For the Days Spent Grieving

Jesus replied, “you don’t understand now what I am doing, but someday you will.”

John 13:7 NLT

I picture myself climbing up into the Father’s lap and Him holding me in His strong arms. He’s whispering that He’s got this and allowing me to grieve the outcome I most hoped for. Allowing me to grieve “my way” all while He’s looking at the bigger picture – you know, the one I can’t yet see. The pain is real and He’s offering me a place to let that pain go.

We had to say goodbye to one of our precious foster babies this last week. As I watched the social worker walk her out our front door I realized that I would probably never see this little girl ever again. I sat on my couch that afternoon and thought about the time she spent as our daughter. We worked through things that I thought would surely break us – or at least it would surely break me. She stretched us and grew us. These huge hurdles bonded us and then, in what seemed like a blink, it was time to say goodbye.

I felt the loss of her deep inside my bones. My bones ached, my heart ached, deep inside my soul ached. I saw her wondering eyes as she was walked out the front door. I wondered if she understood what was happening. I wondered if she was comfortable, or God forbid scared. But then I remembered that she may have had a few sets of parents in her short little life so far, but one things remains the same and that’s that she has always been HIS. He loves her more than I can fathom. He walked out that door with her that morning and walked in the next door holding her hand. That doesn’t eliminate my feeling because I love her so much, but it gives my heart peace knowing the only one that is truly in control was standing smack dab in the middle of this situation as well.

Continue Reading HERE

Saying Goodbye

If I had to choose one thing we’re told most when people find out we foster babies it’s that: “I could never do that. It’d be too hard.” Can I let you in on a little secret? It’s too hard for us to.

While I don’t think everyone is supposed to be foster parents, this statement makes me twitch a little. Our hearts are no less big or loving than anyone else. It kills us to. Just as much. Our hearts love these kids as our own. We go through the ups and downs – withdrawals, nightmares, physical pain, emotional pain, moving, schedules, fears, visitation, court, appointments, etc. All these things create a tight bond. We are bonded by what we overcome together. Once we overcome, we sometimes have to say goodbye. I don’t know why this is the plan but it is.

We’ve said goodbye four times. Four times I’ve washed and packed up our kids clothes, their favorite blankies, the stuffed animal we gave them on their first night, their toothbrush, hair stuff, bath wash, toys, and favorite snacks. Four times I’ve sat at my computer and written out their schedule, likes and dislikes, and given our contact info. Four times I’ve gone through and printed out pictures of our favorite memories for them to hopefully have with them for a lifetime. Four times we’ve prayed over our kids before they were carried out the door for the last time sometimes crying, –  sometimes screaming, sometimes looking at me with wondering eyes. Four times I’ve closed the front door and fallen to the ground crying, wondering if we did enough, loved them hard enough, told them about Jesus enough, prepared them enough. And let me tell you –  I’d do it a hundred more if that’s what we’re called to do. This pain of loss is not as bad as a life of not knowing them would be. They grew us, tested us, taught us, and were fiercely loved while they were ours.

This morning was that fourth time. After our last goodbye I didn’t know how we’d do it again… then the phone rang. We got a call for a little girl and instantly we reacted. She needed us and although I didn’t know if we’d make it through the first month in one piece, I quickly learned we needed her to. She taught us the most out of all our kids. She taught me a new level of patience among other lessons. Although I’m slightly scared to think of why I needed to learn to have more patience, I quickly learned the lesson just the same. She grew us and stretched us.

She was walked out our front door this morning. The same door she walked through for the first time at the beginning of this year. Our only hope is that she left better equipped for this transition than when she came. All I could tell her was how much I loved her and how beautiful she is then she was gone. Unlike with our other kids, we will probably never see her again. She took a piece of my heart with her when she left. She may never remember us, but our prayer is that she remembers how loved she is, remembers how someone is always going to be there for her, remembers she is HIS.

Through these moments of loss God’s taught me that He is in control. He’s taught me that He is good because He gave us these kids even for just a little while. He’s shown me, and my mother’s heart, how much He loves me by making me a mama.

I walked back into my house this morning and saw the couple toys we didn’t send on the floor, her high chair with cherrios and a few pieces of waffle left on it, her picture on our coffee table, and I felt the gravity of the loss. But I also felt the gravity of the love. God knew we’d get that phone call and say yes. He knew she’d strip us down with challenges before He’d build us back up, stronger than before. He knew we’d have to say goodbye before the phone even rang. I don’t know why, but one day I’m sure I’ll look back and see that even in this pain His hand was there.

Jesus replied, “You don’t understand now what I am doing, but someday you will.”

John 13:7 NLT

Even In Brokenness, He is Good.

“Come sit down,” my husband said for the 26^th time that night. It was nearing midnight and I was anxiously peering out the peephole of our front door. How could he be so calm in a moment like this?! We were about to meet our first child and he wants me to sit down! He has a way with rationality. Apparently the car won’t actually pull into our driveway any faster if I’m looking out the peephole or sitting on the couch. Anyways, at the door I stood.

The car eventually pulled into our driveway and two Officers of Social Services carried a car seat with a newborn baby girl out into the night and straight into our hearts. My life was about to change in ways I didn’t yet understand.

I made a “deal” with God, you see. I would love any child He brings into our lives unconditionally and He would protect me from the “heartbreak” of a relationship with birthparents.

Yeah – right.

We had Baby A for approximately 21 minutes when the CPS officer handed me the phone number for Baby A’s mom and told me she’s expecting a call tonight. I’m sure he noticed the obvious deer in headlights look on my face so he gently told me, “she’s scared to.”

I have this sign hanging above the window in our kitchen that reads, “If God brings you to it, He’ll bring you through it.”

Well I did make that call to reassure Baby A’s mom that she was here and she’ll be taken care of. A short 3 days later I found myself walking into my very first visit holding Baby A in my arms and handed her to her mom for her scheduled visitation. I monitored that visit and would continue to monitor for the rest of the time Baby A was in our home.

God refined my heart through this hard experience.

It’s doesn’t take much work to take the easy road. Profound, I know.

Where I thought I’d rather save myself the pain of knowing Baby A’s mom I would have lost the experience of creating an irreplaceable relationship with a girl that now looks up to me as a mom. I learned it wasn’t about me, but was about them – not about what I would loose, but what they would gain. This is a lesson that stretches far beyond foster care, although I’ve had the difficult opportunity to learn this lesson more than a couple times as a foster mom.

So often we jump to the conclusion about how things should go – how they’ll work best. This can be so dangerous for ourselves, and ultimately for our faith.

God doesn’t promise us a life without pain, He just promises to walk through the pain with us.

Sometimes those painful moments are the most refining moments.

Continue Reading Here

May is foster care awareness month. There are so many ways to involve yourself with the foster youth in your area. Whether you have an hour to give, a day, or forever, there is an opportunity to help those that need your love the most. As always, please reach out if you need help connecting to these opportunities.

For the Mama Without a Mama

I remember the moment she said it. She was standing at the door of my room, and I was sitting on the floor going through my closet. She said to leave her bedroom as it was for a little while in case I ever want to go sit in there and talk with her. She told me to rock in the rocking chair and feel that this separation is only temporary.

She was my mother. She had cancer, and I was just barely considered an adult – too young to lose my mama who also happened to be my best friend.

I did lose her just a few short weeks later. My life turned upside down and inside out. It was just she and I, but on that second to last Friday in May, it became just me. I found myself visiting that chair many times before we moved. My husband and I were engaged a few months later and married before a year was up. That’s when the big moments began. I got engaged with a ring like the many my mama and I had talked about sitting on the couch in our living room. And our wedding was wonderful – complete with a precious tribute just for her. But she wasn’t there, and I knew these sweet moments would only be the beginning of things I’d go through without her.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t terrify me to become a mom without her here. She’s the one I called 20 times a day and could ask anything. There was no filter on our relationship, nothing was embarrassing, and she was the wisest of women. One of the hardest parts about her being gone was knowing she wasn’t here praying for me and encouraging me to draw closer to Christ. There came lesson number one.

Continue reading here...