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.
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