Focusing on Fear

Here are some of those things you hear a lot as a foster parent:

"I could never be a foster parent... I'd be too afraid to get attached."
"I could never be a foster parent...  I'm afraid I'd love them too much."
"I could never be a foster parent... I'm afraid it would be too hard if they had to leave."

I've thought a lot about this. I believe most of the time, when people say this, they are outwardly processing very difficult feelings, and I try not to run too far with these statements. I know they aren't saying I don't love my foster babies. I know they don't think I'm unattached. And I hope they don't think it's easy for any of us to say goodbye.

I understand that the idea of foster care can be very scary. I wrestle with that fear every day. But here's what I've been thinking more and more frequently lately.

The risks involved in foster care are not all that different from the risks involved in any type of close relationship.

When I was pregnant for Big Brother A, there was a lot of baby loss that hit very close to home. I mourned with the friends and coworkers who lost their little babies (both preborn and born). I struggled with knowing how to offer comfort when I had not experienced the same loss.

And I became afraid.

It is hard to fully experience joy when fear becomes mixed in.

I allowed myself to feel the weight of the uncertainty that Big Brother A would become team member #3 in my home. I started mentally framing things in terms of "if the baby is born".

I hesitated to attach. I loved my baby. But I didn't want to love my future with the baby. Not until the baby was safely here and the future was fully certain.

Around 18 months later, we discovered Big Brother A's peanut allergy. Everything was so unknown, and little things like grocery shopping or playing at the playground were suddenly very scary. What if Big Brother A was accidentally exposed to peanuts and something terrible happened? It was so painful. It filled me with fear. All of the risk of attaching so fully to another person resurfaced.

The possibilities of losing my child during pregnancy, losing my baby to unpredictable circumstances, or losing my baby to complications surrounding an allergy may not share the same probability as the possibility of losing my foster baby from my forever family. But they are very real. The weight of the risk is the same, no matter the likelihood of loss.

I think every parent, every wife, every husband, every child in a loving home, has already started to experience the reality of possible loss. This can cause fear in any of us, in any circumstance. When we start to focus on that fear, we start to miss out.

When my focus is on my fear, I miss out on the beauty of attaching fully to the people in my life. I put myself through the pain of the worst case scenario over and over, when maybe I never would have had to experience it at all.

When my focus is on my fear, I stop trusting God to do what is right and good. I stop having my faith in the only one who has any real control over my situation.

Most of life comes pretty short on guarantees, but this is something I hold to as certain:

"We know that God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28)

This isn't talking about God making everything easy, or always giving me what I want most. This is talking about making me into a person who looks and acts like Jesus. This is talking about little, weak, fearful me being able to pull through amazingly different circumstances by God's power alone, and emerging stronger and closer to Jesus through those painful times.

There are so many scary things about foster care. No one should enter into this journey unaware of the types of hardships that come along with it. It is totally legitimate to experience fear in considering fostering. It's wise to think through the implications for yourself and your family. And ultimately, God might not have equipped you to be a foster parent. He might not have gifted you in specific ways that would make you good at this. You might know that the burden of stress and the uncertainty of it would not be the best thing for you or your family right now. That's okay. Not every family is meant to be a foster family.

But let's not let our decisions stand on fear. That first fear of pain is not a good resting place.

"The Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline." (2 Timothy 1:7)

Don't let it be fear that keeps you from considering foster care. You could be the person who overcomes fear despite uncertainty, and is able to someday help a foster child through their own fears as they process the pain of loss, separation, and uncertainty. Maybe, like me, you'll have to face fear daily, and will constantly be in a process of re-surrendering your emotions, thoughts and actions to God. Maybe, like me, the fear will be an ever-present reminder that it is all for God's glory, and a constant encouragement to look ahead toward Heaven with joy and anticipation.

Only by praying often and praying hard can a mommy constantly cope with the possibility of child loss. 

But I think any flavor of parenting gives a taste of this fear and uncertainty.

Maybe you're the person who needs to tackle this idea, only to arrive at the other side without a plan to foster but with a solid understanding of why this is not for you. Know your gifts and know your resources. Trust God to work for your good, wherever he leads, no matter how painful. Don't be afraid to wonder if it's for you; and if it's not, embrace that. Find other ways to invest in the orphan and widow in your community. God does not call all of us to do the same things, and we can find ways to support each other in our separate callings.

Let's stop standing on fear.

Losing What is Most Precious

So far today, I have not been a very nice person.

I've been upset because I lost my wedding ring. I looked all over the place. I checked pockets. I dug through every toy bin. Josh moved furniture and we checked under and around (most) everything.

My wedding ring is precious to me. It has special meaning because of what it means and who it is from. It is special because I have worn it faithfully. It is special because my sweet Baby S loves it and spins it on my finger, and every time I silently promise him that this ring is a symbol of the stability and constancy that he shares in my home. And it has monetary value, too. We couldn't replace it - not when that would make it that much longer until we can build up a down payment for a house.

I thought I had lost something precious to me. And I was crabby about it. I was unloving and unkind. I knew that I had no excuse to do wrong. I knew I was sinning through my attitude and my actions. And I continued to make excuses for myself anyway.

And then there was a doctor's appointment for Baby S. The appointment itself was fine. He's healthy, happy and growing. But the interaction with Birth Parent was painful, and confusing, and left me feeling a little crazy. I was now worrying not just about losing someTHING precious to me, but also someONE - my beautiful little sweet boy who knows me as Mommy.

I didn't want to lose one of my very most precious someTHINGs. I didn't want to lose one of my very most precious someONEs.

I scrolled through my Facebook feed and saw lots of Good Friday posts. That's great. But I wasn't feeling it. How can I feel it when I'm worried about something so big and so heavy?

And then I found my ring. My beautiful ring, that I thought was lost forever.

And I remembered.

Good Friday is about losing what is most precious to ultimately gain what is most precious. Good Friday is where I belong most, when I am feeling torn open and totally crazy over the idea of losing my sweet son. Good Friday is not just about Jesus losing his physical life, but about Jesus being totally separated from his Father. Good Friday is all about a Father losing his most precious Son.

I don't want to lose my baby. I don't want to be the mother who loses her son. But I can find hope here. I can find rest here. I can find sanity in my craziness. I don't understand what is happening in Baby S's case, and I am broken and confused as I approach this Easter with court looming just a few days after.

But I know that God's peace is ultimate. I know that life and joy with Jesus is forever.

That doesn't take away the today-pain. But it does add joy that can coexist with my deepest sorrow.

Today, I am thankful for Jesus. I am thankful for a Daddy in Heaven who would knowingly and willingly walk into losing his son, for my sake. Losing his most precious someONE, for a broken someone who didn't even know him yet.

I love that.

Happy Good Friday, friends. May you find joy and peace in Jesus today, no matter what you are going through.

Things I Never Thought I Would Do

Sometimes I feel like I'm walking through a world in which I don't belong. I've always had a passion for adoption, but I didn't always have a definite plan to foster. I'm sheltered. I'm non-confrontational. I like people to like me. This foster care world is full of moments I never expected to have in my life.

I never expected to know my way through the county Hall of Justice. I didn't picture myself waiting in long security lines with people who are there for all sorts of reasons, reasons that make me nervous if I stop and think. I never expected to have a seat where I normally sit in a court room, or clothes and routines that are normal for court days.

I didn't think I'd ever find it normal to get unexpected calls from lawyers, specialists, nurses or case workers. I didn't think I could ever get used to being constantly assessed on my home, my parenting style, and my relationship with someone who gets to live by totally different standards than I do. I didn't picture sending my baby away four times a week in a van with people who don't always keep him safe and often have no experience with babies.

I didn't picture myself celebrating my baby's birthday quietly, alone, and without my baby. Twice now I've prayed and mourned through a baby's first birthday, wondering if my baby is safe, if my baby is growing and happy, and if my baby is with people who are even celebrating that beautiful milestone.

I didn't think I'd be reaching my seventh wedding anniversary and living in a rented apartment. I didn't think I'd be washing dishes by hand and trucking up and down two sets of stairs to a shared pay laundry facility by the time I had two little boys.

I never thought I would feel so under-equipped. So broken and drained, at times, that I've had to pull into parking lots to get a good cry so I can come home ready to be with my family again.

But then...

I never thought it would be so easy, and so necessary, to have a relationship with someone far from God. It has sometimes seemed hard to have people in my life who still need Jesus. My closest friends often go to my church and follow after Jesus, raising their babies to know about him. It's hard to reach outside of that bubble. Well, it used to be. Now it's not such a stretch.

I never thought I'd have so many opportunities to be the one who treats everyone the same in the court waiting area. To be the one to make eye contact with the rude employee and ask them about their day. To speak a kind word to the not-so-kind, overtired, and overworked state worker or office assistant on the other end of the phone.

I never knew I could be content to live with less. I didn't know I'd be strong enough to walk through most of my days with the satisfaction of truly appreciating my little cozy corner of the world. It's hard to want to do more and be limited by physical space, but I can see God growing me in it. I can appreciate safety and comfort. I can appreciate the people I share my space with. And I can appreciate that home has become more than a place to me. It's a feeling, an atmosphere, that I can help foster and that will fill any and every place my family lives in together. I know this is true because no matter where we go, home comes with us. This is the feeling that my children will remember someday when they think of home. This is what I will look back on when I am old. This is what fills my heart with contentment.

I never thought I'd have the chance to pray so devotedly for little boys I would, in many ways, only know by name. I never thought heaven would seem so real, and so near, as it does when I'm missing my babies and praying that I'll meet them again some day in a place where we can all be whole and together, loving Jesus face to face. I never thought reliance on Jesus would be something I would cling to and cherish so desperately as in the moments I am holding my smiling nine-and-a-half month old baby boy and breaking inside as I think about what his future might hold. Or in the times when I'm having a conversation with my three-year-old, who may grasp even better than me that we can love Baby S wholeheartedly all while knowing that he is a sweet gift that we share with another family.

In this, I have seen Jesus. I am realizing that my brokenness is a gift. I could never do this on my own. The more I feel over my head, the more I know deep down that I am right where I belong. Sometimes I feel with such certainty that I should not be able to move forward from where I am - that things have broken too much, and that I'm too little and too weak to do what is right.

And then, when I am able to carry on in truth and love, walking with Jesus even though my heart knows I can't take another step, I am absolutely convinced that I have seen God working. When I am able to handle my sins and mistakes in a graceful and humble way, I know for sure it is not from me. And it fills me with hope that he can use me, broken as I am.

Little Things Monday: My Big Helper

There are some pretty tough moments with little ones. Three-year-olds can be so charming one moment and so difficult the next.

This is one of those moments where I felt like maybe something is going right in this little boy's upbringing.

Big Bro A picked up this bag from the shelf all by himself and started off with it. Sure, we had a shopping cart; he didn't need to carry it. But his sweet little heart told him to help Mommy, and he did it all on his own. I love it.

I'm grateful for a little man who is growing up into such a big helper. I actually love bringing him to the store with me for real now (versus when they're super little and it's really much faster and easier to go alone). He keeps me company, he helps me find things on the shelf, and he helps me carry the groceries. Well... unless he goes into an overtired tantrum. Oh, three-year-olds. Generally, though, bringing him with me brings me so much joy.

I'm thankful for Big Brother A, my great little helper.

We have a bed! ... Again!

In September of 2013, Josh and I were getting ourselves set up for foster care. We really didn't need much, but one of our biggest needs was either a bed or a crib to make room for our foster babies.

God provides in the bigs and littles. The timing was perfect and beyond what I had expected. I love when God uses people to meet each other's needs. You can check out our post about getting Big Brother A's toddler bed here.

You know what? Big Bro A is starting to outgrow that little bed. He's 3 1/2 now. Josh and I have been talking about looking around for a bigger bed for him. We weren't ready to make a priority out of it, budget-wise. He could technically still fit in the little bed. It was just getting a little less roomy.

Guess what? One of the amazing people we have had the privilege of meeting through foster care offered up a free race car bed and mattress. It couldn't have been more perfect for our little dude.

We might not use the toddler bed right away. But now we can, if we need it. You never know.

I just love that our God is a God who pays attention to detail. The big questions - how long will Baby S be here; how do we love on his Parent and still keep healthy boundaries; what does our future family look like - those won't be answered any time soon, despite my wish for answers! But the little things make me remember : God knows. And he cares.

And this bed? Awesome.

Ignore the cat. She's not your friend. This is the only time she will look cute to you. The other times she will be hissing.