A Time For Change

I remember sitting across our kitchen table from my friend, Bridget, who was doing our home study to complete our foster care licensing a year ago.  She asked me if I thought I would have trouble with any of the core competencies as a foster parent.  One of those competencies is to be able to work with the family services team toward reunification with the birth parent.  In training they made sure all of us knew that most children who enter foster care will return home.  For foster families who hope to adopt this can often feel like discouraging news.  The thought of saying goodbye to a kid that we would soon love didn't bring warm feelings when I thought about it, but to be really honest, that isn't what scared me the most.  My biggest fear was how to relate to birth parents.  When I thought about it my mind raced toward the cliff of worst case scenarios where all birth parents hate foster parents for trying to replace them.  All out war.  False accusations.  Tense meetings.  Lasers coming out of their eyes when they saw me holding their baby.  I was afraid of being someone's enemy or feeling like they were mine.  What if I couldn't do it?  I was nervous, and I told her so.

Knowing that, you can imagine why my heart was pounding out of my chest when I felt God nudging me to walk across a jail cell and hug L's mom the first time we met.  You can also imagine my surprise when she received it and wept on my shoulder like I was her friend, not her enemy.

How was it possible that I immediately cared about her and wanted her to succeed while I held her newborn baby in my arms?  

God.  That's the only way it was possible.  That's the work of His Spirit.  His grace.

Without Him I never would have walked over there and hugged her and I would have been indignant about why this baby was in foster care.  L's parents didn't respond to us like I expected either.  They have never been mean.  I am SO THANKFUL.  They just have deep strongholds and make terrible choices.  If I gave you a summary I doubt you would find it difficult to dismiss their parenting capabilities.  Given their huge obstacles it might seem virtually hopeless that their lives will ever turn around.

I have wrestled with what I believe about how far God's arm is able to reach to save someone.  I have been confronted with whether I believe that a drug addict's life is as valuable as mine.  Do I believe God loves them like He loves me?  Would I have made different choices if I had been in their shoes since childhood?  The answer is humbling.  I have no confidence that I would have done any better if I had been dealt the same hand.  Without much grace, good parenting, and wonderful support systems in my life I cannot predict what my life would have looked like.  I am more thankful than ever for all of those things (thank you for the millionth time, Mom and Dad).  When I get to know people who have had a really hard life I can feel guilty for that.  Or I could just try to insulate myself from said people so I don't have to wrestle with these feelings.  Instead, I am convinced that God didn't protect my life just for me.  He has worked in my life and given me so much grace so that I can be whole enough to help others.  I want them to know Him and His grace that has redeemed my life.

In the few months that we had with L's mom around I felt such purpose.  I felt empowered by the Spirit to love her.  We honestly had a good relationship.

Did I have moments where I was frustrated with her?  YES.  I remember I hit the wall in September when I felt like I was being asked to work twice as hard while she was giving almost no effort.  God came to me again and reminded me that He did that for us...only much more.  While I was yet a sinner and my heart was still cold toward Him, He loved me still.  He took my punishment so I could be healed.  This was an opportunity to enter into a new understanding of the depths of His love.  I don't always feel like embracing these opportunities though.  I felt tired and it didn't feel fair.  I felt sorry for myself for a little bit and then pressed on.  I had to.  I needed to.

I didn't know how things would play out.  I didn't know how long God would ask me to keep wanting reunification for L and her parents.  At what point do you stop working for something you have laid your heart on the line for?

 I sought the wisdom of a veteran foster mom (Lisa Johnson) who had been supportive of my desire to see her mom overcome her demons and get her life together.  We've never met in person, but across the miles I know she is a kindred spirit.  My question was, "At what point in your case did you know it was time to stop wanting reunification?  How do you know it's time to stop fighting for that in your heart?"  Her answer could be likened to the one you would get if you had asked her how you know when you're in love.  She said, "You'll just know."  No formula.  No checklist.  Okay, then.

She was right.  That day came for me back in October.  It was the day that I knew L's mom wasn't ready to do what it was going to take.  I reached out to Lisa again about what was going on and she affirmed what I was feeling in my heart.  She told me it was time to really focus on what is best for L now.  Please hear me.  That didn't mean I stopped caring about her mom.  I just knew that she wasn't ready to be a mom for L.  I feel the same about her dad.

Regardless of my feelings, my job on the team is not decision making about L's future.  That is a real adjustment when you have had all the decision making power for biological kids.  I will not be the one to make any recommendations to a judge.  This is a tough spot for a lot of foster parents.  You spend about 95% more time with a child than anyone else on the team but the reality is that you don't decide what is in their best interest.  On a good team, you have a voice in the room and your perspective matters, but you have to lay down your striving to be the decision maker.  

Note to fellow foster parents:  We have the best job on the team (I might be a little biased, but still).  We get to know, love, and influence the real flesh and blood little person everyone is talking about.  We get to make the biggest impact on their life.  None of your time and investment will be wasted.  It matters and it will help shape who they become.  Don't forget how significant that is or what an honor we've been given.  Don't let the flawed (and painfully slow) process or sometimes unkind people make you forget why you're really doing this.  REMEMBER.    

On Wednesday, L's team did make a recommendation to change her plan from reunification to termination of parental rights/adoption.  The judge gave his approval.  This is a big deal but for now it doesn't actually change anything.  We still have a LONG road but we are headed in a new direction.

Jeff and I agree with this plan and I feel freedom in my heart to say that one day I hope we will get to introduce this sweet little girl to the world with our last name.  We love her and want to be her forever family.  There are no guarantees, but we are praying toward that end now.  Thank you all for praying for us and for her over the last 11 months.  Thank you for covering the court room in prayer on Wednesday.  I told Jeff as we waited that it was amazing to know how many people were interceding for the people in that room.  If you are a prayer warrior for all of us involved in foster care please know how much that means.  Prayer is the work that no one sees but is directly connected to the only One who holds all things together.  You are a vital part of this process.

Please keep fighting for these little ones on your knees.

I'm On Bloglovin Now!

Happy Monday, everyone!

In my usual fashion, I'm late to the party...but I'm here!   I just signed up to follow up some of my favorite blogs on Bloglovin.  I added my blog as well, so follow me there if you want!  The button is at the top right corner of my page.  

I'll be back soon with a real post. :)

He Inclines His Ear

The last several days have been intense.  I'm going to be processing all that happened for a while, but there are some things that are so real and precious to me right now.  I'm bound to forget some of these things so I want to give testimony to what God has done while it is still fresh on my heart and mind.

Last Friday evening we were just planning to fire up the barbecue grill and have some family time.  The weather was gorgeous, Jeff's parents were in town for the night, the kids were in a good mood, and I was breathing deep of God's kindness.  I treasure gifts like these.  I was standing in the kitchen when I heard my phone go off.  I couldn't get to it in time and I heard Jeff's ring next.  I missed that one too.  I knew who the calls came from and I called back immediately.  Our weekend plans were suddenly about to change.  We held a brief family meeting to prepare everyone for what was about to happen.  Jeff's parents handled it beautifully.  The kids were excited.  Thirty minutes later a petite, blonde headed little girl came through the door of our home with a caseworker.  No bags, no extra clothes.  Just a little girl entering a stranger's house with the clothes on her back.  Although every little girl is just as precious, I couldn't believe I was getting to lay my eyes on this one.  She is close family to L.  I thought we would probably never meet her, and there she stood in our house.  She sucked her thumb and twirled her hair, and kept her emotions in check.  I was amazed. The kids didn't waste any time dragging her off to play.

I felt a lot of things over the next 2 1/2 days.  Emotions are not always helpful in my life when I let them sit in the driver's seat, but they are also good and God given.  The emotions and the peace that carried me along while she was here could only have come from God.  I felt Him.  You know those moments when you say yes to something He is asking you to do that seems outside of your capability, and you feel His presence in a powerful way.  His nearness was undeniable.  I felt His love for her, His patience, His steadiness, and His heartbreak for her pain.  I feel like I am doing a poor job explaining that with words, but it's the best I can do.  HE WAS HERE.  He is always here, but I was so much more aware of it than I usually am.

Our kids embraced her and wanted her to feel safe.  They were patient and kind.  They picked out a couple of their stuffed animals for her to have in case she wanted to hug something.  Micah even gave her a dollar to spend at Target when she went to a baby shower with me on Saturday.  Oh my heart.  There is hope that he will be generous with his money!  I think she helped all of us forget about ourselves for a little bit.  She helped us realize how blessed we are and how petty we can be.  I know some things that were eating me suddenly went away.  

On Saturday night when she was having a hard time falling asleep, as we were rocking, I just asked her if she knew who Jesus was.  She said no.  I had the honor of all honors in a lifetime to tell her about Him and how much He loves her.  I knew that she may not realize what good news she just received, but I trust God will water that seed in her life.  I am still overwhelmed.  I feel zero pride in it.  I feel undone by the privilege to get to be the first person to utter the name of Jesus to her.  The kindness of God amazes me.

We said goodbye to her on Monday afternoon.  I had 30 minutes to prepare for that transition.  I knew we wouldn't have her long, but I loved her like it would be forever.  I want her to be safe and cared for.  I cried like I haven't cried in a long time when she pulled away.  Goodbyes are hard.  Even with tears running down my cheeks I can say I would rather know the sweetness of loving a little girl and feel the sting of saying goodbye than to miss out on knowing her all together though.  I don't know if she will remember being here.  I doubt she will, honestly.  It will always be a precious memory for us though.   I have priceless pictures that I never dreamed we'd have for L someday too. 

God used her presence to awaken my heart to the darkness children are exposed to all of the time that I don't acknowledge or feel enough about.  I'm reminded again that it's okay to let our hearts get broken for them.  We'll be okay.  God will bind us up.  It would probably be good for everyone if we shed more tears over war, persecution, trafficking, abuse, oppression, orphans, and widows...and then did something about it.  She reminded me that there are more kids that need us to care and act on their behalf.  Whether it's long term foster care, emergency placements, respite care, advocating with lawmakers, social work, or prayer...they NEED us.  They can't get themselves out of unsafe situations.  They cannot make the abuse stop.  They can't take care of themselves.  That's a grown up's job...and guess what, I'm a grown up.  As Jeff and I sat in a training on Friday afternoon  he showed me these verses he had just read that morning.

O LORD, you hear the desire of the afflicted; you will strengthen their heart; 

you will incline your ear to do justice to the fatherless and the oppressed, 

so that man who is of the earth may strike terror no more.  

Psalm 10:17-18

We are naturally left with the question of "how" God will do justice to the fatherless and the oppressed.  The answer has to be us, doesn't it?  I just can't find another viable option.  If His Spirit lives in us then we are His ambassadors.  We are His hands and feet in the world.  I don't think the question we should ask ourselves is "if" we should be involved, but "how" we should be involved. 

If something is important to our God, it needs to be important to us.  

If it breaks His heart, it should break ours.  

If He inclines His ear to the fatherless and the oppressed, we need to incline our ears as well.   

 I know we're all unique and so we will wave banners for different things.  We have different burdens and passions.  We are part of a Body and all of us have different gifts and callings.   When we are all surrendered to God and let Him use our gifts for the common good and His glory...it's breathtaking.  Maybe you have been following the last few blog posts about foster care and God is stirring your heart.  Maybe last weekend wasn't just for that sweet little girl or our family.  Maybe He is calling one of you to join Him in caring for the vulnerable among us.  It's a battlefield.  There is warfare when you engage in it, but we have been given everything we need to overcome the devil's schemes.  God is stronger.  You are engaging in something so close to His heart.  He will not let you go.  Say yes and hold on to Him.

I Would Still Say Yes to Foster Care- Part 2

Today, I am honored again to have a good friend here to share her story of how foster care became part of their family's journey.  It's honest and powerful.  Their vulnerability is so challenging because they allowed themselves to love when it was incredibly risky...and when it hurt.  God's healing is real and He never leaves us alone in the valley.  What a reminder..  Please meet, Danielle Kuntz.

This is how we roll. :)

 I believe that the decision to become a foster parent is just as unique as the actual foster care placement, but they all usually begin with uncomfortable and scary yeses. For us, there were several but here are just a few I will share: there was a yes to less one-on-one time with our biological children, there was a yes to having to stretch our mostly one income family of 4 to a family of 6, there was a yes to added tears and heartbreak, there was a yes to fighting for the rights of parents who most people were highly against, and there was a yes to knowing that this wouldn’t be easy. Even though those “yeses” were enough to cause us to run as far away as possible from foster care, our big “YES” was the one that proved to be our anchor during even the most heartbreaking and trying days- the “YES” to God’s big picture plan. 

Our journey began with a desperate call to accept a 7 and 14 year old sibling set before our licensing was even finished. Our oldest biological child was 6 then and we felt very nervous about agreeing to these siblings but somehow we had tremendous trust and peace about it as well. After praying about it for the 20 minutes that we had to decide in, the feelings of peace won out and  just like that, the next morning we were about to have two more girls added to our home- one being a teenager! Like I said before, this was a placement that needed a home as soon as possible but our licensing was not quite complete so they rushed it forward and managed to get it complete before the girls were to arrive.

The next morning was filled with a couple of sweet friends coming over and helping us with the last minute bedroom details to make our house a home for these girls. While I was running a quick errand, we received a call from our caseworker saying that there was a change and the emergency placement decided to keep the girls. For some reason hearing that hurt so badly. I knew very little about these girls but the moment we said yes, my heart began the beautiful yet grueling process of deeply loving strangers in only a way that comes from God. It’s grueling because this profound love opens you up for deep pain and disappointment but yet it’s beautiful because it truly is a super natural gift to love someone in their distress.  There were a lot of very confusing and surprising tears that day but we knew it was just a part of our journey.

A few days later, we got another phone call. This time it was for another sibling set: a 2 year old little boy and a 4 month old little girl, but both with possible severe medical needs. We were told that the little girl had a stroke in utero resulting in an uncertain amount of brain damage and the little boy had a blood clotting disorder that could perhaps be a sign of leukemia. If you thought saying yes to a teenager for us was a tough call, this one far outweighed that intensity. Once again we went to our knees and had a decision made within minutes of the call. We knew that it had to be a yes and felt that our rushed licensing was meant for these kids. 

I look back at those very emotional first days with such a grateful heart. Even though it was chaos, it ended up reminding us of the unwavering faithfulness of God that would catapult us into our new normal.

The next months were hard and brought more tears than I wanted. It was as if I was treading water in an unending sea. I truly understood the song by Hillsong,“Oceans” where it says, “Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders.” Singing those words are so much easier than actually going through it. Who really wants to have their faith be tried that hard. It is one thing to make a decision to engage in someone’s mess but it is so very different to invite that mess actually into your home, your safe place every single moment. But as much as we struggled, God sustained us.  He sustained us through every sleepless night, every rage of anger, every slap and kick, and every tear from our biological children asking for their old life back. He sustained all of us. He even gave us a heart to love our foster kid’s mom well. I made her cookies and sent her letters. We vowed to show her honor and respect in any way we could. I wanted to be on her team. And then one day we received a call that changed everything; she had unexpectedly died. I sobbed and sobbed like she was a close friend. During the weeks to follow, we explained as best as we could to our little man about his mama and he cried in my arms. I still remember how he would just stare at her picture for minutes without a single word. He began asking for her all the time and he insisted that even though she wasn’t breathing anymore her eyes where still open. It was one of the hardest things to watch his little mind try to understand. We felt helpless and heartbroken.

Because of the loss of his mama, we have had to look past his difficult behavior and ask God to show us the real little boy under all the pain. Even a 3 year old has layers and natually, he still seeks to control everything that he can. This most often has taken place at night. For him, bedtime is either super great or super horrible and on one particular evening, we got both. When he finally turned the corner and allowed his anger to subside, we just sat in bed and talked. And while we talked, I couldn’t help but think about him as a grown man. Just as he was falling asleep I said, “Buddy, one day you’ll probably be a daddy.” He opened his eyes and looked at me and said,  “And then you’ll be an old lady and I’ll keep you safe.” Then he kissed me on the lips and said, “now we’re married” and fell asleep. 

I’ve found that with God, there is always beauty in the pain; 

glimpses of hope abound when we have eyes to see them.

The journey from our “yes” to today has involved every type of day you can imagine… we have seen failures in our parenting as well as the victories. We have learned a whole new way of life.  We have laughed louder and cried harder.   So here we are, almost one year later after their mama passed away and only a few short months away from our adoption date. There is so much excitement about adding to our family but it has had a great cost. We have walked through all of the health issues and thankfully most of the concerns for both kids have proved to be so much less than they initially feared. We still have some hurdles with Baby A but she’s doing so well. We have had times that we feel very blessed to be used in this way and other times where we feel entitled to get our “easier” life back. I have seen a whole new monster emerge from me when I am pressed too hard and in no way feel like a saint for saying “yes” to foster care and adoption. Any pedestal we shamefully placed ourselves on for all of our good works has crumbled before our eyes. We have learned a whole new level of brokenness and vulnerability that has birthed a gentle and long suffering love for these kids. They have become ours in every way.   

God has been so kind to our family and has shown us the sweetness of Hosea 14:3, “In you the orphan finds mercy.” I was spiritually that orphan and they were physically that orphan; and we both have found mercy during the process of foster care. 

Does anyone really choose the hard just because? Usually not, so to ask if I would do it all over again isn't a question of “is it worth it.” It’s more of a question of am I called to it. I resoundingly would say “yes” all over again. In fact, I don’t know if we are even done fostering. There is a huge need and I just cant help feeling that I have a responsibility to worship God through taking care of the least of these. So my challenge to anyone reading this post is to just ask God if this is for them. That’s how it began with me. It was one small question that God gave me grace to ask and that slowly turned into other questions. And his grace greeted me at each of those doors. 

Oh, and a week ago our little man randomly walked up to me and said, “I want you to be my mommy forever and my old mommy’s eyes are closed.”

Grace upon grace for all of us. 

I Would Still Say Yes To Foster Care- Part 1

As we round the corner to our one year anniversary of becoming foster parents I have been reflecting on how it feels when your vision of something collides with reality.  I have watched friends suffer sleepless nights, behavior issues that were more than they could handle, difficult relationships with bio parents, emotional burnout, and having to say goodbye to kids that they cared about.  A friend we went through training with recently told me, with one of her foster kids by her side, "I'M DONE."  I felt overwhelmed with sadness for her and those precious kids who have been through too much already.  Burned out, emotionally drained, physically exhausted foster parents are everywhere.  It is hard to see someone drowning and feel like you have no life boat to send them.  I want to dedicate some of my posts to help encourage those who are knee deep in this muddy water.  I also want to paint an honest picture for those of you who might be seriously thinking about joining us.  There is always struggle in things that matter.  It always feels like more than we can bear at some point in life.  Whether that comes through foster care or a million other ways, life is just hard sometimes. But some things are worth it, and we're better for it in the end.

Hear the good and the bad, but don't weigh them on a scale.  Please just go to your knees and ask God with eyes wide open if this is what He is asking you to do.  

Over the next couple of days I want to introduce you to some very dear friends of mine, Laurel Becker and Danielle Kuntz.  God crossed our paths over a decade ago when we were all in college or fresh out. Those were the days of doing inner city and international missions over summer break and dreaming big dreams of what the rest of our lives would look like.  We all got married within a year of each other.  We were spring chickens just trying to figure out how to be adults.  There is too much to tell, but believe me, it hasn't been all rainbows and unicorns along the way.  We had no children when our friendships began.  Now there are 12 kids (7 and under) between our three families.  We have not yet attempted a reunion with this wild bunch.  We're all waiting for someone else to be brave enough to risk their house being set on fire.  And although all of us hoped adoption would be a part of our stories at some point in life, I do not recall any of us dreaming about doing foster care.  For me, it was at the bottom of the list of possible routes toward adoption.  BUT GOD.  He has a way of changing our hearts over the course of time.  Sometimes it happens in an instant and sometimes it is a very slow process.  However it happened for each of us living hours apart from each other, we all ended up sitting through our nine weeks of foster care training and getting licensed to become foster parents within a year of each other.  We didn't plan it that way, but God clearly did.

These friends have been some of my few out of town confidants over the last year.  They have been faithful prayer warriors and it has been a comfort to have friends in the trenches with us.  Our stories and placements have looked very different.  I have learned a lot from them as they have been a step ahead of us.  I want to introduce them to you because I know and trust their love for God, and their surrender to Him.  I know they are leaning into the pain and choosing to love anyway.  They are obeying the call God placed on their lives to love children not born to them, and to love their broken families.  It's been hard, it's been messy, and it's been exactly what God needed to do to deepen their faith, and ours.

Today, I am honored to have Laurel here on the blog.  This is their story.  Please stick around.  I promise you'll be glad you did.

Even before Dave and I were married, we knew we wanted to adopt.  For a million reasons, adoption was on our hearts, particularly because we love the picture of the Gospel in it, and because my husband doesn’t know his own biological mother.  Seven years into our marriage, we had two biological children and were swimming in the “what next” question of growing our family.  We had explored several adoption services both domestic and international, but none of them ever seemed to be right.  Initially, when Dave suggested foster care I shut down the idea entirely. In many ways fostering seemed like the ugly stepsister of adoption-so painful-so uncertain-so much stigma surrounding it.  Honestly, I was terrified.  Obviously,the Lord had other plans for our family, and my heart softened.  We began our journey through training and received our license almost two years ago now.

Going into the process, I had so many ideas about what fostering would be like, all of them underscored by my desperate attempt not to have any preconceived ideas.  Nine weeks of (often heavy and heartbreaking) training left me feeling like I had at least an inkling of how to encounter and journey through the brokenness of our foster children and their families.

A couple of months after our license officially opened, we met Z.  She was a beautiful blonde-haired, blue eyed two-year old with a huge smile and a half body cast.  We loved her from the beginning.  Over the months she lived with us, we watched Z grow leaps and bounds in communication and development.  However, the more she grew, the more apparent it became that she had been far more broken by her experience than anyone had imagined.

“Atypical.” That’s the word everyone within the system used to describe our situation. “Z is atypical.  Usually when they’re this young they don’t absorb this much trauma.” “Your case is very atypical-most of them aren’t this complicated.” Honestly, for a season, we were drowning. What initially had appeared to be a very straight forward case and child soon became insanely complicated. Z had doctors’ appointments, therapists, visits with her mom, dad, and siblings, weekly phone calls with each of them, and we had FSTs and court appointments to make. Moreover, Z herself became defiant, and was prone to rage fits and even putting herself in danger. We didn’t know what to do because she was too young for therapy to truly benefit her, and we struggled to reach her at home. Moreover, I was pregnant which seemed to be serving as a trigger for Z’s anger and behavior and to be wedging apart my relationship with her.

I felt like a failure.  We were miserable, and I didn’t know what to do.  We didn’t want to disrupt Z’s placement with us, but we were terrified that she would end up hurting herself in one of her fits.  Eventually after much prayer, we met with some friends of ours who also happened to be licensing workers and foster parents for eight years.  Over some wonderful Peruvian food, we poured out our struggle, our heartbreak, and our fears.  After we finished, they lovingly suggested that we contact her caseworker about finding a different home for Z. I’ll never forget what they told us that night, “I know we tell you all the time in training, ‘Never disrupt a child,’ but this is an exception.  No one could have known this, but your home is not a good fit for her.  It’s not your fault; it’s not hers, but she needs to be somewhere else.” It was incredibly freeing and incredibly heartbreaking.

We called her caseworker a few days later and shared our hearts again.  Less than it was about removing Z from our home, it was about getting her into the right one-one where they had behavioral training, access to better therapies than we did, where she was the youngest child. Little did we know that the same week we began praying about disrupting, the family that had her brother began praying about pursuing the possibility of having Z in their home as well.  God is so good.  Z was able to live with her brother, in a home where they had weekly visits from a child therapist in their own living room and where the parents were behaviorally trained. It was such a sweet affirmation of one of the hardest decisions we’ve ever made. Even more exciting, Z was able to reunify with some of her family a few months later. 

When we called our licensing worker to let her know our decision, she assumed that we would want to close our license. Although we were exhausted, we still knew that we were not done in foster care. We left our license open, but took an eight-month break.

Seven weeks ago we took our second placement. Our son was born last July, and in February, we brought baby O into our home. He’s four months younger than Ike, and we’re learning about what it’s like to have functional twins. His case brings its own set of difficulties, and although they are totally different, they are still incredibly complicated and new water for us to navigate

Fostering has been an incredibly eye and heart-opening experience for our family. It has been probably the most difficult journey we’ve ever traveled together, but also one of the most blessed. It is painful, one of our friends calls it the ministry of a broken heart, and that is so true. To love a child or children, to make them your own, without knowing for how long, and also while hoping for healing in their own families often feels like more than I can even process let alone live out.

But it is a calling. To love the orphans (even the situational orphans) is so dear to God’s heart, and we have grown so much in following His call.  We have been able to watch our biological children love on the children who have come into our home-to see them struggle through what they want or what is convenient and to defer to each other and to our foster kiddos; it is so incredibly challenging.  The struggle in my own heart has been as well.  So often, I find myself torn between how much I love our foster littles and long to adopt them and my deep desire for healing in their own families.  My flesh wants to keep little O; I love him, and he feels like my own. But I long for his parents to want him, to be able to make the decisions they need to bring him home. He is the youngest of four in our home and his own, and frequently I find myself thinking about all of the moments and smiles and stages that his own family is missing.

I also find myself wrestling the selfish part of my flesh as well.  It was so much easier to only have three children, to not have two infants. This is hard, inconvenient, and noisy. Oh, my flesh is ugly and prone to extremes, and foster care has made that so obviously apparent. It is often a war between my pride in how well O is doing and in my feelings of being so unskilled at parenting four children.  But God. How he is faithful in using my feeble offering to love on these littles and to grow me in Him.  I depend so desperately on Him, and I cannot imagine fostering without knowing Him. It would feel so hopeless.

So why do I still do it? Believe me, it has nothing to do with my own goodness and everything to do with the Lord. When we said yes to bringing O into our home, I was absolutely terrified. I wanted to say no, to close our license, to believe that we aren’t cut out for this, and to give up. Most days I feel so absolutely ill-equipped and under-qualified.  But God. It is His calling, and He is faithful to carry it out in us.  So we journey on in this crazy adventure.  It is a moment by moment obedience, and it is often difficult and gut-wrenching.  But he makes us brave, and we have been so incredibly blessed to get to live out the Gospel day-in and day-out in a very obvious way in our home and with our children.

Foster care is absolutely a calling.  It is not for everyone, but I think it is for many people.  It is scary and many times risky, but isn’t that true of so much of the call of Christ?  It is teaching me about selflessness and about what it means to be a servant to “the least of these.” I have been blessed so much by this journey, and that is not of me, but of watching the Lord work through these moments in kiddos’ lives.  We foster, not for ourselves, but for the kiddos, in hope, that they might see and know that they have always been wanted and loved by us, and much more importantly, by their Creator.