The Green Monster Inside Me

"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

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?

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

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

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.