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.

My Burnt Offerings

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. 

I 

don't 

know 

where 

you 

are

and 

we 

are 

all 

so 

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

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

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

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.

That Scary Hard Thing You Need to Do

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

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

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.

Court Today

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.

The Other Woman

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.

Refocus

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

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

Taking Some Time To Breathe

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

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.

At the End of Me

I had to stay home and miss something fun tonight with a kid who was acting out but I got a good deal out of it.  Thankfully it wasn't the kid that has been wearing me thin this week. 

I got three blessed hours of one on one time with a child whose behavior proved it was desperately needed. Not to mention the rest got a sweet Daddy date.

Tonight we ate, we cleaned bedrooms, we ate ice cream, we read books and sang songs.

Mostly we healed after a rough couple of days.

Then I got this.

Icing on the cake.

So desperately needed because I have been teetering on the brink of despair. I am dealing with a very tough placement and every day I've been crying out desperately to God. 

"I can't do this anymore."

Thankfully, at the end of my capabilities, at the end of my patience, at the end of myself...

God can take over.

From here on out its ALL HIM because I don't have anything left at this point. I'm completely drained. 

Honestly though, I'm excited because I can't think of a better place to be. 

At the end of myself, drained of all the good things I thought I had going, is exactly where I need to be if I want to fill up to overflowing with Jesus.

The Other Perspective

*tears* {Lots and lots of 'em! }

Empathy.

It is a powerful & beautiful thing.

Every case is different BUT I'm sure anyone involved in the foster care world can agree to one thing.

We could certainly do better!

Watch this.    It's worth every second.

Such a great reminder that we ALL fall short. None of us are perfect. MYSELF INCLUDED! And that none of us, not a single solitary one of us, is better than another in God's eyes. We are all on an even playing field. We all need HIS love.

I needed this kick in the pants.

To remember.

Not only am I merchant of hope to the kids who come and live with me for a few days or a few months.

I am also a merchant of hope to their parents.

We are in this together!

MaMa

My heart is in my throat today.

I've only known her four short days but today she started calling me MaMa. Obviously Mrs. Erica is a little much for a mostly non verbal two year old. Not to mentions she is two and surrounded all day by three other kids who call me Mommy so the words MaMa mean little to her. It's just my name.

Still.

All I can think about is her other MaMa. The one who is missing her like crazy. (I hope.) My heart is swollen and full of love for this sweet squishy two year old who has obviously been neglected in various ways and so quickly and beautifully bonded herself to me. Somehow it's equally swollen and full of a tender heartbroken love for a very broken Momma. A Momma I don't know. A Momma who needs to get her act together and quick because these kids need her gosh darn it! A Momma who I can't help but love. In spite of it all.

A Few Tricks To Help You Survive the First Night Together

In honor of the sweet little lumps snuggled into their beds soundly snoozing away under my roof for the first time ever tonight, I thought I would jot down a few tips and tricks to help you get through your first night with a new foster care placement.

Now, to be completely honest, I am no expert. This is only my fourth ever "first night" however I realized that things went alot smoother today than they did our first go around. We have learned and implemented a few things that worked super well and maybe just maybe another brand spanking new foster family would appreciate a heads up.

Seven Simple Tricks to Help You Survive The First Night of a New Foster Placement


1.) PRAYER: Now I'm sure not all foster parents are into Jesus and spiritual stuff but this one is. I couldn't do this if it weren't for the Holy Spirit's guidance and wisdom. As soon as I get a call about a potential placement I start praying. The kids and I pray together and it gives me a chance to remind them., these new foster siblings who might be coming are probably scared and sad. We pray for wisdom, comfort, healing. The kids, the workers, the bio family, ourselves... all covered in prayer together as a family. Prayer is our number one tool to get through any day. When we get the false alarm call we pray again and call it a night. If we get the conformation call we pray again and kick it into high gear!

2.) PREPARE AHEAD OF TIME: You never know what you're going to get but as much as you can try to be ready at a moments notice. Ha! We have a tote full of extra toys and blankets and toothbrushes other fun/basic stuff that we keep in a closet. Today the extra bedroom was decked out all girly because we were expecting an 11 year old girl to arrive next Thursday. Because of this placement that went through today she got bumped into bunking with Kayli so we moved all girly stuff out of that room and stocked the room for a boy. Changed the bedding, gathered all the boyish toys dispersed throughout the house, and threw up a welcome to our home sign. It only took about 10-15 minutes and we had the room ready. Don't underestimate the power of a few toys and a welcome sign. Every kid should feel wanted and special.

3.) PIZZA: To take the most advantage of this tip you MUST choose delivery. You have a million and one things to get through tonight and figuring out dinner needs to be thoughtless. Don't forget to order at least one 'nothing but oozy gooey cheese' pizza. You have no idea what these kids will like but I have never met a kid, no matter how picky, who turned up their nose at cheese pizza. 

4.) FINGER NAIL POLISH: If one of your fosters is a girl take the time to paint her nails after bath time. She will feel like a princess. It is most likely a rare treat for her. It will give you time to sit quietly and chit chat. One simple coat of whatever color she likes the best is more than enough to sprinkle a little happy on a really tough day.

5.) GRAND TOUR: Can you imagine how weird it must be to have a brand new home and a brand new family and not even know where the bathroom is? I have bio kids so they get to be the Grand Marshall's of the Hami Fami Home Tour when new foster kids are brought  into the home. They show off every room pointing out the details they think are important. "This is our bathroom, you can put your toothbrush here, don't put it down low or the baby might use it to clean the toilet." *ahem* They show off the bedrooms, the toys, the backyard, the swings, and before you know it they are all playing together and laughing and playing.  It really breaks the ice and gets them together having fun in no time.

6.) FAMILY MEETING AT DINNER: {Not to be limited to the first night, this one is useful every night no matter what your family is like! } Go over exactly how you want the evening to go. For example, "we are going to clean off the table then I want you to do homework, you to do bath, and then switch. When everyone is in their jammies I will call out BED TIME and that means everyone head to the yellow bedroom to read a story before everyone gets tucked into bed." Take the time to go over the next day as well so the newbies, and everyone else for that matter, knows what to expect. Keep it simple, but give them points of interest to help them get through the evening and the next day. Don't forget to include something they can look forward to but only if you can guarantee 100% you'll do it no matter what. Something as simple as playtime after school should do the trick.

7.) BED TIME ROUTINE: {Again this one is useful every night!} New house, strange people, shadows and noises that you've never seen before.... bedtime can be really hard or really scary or really sad. You never know. Take time to read a book, sing a song, say a prayer, talk about your favorite part of the day. Ease into it and make yourself available. I choose to sing and rock the youngest and everyone else is tucked into bed and gets that soothing comfort without feeling babied or pressured into intimate rocking/cuddling. Of course they may beg for a turn and by all means go for it. After I do book and prayers I send everyone off to their individual rooms and make my rounds. Every room has a rocking chair available. Every kid gets tucked in and a song if they want it. I always ask permission to give a kiss on the cheek. (Some kids may be wigged out by that!) Good night's and I love you's really do help. It literally takes me an hour or two to make said rounds some nights. It is worth every minute of my time. Everyone gets some one on one time, a dose of comfort, and a good nights sleep.