easy and very justifiable for me to put my head down and get to work each day just trying to get through it the best that I can. It's all that anyone reasonable could ask or expect. I'm only human after all.

Wrong.

God's really been nudging me lately to look up. That I'm not the only one with a whole lot going on. Luke 1:79 really slapped me in the face.

"to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace."

So here we have Zechariah prophesying on who Jesus will be, and specifically in this verse the purpose and role He will play here on earth. Here's the kicker. I'm a Christ follower. I am supposed to die to myself and live for Him. So I need to make His purpose my purpose.

I need to shine my light (His light) in the dark because people in the dark are sitting in the shadow of death. Pretty grim picture. I think we can agree that this world is feeling very dark here lately. SO MUCH DARK!! In the midst of all of it, I need to be very intentional about looking for ways to shine some light. My light is the gospel and without it... eternal death. I have plenty of to-do's that I need to cross off my list, but no big deal if they don't get done.

People and eternity are at stake.

That Scary Hard Thing You Need to Do

2017-11-18T22:41:00.001-06:00

I do something that is hard and scary. I am a foster parent. I invite in kids of trauma to my safe little love nest. My babies have all the scary things in their living room. Not in the form of a network television drama, but in real life flesh and blood. I allow my babies to be exposed to the effects of drugs and addiction, abuse in all its varieties, neglect and malnourishment. All in the place that is supposed to be their sanctuary.

They get hurt. By words and by fists. They have seen too much, heard too much, felt too much. I worry that I am robbing them of their childhood. That I will regret this thing that we do.

This scary hard thing is something God has called us to as a family. God does that you know. He asks you to do things you'd simply rather not.

He asked Joseph to marry a pregnant girl. We get it because we have perspective but imagine being in his shoes and defending his decision to go forward with his plans to wed a seemingly knocked up Mary. That's exactly what he did.

“When Joseph got up from sleeping, he did as the Lord’s angel had commanded Him. He married her,” - Mathew 1:24

That’s exactly what he did because it is what God called him to do.

Sometimes God is going to ask you to do a scary hard thing that you can’t defend. It will make no earthly sense. Do it anyway. You don’t have to defend it, explain it, or help others understand and support you. You just have to be obedient.

Your Mom may never get it and that is ok.

Do your hard scary thing and may God be glorified in it.

An Open Letter to Moms with Kids in Foster Care

2017-02-20T08:53:00.001-06:00

I hold your baby close, and rock her back and forth. Our hearts beat as one. She pats my back as I stroke her hair.

Yes, we've bonded. Yes, she calls me Mom. Yes, that breaks your heart.

It was never meant to be this way. Your baby has become ours.

Did you know she scans the crowd eagerly looking for your face? That no matter how happy and content she is with us, we can never replace you.

Life has been scary, life has been hard. She doesn't hold it against you. She loves you just because of who you are.

What you're going through right now is the hardest thing you've ever gone through. Don't give up. Don't quit fighting. { Put down the bottle, step away from the drugs, leave the abusive relationship, get a job, get a safe place, take the parenting classes. } Take what applies to you and fight with all that you have within and more.

She is safe here, she is happy. She hasn't had to go without a Mommy. She will be ok no matter what. We would keep her forever if it came to it. We secretly want to keep her forever and dread the thought of having to give her back. But the truth is she scans the crowd for you. She snuggles my phone and gives you eskimo kisses through the miles that stretch between us.

Fight.

Dig.

Claw your way out of the pit.

Our baby needs you.

Debunking Foster Care Myths: I Could Never Give A Child Back

2017-02-13T08:44:00.001-06:00

Two babies in my lap.

Both are borrowed.

I can't claim a hold on either. Even though I wear the scars of carrying and birthing one.

My job is to let go of both when the time comes.

Today they are jealous and vying for my attention. My lap is full of soft squishy babe. Hair in my face, elbows coming at me from all directions, hands pat-patting my back as I pat theirs.

My lap is overflowing.

My heart is full.

Today they want, and need, my love. My mothering.

Lord, help me let go when her Momma takes her back from me.

Lord, help me let go and step back as she grows and needs me less and less.

The thing with mothering: No matter how you come into it. It is always going to be about letting go.

The Movement We Could ALL Support

2017-02-10T08:28:00.001-06:00

All around me I see people waking up.

Opinions, Facebook posts, memes, protests, marches, rights... both sides of every issue. People are waking up and speaking out, louder than ever.

Where there is no vision for the future the people perish.

No matter your opinion, no matter your stance, dream. Envision your future, your children's future, what do you want to see happen?

Rally your troops, do something, anything, to work towards that goal.

There is a war being fought. Choose your side and get to work. Dig deep. Fight for what you want.

Don't waste your time making a lot of pointless noise. Don't make a spectacle. No need to put on a show. We have Hollywood for that. Time to get down and dirty.

Volunteer.

Donate.

Apply to host a Syrian refugee family, an international student, an orphan, or a foster child.

Serve at a food pantry, a woman's shelter, or a pregnancy crisis center.

Like and claim your president? Don't? Either way, watch his every move, give feedback, hold him accountable, and vote at every opportunity going forward so you can elect officials you're proud of.

Have your opinions? Of course, you do. Go ahead, proclaim them loudly by putting your convictions to work. Share your links, articles, memes, and hashtags if you must. But for the love of all that matters don't stop there.

Get to work!!!

Court Today

2017-01-27T09:43:00.003-06:00

Yesterday I was asked what my plans were for the weekend and it was like a hitting a wall. I have no idea what my life is going to look like by the time my weekend rolls around.

It is so weird having time suspended.

Every once in a while days loom before me that are a huge closed doors in my life. I have no idea what my life will look like once we cross over to the other side. They are court room doors and inside them sit judges and lawyers and social workers and a birth Mom.

The only guarantee is that there will be tears. Will they be mine? Will they be hers? Will we work together no matter what to make sure it's not the little ones?

My life is no longer my own. It is controlled by a judge who doesn't know me nor never will.

Thank goodness The One truly in charge knows every hair on my head.

Three Easy Steps to Setting Goals that Make Dreams Come True

2017-01-23T09:17:00.001-06:00

Well, I've done it. I've pondered and stewed and I have made myself some lofty "no pressure to be perfect" goals to focus on this year. I don't have any desire to share them publicly. They are nothing earth-shattering or inspiring. I also have 47 loads of laundry to do and three kids need their education today. Apparently, someone left me in charge of that. Everyone will also want to eat today. Priorities people. But... just in case someone shows up here I thought it might be worth my while to share the process.

Maybe you, like me, look around and cringe. Changes... yes that would be good. Goals might help, but I am so messed up and broken in every which way and I don't even know where to start. Maybe, instead of making some goals with some actionable steps to help climb out of the pit you just sit down with a pint of chocolate chunk ice cream and do something mind-numbing to help you forget how miserable you are. Feel free to insert your drug of choice into the previous sentence. Yes, chocolate is my drug of choice. Judge me if you want. It won't change me.

Maybe you need a boost, a helping hand, someone to come alongside you and nudge you in the right direction. I suppose I can help there. Someone helped me. I can't remember exactly where I picked this up from. A book, a mentor, a friend? I have no clue. I have definitely slept since then. I assure you though I am not smart enough to have come up with it myself; nevertheless, I think you are going to like what I have for you today. A busy woman's guide to setting goals that will help you live the life you always wanted.

Step 1) Think about the day you die. Pretend you are on your deathbed. Who do you want to be in that moment? When you relive your entire lifetime in sixty seconds, what do you want to relive? Remember you're not on your deathbed right this very second so this is a dream. A morbid dream of sorts, but a dream nevertheless. What have you done? Who have you become? What have you lived through? Who do people say you are? Remember this isn't now you. This is future you. Your life has been full. You've done all that you had ever hoped and dreamed you would. What was it? What is most important to you. Cut away all that doesn't really matter to you and what is left? Write your obituary in your head. What would your epitaph be? These are your goals. To become this person and get these things done.

Step 2) Make a list of actionable steps. The keyword here is actionable. These are things you can do. What actions can you take to get where you want to be. Basically, what do you need to do between now and then to get to that point? Want to be fit & healthy running 5k's in your 70's? Maybe you should consider going for a walk sometime between now and then. Or maybe that's just me. I digress. The point is you need to figure out what you have to actually do to meet your goals.

Step 3) Break it down. Small manageable, 'I can do this!' chunks. I want to be healthy. I know I need to make better food and drink choices. I should definitely drink more water and give up sweet tea. My goal is manageable chunks so I am not going to make my goal to stop drinking sugar water completely. Instead, I will alternate between a cup of tea and a cup of water throughout the day. Eventually, I might even challenge myself to drink two cups of water before my next cup of tea. That sort of thing. It won't do you any good to make a lofty goal you won't meet so break it down until it's small enough you are willing to actually do it. In this final step, it is very critical that you commit to being honest with yourself. Dream phase is over. This is reality.

That's basically it. To figure out where you need to go in life you've just got to figure out where you want to end up. Work backward. You will have clarity as you make your goals and consider your ambitions for the years to come. Build yourself a bridge from where you are today to where you want to be at the end.

If you're stuck in step one unsure of where and who you want to be; here are some ideas to get you thinking. Just pick which ones matter to you: marriage, children, extended family, finances, career, fitness, health, friendships, travel, hobbies. Do you have a bucket list? What would you add?

Hello 2017

2017-01-09T00:26:00.001-06:00

It is safe enough to start thinking about goals for 2017 now that there isn't any pressure to strive towards perfection or hold myself to unrealistic expectations. There is exactly zero danger of guilting myself into committing to outrageous things like only drinking water for 365 days straight.

As we start the second week of this beautiful (& no longer dangerous) blank slate of possibilities and promise I am reflecting & dreaming. What is important to me? What do I want out of life? Like for reals. What do I want to strive towards? Do I need to let go of anything?

I feel freedom. I can let go of things I once loved that don't resonate with the me I am today. I can also rediscover long lost loves I've lost touch with for one reason or another.

So that is where I am for now.

Quietly pondering. Zero pressure. No time table to adhere to. Just taking time to breathe and to dream.

The Other Woman

2017-01-08T02:19:00.001-06:00

For a few months now I've mothered you both so you wouldn't have to go without a Mother's loving touch. I've kissed boo boos, read books, and served meals. I've snuggled, rocked, and washed dirty underwear. I've fought for you, and sometimes with you. I've braided hair, clipped fingernails, and learned how to do a faux hawk. All the while knowing that we're just bidding time. This happy little family we've made is just smoke and mirrors. A brightly colored bandaid doing precious little to distract you from the hurt for a short while.

Crocodile tears flow freely. Plunking down your chubby little cheeks. You cry your goodbyes when you have to return to me and all you want to do is stay with her.

I get it.

Goodbye's hurt.

They cut deep.

I kinda sorta want to scream and cry too; soon you won't have to come back to me.

It's about that time again.

The tide is turning.

The one ray of sunshine in this cloudy sky is you won't have to cry your goodbyes any more.

It will be my turn.

My turn to say goodbye,

let go,

and walk away.

This time for good.

I will gladly and boldly live wounded with the scars.

Bleed out for you.

So that you don't have to.

You're worth it sweet girl. You're worth it silly boy.

I'll soak up these last few weeks and promise to always love you from afar. For you were never meant to be here. I'm just the other woman. Holding space for the one for whom your heart beats.

A Sad Story

2014-10-17T23:33:00.003-05:00

Today I dragged five kids to the grocery store. We shopped for fresh produce, and all sorts of healthy ingredients to make nutritious meals here at home. We went up and down every aisle at least twice and loaded down our shopping cart. It was painful but we survived.

Photo Credit

Then we went to eat at McDonald's.

Photo Credit

The End.

Refocus

2014-10-13T06:00:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time I had a dream.

It involved a ton of kids, a big house, and in it I would have done important things that would make my stay here on earth worthwhile.

I spent a lot of time dreaming of how perfect things would be... someday.

Someday I'll have the perfect big garden.

Someday I'll have the perfect chicken coop with fresh eggs.

Someday I'll have enough rooms and beds for a zillion kids.

Someday I'll have the perfect play area.

Someday I'll have the perfect library and school room.

Someday I'll have the perfect backyard.

Someday.

Someday.

Someday.

Forget someday.

Forget perfect.

All I have is today.

Today all that I have is good enough.

My little house with banged up walls and missing trim. With an overgrown backyard and a broken back porch.

It may not be perfect. But its good enough. And its being used today.

Photo Credit

Enough

2014-10-09T19:52:00.002-05:00

I used to think I could save kids.

Fix things for them.

At least for a while.

Or at the very least help.

A bit.

Even if it's just a smidge.

It took me a little shy of two years to fully realize that being a foster parent doesn't save kids.

It doesn't fix a family.

Not even for a little while.

Help that lasts is non existent.

When I realized all my hard work was a waste I went to a dark place.

I wanted to give up on foster care.

I was doing hard work for nothing.

Some of these kids won't even remember me.

A brief stay in my home does little to effect their futures.

Then it dawned on me...

It isn't up to me to save them, to fix them, or even make things better for them.

I just need to show up.

I need to love on them.

I have to leave everything else up to God.

That is all I can give.

It is enough.

Image Credit

My Idol

2014-10-09T01:36:00.002-05:00

You're just another
voice telling
me I'm not
good enough.

I expected solace,
encouragement,
refuge, strength,
never ending love.

Come to me.

The fault is my
own. For asking
you to be what
you were never
meant for.

I had it
backwards.
I was the one
made to help.

Taking Some Time To Breathe

2014-04-30T00:57:00.001-05:00

We said goodbye to our foster kids at the very beginning of April and haven't had any new placements. Very purposefully. We kindly asked our agency not to call us until we are ready again.

We decided we needed some time to enjoy life embracing time with one another without the added stressors of fostering.

Life has slowed way down and we are enjoying the time to simply be.

I took the girls on a massive road trip to visit one of our 'all grown up' kiddos.

It was amazing, just what the doctor ordered.

I don't know how long it will last, but this break was oh so necessary for my family.

Dealing with hurting kids, and foster agencies, and broken families is tough stuff.

It's ok to take a break.

For a week, for a month, forever.

Today I am feeding my soul, and focusing on my children, healing from the hurt of the first two years of fostering.

It will take some time for us to decide if there will be a third year or not.

No deciding yet.

For now we are just breathing in life.

Today

2014-02-18T08:42:00.002-06:00

This morning I have a sweet little girl asking to be rocked and snuggled. In her short two years of living we've only known each other six months and she almost certainly won't be here forever. I'm only a stepping stone to the Mom who will eventually adopt her.

Today.

This morning.

She calls me Momma and wants to rock. Her eyes twinkle and she knows love. She burrows her face in my neck and I breath in her sweetness deeply. Her soft dark brown locks that don't quite match my own tickle my face and her little fingers pat my back as I pat hers. Today she has a Dad who will tickle her and toss her in the air just to hear her shriek with joy. Today she has sisters aplenty, who she undoubtably will squabble with over the toys, but there will also be hugs and shared secrets and laughter amongst them.

I never know what tomorrow will bring.

Today.

Today we love.

Like there is no tomorrow.