Parenting with Faith Over Fear

Yesterday the courts made official what we had been anticipating. After a year, our 4-year-old foster daughter was reunified with her biological parents. There will be another post about that...but as I was having coffee in a quiet early morning house today I read a post by Preston Yancey and felt a sweet reminder of how God is working so many things together for good in my heart and family right now. 


Preston's post has a different point than mine, but in the beginning, he shares a story about times in his life when fear and shame have been attempted as motivators, but what won out was encouragement and faith. Specifically, God powerfully used an obscure verse in Habakkuk to plant a future hope in him when he was 13 years old.

"Look at the nations and watch-- and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told." Habakkuk 1:5 NIV

I have been tempted to worry about the child who has left our home. Her safety and overall development have been my concern for the last year--and now I will hopefully get an occasional visit. I pray hard against recurrences of the issues that led to her removal. I field questions from well-intentioned friends about what the 'what ifs.'

Meanwhile, I am sending three young teenagers into the world at warp speed. My Summer is a mixture of camp drop-offs--where they are out of my sights for 1-3 weeks at a time, preparing for the brand new world of high school, and teaching them the immense responsibility of driving on real roads with other human beings. 

Last week I started compiling a list of life survival/adulting skills my husband and I have yet to cover and I am almost at 200--the same number of weeks we have left with them before high school graduation. In all of these things, there are true safety considerations. They are still minors and my job is to teach them to live outside the nest...but as they become increasingly independent I find myself fighting daily fears of what could happen if things don't go well.

I want them to fly, not flop. While I know that scars and hard knocks are powerfully used to sanctify and develop us into adults who are used by the Lord, I adore these people and frankly, would prefer they arrive at adulthood as innocent and intact as possible.

So, the temptation is to desperately warn them about ALL THE THINGS. Be on guard!  The verse from Habakkuk this morning, however, took me back to being their age. I am reminded that I was never attracted to the fear-mongerers. I wanted to hear from the people who believed in me and spoke to me about the bright hope of the future. I think even of our most recent foster, at least once a week at prayer time she would point to the large painting of Jeremiah 29:11 over her bed and say, "Just pray that tonight, Mama." We all want to reassurance that there is a plan, maintained by someone stronger and wiser than us, for future hope.

Perhaps the most powerful lesson God has impressed upon me in our 4 years of foster parenting is that even our biological children are entrusted to us but for a little while. We stood before our congregation and proclaimed many years ago our belief that they are His. We build all sorts of safety nets, invest in future dreams and give them everything we have--but ultimately, we are not in control of their future. We can either be terrified by this or exhilarated.

May we never let our parental fears drown out our overwhelming hope we have for the life God has planned for the people we love. This is challenging. It requires us to loosen our white-knuckled grip and release them to their loving Creator. It is a daily laying down of our will for His. We must put this phrase on repeat: Faith triumphs fear. 

We want the people we love to be safe and dare I even say wildly successful, but at some point we have to ask ourselves how success will be measured. As for me, I choose God's utterly amazing story. 

"Look at the nations and watch-- and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told." 

The Baton

I have been heavy and jumpy this week--a tightness in my chest and an inability to fully catch my breath.

It has been a season where the hurt of this world has been very apparent in the lives of intimate friends. The death of a beloved mother in our small community (and church family) has been a conduit for tender, tearful conversations everywhere I go--poolside, parking lots after kid drop-offs, over chicken salad sandwiches in delis at midday.

As I was talking to the Lord about it this morning I realized in addition to a funeral today, two of my closest friends are having divorce papers signed, my foster baby has only 1 more week in my home (after a year) and this big house is eerily quiet as all three of my teenagers are off at camps throughout the Southeast.

Yet in the last 24 hours I have had two powerful reminders of how much God is at work--even when it isn't on our time schedule or pretty and pain-free like we'd prefer.

My relationship with the bio parents of our foster daughter has been a huge focus over the past year. God has made my heart truly for them, even when frustratingly navigating the difficulties of co-parenting with people you didn't choose. We've celebrated life events together for the sake of their daughter. In recent weeks, I have started to see a true trust develop that I hope will continue to bear fruit.

The most powerful moment, however, came earlier today after breakfast. Each morning we look at our foster daughter's refrigerator "cal-den-der" to see the day's activities (represented by symbols), the number of sleeps until her next family visit and how much longer until court. As she realized today how close we are to the end, I saw her face twist.

I knelt down to her face and said, "You know, that last day isn't a forever goodbye. Your Mommy says we can still see each other and talk sometimes."

She paused as if to imagine this reverse scenario, where perhaps her home is there and her visits are here. Then she used her hands to make a gap twice as wide as her shoulders. "You know I have a lot of love in my heart? It's big 'cuz so many people love me."

It almost took my breath away.

"Yes, I know," I replied.

"And you know who loves me most of all?" she chirped.

I nodded affirmatively as she pronounced, "Je-sus!"

In an instant, I felt God's peace. It is time to pass the baton.

It can be so tempting to think her earthly safety, development, and growth is my forever job. But that is not what the relay of her life looks like. THIS was the job. Being present, God-with-skin-on, as she learned about her Creator and Savior, was our role in this leg. Our season is winding down, but our loving, sovereign God is worthy of my trust as we pass the baton back to her parents for this next leg.

"Trust and obey, for there's no other way, to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey."

As I consider the wider implications for all the other hard things in my opening paragraphs, and the seasons I have yet to face with my teenagers, my marriage, and challenging relationships in my life one thing is certain...There is a divine story being written.

We can make ourselves soul weary trying to be all and do all or we can lean into the Holy Spirit and rely on His leadership for what batons are ours and for how long.

He sees the big picture. I do not.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,  looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith..." Hebrews 12:1-2 ESV

So, may we run the race the Lord has set before us--not the offroad, overachiever (or perhaps shortcuts) we choose, but what He has chosen. He will equip us, accompany us and lead us through those seasons.

"Consider him... so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted." Hebrews 12: 3 ESV

May

The proverbial winds of change are palpable in my home these days.

The celebrations of the middle school 'lasts' have begun. All three of my children have wrapped up the final Spring sports. The Spring play is complete. High school registration has begun.

In the next 3 weeks, my trio will graduate from middle school, turn 15, test for learners' permits and begin their whirlwind of Summer experiences.

Next month, our foster child is scheduled to be reunified with her biological family after a year in our home.

I realized today that I have created 4 different calendars--on my phone, in a binder, on my refrigerator and in a countdown app to mark the time--as if somehow re-writing it is walking me through heart preparations and making it all more real.

I suppose in some ways it is a non-traditional prayer--a meditation of sorts on what is coming. As I write, I surrender the future to the One I believe holds it all together.

I want desperately to navigate the waters of all these transitions well--for myself and for the hearts entrusted to my care. As much as I am inclined to verbally process, I am trying to spend time being quiet. I want to listen to the Lord and allow Him to tend my heart and guide me in how to love my husband, my three individual bio children and our foster child well.

He has spoken to me most recently through Matthew 6:34 in the Message translation:

  “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes."


So much is coming...even as I type in my quiet kitchen I think I can faintly hear the rumbling of the herd of milestones in the distance. 

I am absolutely expectant but committed to not taking my attention off the lessons, joys and needs of today. Keep me focused, Lord. 

What's Next, Papa?

This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?”  Romans 8:15 (MSG)

I am riding an exhilarating parenting roller coaster in this season, but especially today. I had court first thing this morning to determine the next steps for the precious four-year-old foster child we've been parenting for the last nine months. 


People who have never been through the foster care process often ask me what the significance of a court date means and frankly, they are simply mile markers. Every few months we check in with the legal system to make sure everyone's rights are being observed and to monitor progress on the case and if any changes to case plans are in order. At these hearings, the judge sets a course and tells the caseworkers what (if any) leeway they have in charting next steps in visitations, etc. based on the progress of the parents in their case plan.


The stress of that is hard to explain. It is the periodic reminder that this child I've loved as one of my own's case/ future is not even remotely in my control. I sit in a room full of adults making serious decisions about her future while she’s blissfully unaware at preschool. Surreal. Humbling. Forces me to trust.


I am walking out onto the high dive, surveying the height, calculating the risk...I hear the Spirit whisper, "Do you still trust me?"


A lot happens in a short period of time in court (today, under 20 minutes) and it takes a few follow up conversations to process implications on every one's lives and schedules. 


After court today I had a two hour window before I had to attend our first official high school meeting for my trio. Talk about emotional whiplash! 


As the faculty members discussed rigorous course loads and future goals, the reality set in of all the growth, path charting and decisions coming our way. I am thrilled to see my tribe grow and change, but their exposure to the great big world increases every day. Again, I hear the Spirit whisper, "Do you still trust me?"


In the course of my running around today, my random playlist landed on Turn Your Eyes by Vicky Beeching. I listened to those lyrics on repeat.  


“Look full in His Wonderful Face and the things of Earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His Glory and Grace.” 


I am so grateful to love this Jesus, who meets me in the mundane and overwhelming me with care and concern for my little heart. 

In response to that love, I respond. Yes, I choose to trust. I choose to be lost in the beauty and sovereignty of the Lord instead of my limited perspective and fears. 

I choose to respond with childlike expectancy, "What's next, Papa?"

Counting the Cost

I am entering the hard phase of placement with this sweet little person. 
Four months in. 
Bonded. 
Defenses down and true heart coming through--trauma and all. 
Sweetest "I lub you, Mama." whispered, and even sometimes shouted at me.
Exhausting, sleepless nights thanks to night terrors.
Training up someone else's child.
"Hold me, please" with the most precious look of love, trust and outstretched arms. 
Precious giggles.
The wonder of watching her learn to count.
The pain of hearing her describe scary memories. 
Investing in her bio parents--believing in them, cheering for their health and restoration.
Gambling all our hearts on their comeback.

I am tired.
I am hopeful.
I am a wee bit nervous.

And then, yesterday, I listened for the first time to the lyrics of a song I have owned for over a year.
It has played in the background countless times, but at just the right time, I actually heard it. 

I'm saying yes to You
And no to my desires
I'll leave myself behind
And follow You
I'll walk the narrow road
'cause it leads me to You
I'll fall but grace
Will pick me up again
I've counted up the cost.
Oh, I've counted up the cost.
Yes, I've counted up the cost
And You are worth it.
I do not need safety
As much as I need You.
You're dangerous
But, Lord, You're beautiful.
I'll chase You through the pain.
I'll carry my cross
'cause real love
Is not afraid to bleed.
Jesus, Take my all.
Take my everything.
I've counted up the cost
And You're worth everything.

-The Cost, Rend Collective

I have counted up the cost and He is worth it.
This means loving the people He loves are worth it.
Whether it is the child who isn't sleeping from 11pm-3am or the difficult adults in my life. Stretching, swallowing my pride, going out of my way is worth it.

I am reminded of one of my favorite sections of Bob Goff's book, Everybody Always: 

"Obeying is costly because it’s uncomfortable. It makes me grow one decision and one discussion at a time. It makes me put away my pride. These are the kinds of decisions that aren’t made once for a lifetime; they’re made thirty seconds at a time.”

“What I’ve been doing with my faith is this: instead of saying I’m going to believe in Jesus for my whole life, I’ve been trying to actually obey Jesus for thirty seconds at a time."

I won't do it perfectly.
"I'll fall but grace will pick me up again."

But what about my heart?
"I do not need safety as much as I need You."

This seems like it might get messy.
"Real love is not afraid to bleed."

I am reminded of one of my favorite sections of Bob Goff's book, Everybody Always: 

"Obeying is costly because it’s uncomfortable. It makes me grow one decision and one discussion at a time. It makes me put away my pride. These are the kinds of decisions that aren’t made once for a lifetime; they’re made thirty seconds at a time.”

Earlier he said, “What I’ve been doing with my faith is this: instead of saying I’m going to believe in Jesus for my whole life, I’ve been trying to actually obey Jesus for thirty seconds at a time."

God Writes the Best Stories

Last Fall, we had a 4 year old girl in our home for a few weeks. She had only been in care about a month when her short-term foster Dad was injured in an accident. We took her in for respite care while he recovered.

Almost immediately, I was overcome with a feeling that this was someone else's forever baby. As a foster parent there is always a baseline sense that you are the right-now Mommy while the dust settles, family restoration is attempted and facts come into focus. I am ever aware I am rocking, holding, disciplining and experiencing milestones with someone else's baby. It is the bittersweet nature of this ministry. But this one was different. I had an unusual fire in my belly. The facts of the case were more clear-cut than previous placements and this sweet girl was longing for a Mommy and Daddy in a raw sense.

My husband and I both were both moved to advocate for a foster-to-adopt home to be found for her as soon as possible. In very short order our agency matched her with another family one town away and the decision was made to move her there.

The transition was ideal, in that, I was able to speak to her new foster Mom the day before. We were able to discuss bedtime routine, food preferences and the little things that would make her feel more known as she entered their family.

The new foster Mom and I clicked immediately. I am was able to encourage her via text messaging and pray for her as they got to know one another. She sent me photos and updates. We met for coffee without kids a couple of times. When we were awaiting a new placement or transitioning with a new child, she covered us in prayer. We even got to visit their home and see how beautifully this little girl was acclimating to her new life.

Through all the heart-wrenching twists and turns of the loss of this child's biological family, her foster Mom and I have been united in prayer that God's Will be done and her heart be protected.

This week the foster family passed the last major legal milestone in their journey and signed a letter of intent to adopt. She is at home with her forever family--and has been for the last year--they've been able to experience first lost teeth, Kindergarten, soccer practice and almost 400 nights of bedtime snuggles and growth.

This afternoon I received a series of texts from her new Mama that made me weep and reminded me anew of the faithfulness of our Father.

The original post she referenced was written after an intense emotional night where God's Word (Psalm 23 through Sally Lloyd-Jones) was exactly the balm that fragile heart needed. I am thrilled to report that it was a promise God kept.

And while my friend complimented MY writing, I know without a shadow of a doubt that God is the real author of this story!

I cannot wait for the official court date to be set where this sweet one becomes on paper what God has known all along. She is an adopted daughter, loved, wanted and found.
-------------------------

This Fall, we are three months into another preschool aged placement. A family rhythm has been established. We have bonded. She will forever have a place in my heart as a dearly loved baby of mine regardless of how much longer God chooses to leave her here. And this is the point in the process where it gets emotionally messy. I get fearful. I am tempted to question God's timeline and speed. I want to know the outcome so I can prepare and protect her heart (and those of my family members).

And through these text reminders of His Faithfulness, God sends me a clear message of who He is and how He operates. Not on our timeline. Not in a way we can predict. Always according to His nature.

The story God is writing in both of their lives has allowed me to carry the baton for a season, but He is ultimately writing the story in a way that is full of creativity, restoration and grace.

Glory to God.

A Foster Mama's Prayer for Meeting the Parents

A few weeks ago we received a foster placement--one precious child, younger than the age we typically receive. In God's divine timing, all my big kids were out of town allowing for a few days of individual attention. She arrived with an ear infection, so the first few days allowed me to connect with her as a caretaker in a sweet, uninterrupted way.

 Kate returned from camp on the child's third day with us, then the boys 12 days after that. The slow and steady introductions have made for the sweetest transition of a foster child we have ever experienced.

I was tempted by impatience in new nays as we awaited her arrival. Not knowing age, number of children, gender or arrival date triggered my every control freak tendency. I wanted to know God's plan for my Summer. I wanted to get on with it. And each time my chest would tighten, God tenderly whispered to me to slow down, trust and pray.

I have prayed for this child--without knowing her name or face for months. I have asked others to do so too. I have also been burdened for her birth family all along--praying for them and the challenges that have led them to this place in their story. I looked back at my calendar this morning and realized we actually had a group of friends from the Middle East here praying in her bedroom the week this child was first removed from her parents. God has been at work even in the darkest valley, whether they knew it or not.

Tomorrow we go to court for the first time and I will actually meet the parents face to face for the first time. More than ever, I want to be the face of Jesus to them--not from any literature I hand them or sermon I preach, but by the way I treat them. Lord, fill me with grace instead of judgment, genuine warmth and kindness. Remove my people pleaser tendencies and help me to show them authentic love--not so they will like me, but so they will see more of You. 

Lord, make it abundantly clear to the family we are not in this ministry to acquire a child--but to care for their baby with all we have so they have space to heal and grow and become a reunified family, healthy and whole.

I don't know God's plan for this child or her family--but I do know praying that they can all see and know Him more clearly through this process is the burning desire of my heart.

This is just the first lap of a marathon, Lord. When I grow weary and tempted to question the timelines, the process, the logistics, I pray you remind me to slow down, trust, pray and keep leaning hard into You.

Amen.

"Good" Timing vs. God Timing

I am in the strangest season--a period of waiting for God to deliver on something I feel really 'ready' for (another foster placement) and it is taking longer than it ever has to get a phone call.

My kids are 14 and very independent. I suddenly have a lot more time on my hands at home. I have purposely stepped away from commitments, committees and travel in order to make space to foster. As a result, life feels very orderly and like there is absolutely room in our car, calendar, home and hearts to share the love and provide a place of refuge for a child or two in need. But, the call is not coming.

This is a beautiful thing! It means the needs of hurting children are being covered by family members instead of well-intentioned strangers--or perhaps that there is a decrease in the number of kids who need a safe home. When I pause and really take that in, I rejoice...but there are other moments where I confess I feel impatient and discontent.

I can't help but wonder what God is up to. Our journey as foster parents has been full of stops and starts. In 3 years we have experienced 7 placements ranging from 3 days of respite to 18 months before adoption by the children's family member. Each time a child leaves we press pause to regroup emotionally and those breaks have ranged from a few weeks to several months. Because we view this as a whole family ministry, we have multiple conversations as a family to get a feel for everyone's heart/call until there is a confident peace that we are all ready and willing to re-open our home and our hearts. We have had that for months and not been called upon.

Foster care is unique because it is so full of unknowns--a huge point of sanctification for a person wired like me. I am a planner with a capital P--especially in the Summer when we have so much downtime and my adventurous spirit wants to maximize it all. Yet, the reality is there is only so much physical preparation you can do not knowing gender, age, personality, background or length of stay. I have toothbrushes and clothing on hand for multiple scenarios. I hold on to a limited number of books, games, crafts for our littlest guests. All I need is a kiddo or two to get on with this next chapter...and God, without explanation, says not yet.

He said to them: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority. ~Acts 1:7

The waiting is especially frustrating this Summer because my teenagers are gone so often for camps, trips with friends, youth trips, etc that I have an abundance of free time with an almost empty house. The timing seems so right through my Earthly eyes!

I am trying to make the most of the time. I have even completed the annual continuing education/training requirement 6 months early. I have been playing a mental/emotional game where I imagine different scenarios every week... two little boys, dramatic older elementary girls, a quiet reserved single child, an older sibling who has been 'default parenting' the younger and is threatened by our role, non-English speaking children, different levels of trauma. And I am praying-- A LOT. I have prayed for our readiness, for the child or children who is undoubtably in a traumatic season of their life and for their birth family and whatever challenges they are facing.

I know the willingness and our hearts is what God is really after--but it is still a strange feeling to know you were called, to rearrange your life and then to sit and wait.

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,  to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. ~Lamentations 3:25-26

As I have processed through all of this I have been reminded of the MANY far more painful things people in my life are waiting for--and God has enlarged my compassion for the friends waiting to conceive, waiting to adopt, waiting for a cure, waiting to meet a mate, waiting for a rescue, waiting for a miracle...

I am reminded that regardless of the details or circumstances, in all of it we either trust the sovereignty of the one writing our story or we don't. I am publishing this as my (somewhat embarrassing) confession and as a public commitment to put off the impatience I feel simply because I want to know/plan/control.

"How hard it can be to trust in God’s timing...Sometimes it seems as if we are not even on God’s clock. Yet, there is never a time in which He is not aware of the desires of our hearts... His timing will always be perfect, even when our trust in it is not." -Jada Pryor

..but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. ~Isaiah 40:31

The Call

Last night our city held its annual Christmas parade. The festive, community-building tradition overtakes our town. Broad Street parking is filled early in the day by pickup trucks positioned so family and friends have tailgate "stadium seating" for the big event. Folding chairs start lining the center median hours in advance.  Marching bands and Shrine clowns abound as more than a dozen blocks are occupied by float lineup. Hundreds of participants buzz during the final fluffing on locally made flatbed floats full of tiny mites football players, Girl Scouts, pageant queens and church nativities.

I had to have Kate downtown for a theater rehearsal right in the midst of the madness one hour before the parade's start. As I was navigating the re-routed traffic on my way home I had a flashback to this very night and exact street two years ago when we got the call asking if we would take the baby sister of the two little girls we were already fostering. It was a gut-wrenching question because I knew how challenging it would be. Saying yes meant SIX children under the age of twelve for the foreseeable future--including all day every day for Christmas Break.

I remember my prayer, alone in the car, before I called Ryland to discuss. I was grateful for the countless detours because I needed to drive in the dark--counting the cost. I knew the right answer was yes. But I was afraid.

This is the fostering journey. Counting the cost but walking in obedience--frightened, aware of the risk but trusting that God will be with us--strengthening, helping and upholding.

When people speak of foster parenting they often say, "I could never love a child knowing they would leave. I could never let them go." But I am learning the key to Godly parenting is remembering they are not your possession--they are His.

We have had seven foster children come and go now for periods ranging from 4 days to 18 months and each have left a piece of themselves indelibly marked on our hearts and family life. The precious little girl we had in the Fall is now with a wonderful long-term placement and I am able to communicate regularly with her new Mama. It is a gift to find my role in that scenario as a fierce prayer warrior who knows and adores the child, able to encourage her sometimes weary new family through this transition.

Last Wednesday I ran into the 7 year old boy we had at the beginning of the Summer. He left our home under very difficult circumstances that still sting my heart. Our 'accidental' encounter included big, warm hugs with the boy and his birth Mom. It was a reminder that even after a child leaves, the story goes on and our lives may continue to intersect.

Earlier this month we had the privilege of providing respite for a foster family from our church. I was nervous about hosting a 15 year old boy we had never met, but he was truly a gift. He and my husband have developed a friendship that has continued despite his departure.

All these threads--their lives and ours, seasons of various lengths are being woven together in a tapestry. From our position, up close and in the center of the action, we lack the perspective to see the bigger picture but we trust the Master Weaver whose movements are perfect and full of purpose.

We are in a holding pattern with fostering right now. The combination of some extended travel plans over the next few months and issues within our family that required some focused attention, have led us into a sabbatical season. But I am beginning to feel the stirring again, the call of the Lord to prepare to get back in the game is getting louder in my heart. Frankly, it is followed by questions, doubts, selfish objections as I count the personal cost and fear.

Which brings me back to the flashback of my phone call.  The calls never come at convenient times. I received our first one during the last innings of a playoff baseball game, one in the middle of the night in Israel, another while I was weeping in my driveway after hitting my beloved pet. True obedience doesn't get to be on our schedule.

When we get a phone call for a placement we have no idea what awaits us on the other line--the breadth and depth of circumstances which have brought this child into care. Their gender, age, and name are about all we have. We do not know how long they will need to stay, what issues they bring with them and how God will use each of our lives to sanctify and shape the others. But I am learning there are things we DO know when we get those calls. God will be with us. He is enough. Nothing is wasted. Hearts will be changed.

In light of this almost-Advent season I thought of the 'call' Mary received via the Angel Gabriel's visit to announce she was being entrusted with a child.

I re-read the story from Luke 1in the Message translation this morning and several portions struck me in a new way.

29 She was thoroughly shaken, wondering what was behind a greeting like that. But the angel assured her, “Mary, you have nothing to fear. God has a surprise for you...

Because of where I am in my parenting journey, I realize this is the call we get with each of the children God entrusts to our care--whether through our womb or some other way. Even if our children were 'planned,' He has surprises for us. 

It is sobering and humbling to watch our children's lives unfold. It is a messy and glorious process. I long to respond to His Call with less tight-fisted attempts to control and more submission and trust. The older I get the more I find, I don't want to miss the adventures God has planned for me--even the ones that are painful and difficult. The adventures that leave the scars seem to be the richest ones.

So, we are resting up. Enjoying a restorative break but listening for the next call and praying we have the faith of Mary to respond. 

v 37-38 Mary said, "Yes, I see it all now; I’m the Lord’s maid, ready to serve. Let it be with me just as you say."

Faith in Fostering

We have had the privilege of the addition of a 4 year old foster daughter to our family for the last ten days. Officially, we were 'on a break' from fostering, but she's here through very unusual circumstances and we are certain it was God's Sovereign plan.

I was talking with a friend this afternoon about how hard it is to adequately represent foster parenting through glimpses, tweets, posts and quick encounters. All the red tape and privacy shields make telling the whole story impossible--and it is the frequently the ins and outs of the whole story that make it so remarkable.

There are brutal lows, but the highs are breathtaking and faith-solidifying. The bottom line for me is this: God's faithfulness is never more evident than when we step out in faith. Like the old trust fall exercise, you have to be willing to fall in order to experience the glory of being caught.

Found

There are storms raging on our television screens, twitter feeds & facebook timelines 24/7 these days...Harvey, Irma, Jose. We are overwhelmed by photos of destruction, warnings of impending danger and shifting what-if scenarios.

Off the screens and in our real lives there are countless other storms brewing and wreaking havoc. I am surrounded by people experiencing soul crushing storms: illnesses, financial ruin, addiction, families in crisis.

And in my guest bedroom, there is Little Bit, a precious preschool aged foster child who has already experienced more loss and tragedy in her short life than my adult heart can comprehend.

It is really all so much. Yesterday it felt like too much. I was heavy, useless, walking around in a fog, lost in my own what-if scenarios, frustration with 'the system,' weariness at this sin-sullied world. The realization that I cannot fix any of it left this doer in an identity crisis of sorts.

As I talked about it off and on with God through the day, I felt led to call a prayer warrior from my church and vomit my worries and emotions. She responded by reading Psalms to me over the phone. When we hung up I read a few more in the quiet before beginning my afternoon carline drill.

As bedtime approached, Little Bit, normally an easy going, sweet and compliant child just started wailing. As I tried to nudge her through the bedtime routine, assuming it was exhaustion fueling her outburst, she started screaming, "On my inside, I just feel so much pain. It hurts so much I just want to scream." (Yes, those were the words of a preschooler!)

Keenly aware of my inability to fix,  I wrapped her wet, post bath body up in a towel and sat with her while she screamed. Perched on the toilet seat, I pulled her into my lap and started to rock. She asked if we could go rock "in a real chair" so we moved to the porch. After a few minutes of quiet, we returned to her bedroom. Getting her settled, I reached in a basket of books and pulled out Sally Lloyd-Jones' Found: Psalm 23. Psalms had ministered to me earlier that day, and it seemed a good choice for this moment.

Little Bit had never been to church before foster care. When I said the name Jesus to her a few days ago she asked "Who is he?" So as I read this paraphrased for children rendition of Psalm 23, beautifully illustrated with a little lamb and a tender shepherd who feeds, guides, protects and takes care, she hung on every word. This wasn't an old familiar story, it was a revelation.

In the center of the book, it says "Even when I walk through the dark, scary, lonely places I won't be afraid. Because my shepherd knows where I am. He is here with me."

As I read these lines Little Bit slapped her hand on the page, looked straight into my eyes and implored, "Is this real? Is this true?"
With a breath-taking realization that this was a sacred, important moment, I managed to squeeze out a "Yes. Yes, it IS true."
"Keep reading," she commanded.
"He keeps me safe. He rescues me. He makes me strong and brave."
She listened intently as I turned the page...

Look at that promise: He is getting things ready...just for this little lamb. And her heart that needed to scream because it was in so much pain? It is his desire to fill it with so much happiness it can't be held inside.

I was deeply convicted by how little faith I have had. I have been tied up in knots trying to make a plan for Little Bit's life---fearful of her spirit and heart being crushed by 'the system' rather than trusting her Creator.

And the final line? It says:
"Wherever I go I know...
God's Never Stopping
Never Giving Up
Unbreaking
Always and Forever Love
will go, too!"

In that moment I thought surely David wrote this Psalm so that Sally Lloyd-Jones and Jago would reproduce it JUST FOR THIS NIGHT.

We grown up Christians can make things so complicated--the Gospel is clear and true.

I am not the boss of anyone's life, but there is an AUTHOR, a RESCUER, a PERFECTER, a SHEPHERD.

He sees us in the dark nights of our pain. He knows what we need. He is trustworthy. He is indeed a very good shepherd.

"He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart." Isaiah 40:11a

I'm so grateful.

The Hardest Part

When we were preparing to open our home to foster children, I prayed daily over the bedroom where these children would sleep. Each time a car pulled in my driveway to introduce a new friend to our family I knew deep in my soul this was a child for whom I had prayed long before I knew their name. As I bathed, tucked in, and tended each child, I wondered how long they would be part of our life. Even though we are not pursuing adoption, I allowed myself to wonder with each individual child if they might become a permanent part of our family. Much like a school girl with a crush, I'd whisper their names with Scott on the end. It wasn't a wish or a prayer as much as an acknowledgment that God--not us--held the future--and anything could happen.

In the last two years of fostering, we have had five school aged children in our home for periods ranging from 10 days to 17 months. Twice, we have had the difficult task of requesting a child be removed and placed elsewhere. It is not a part of the fostering process that anyone likes to discuss, but it is a reality I felt led to write about--if for no other reason than to quiet some of the self talk running through my brain at 2am.

It is a difficult reality to admit. My family enjoys challenges. We believe in grace and second chances.  Neither of us considers human beings items that can or should be "traded in" when the going gets tough. We are not shocked easily. We don't want to raise bubble wrapped children and we certainly never entered into foster care thinking we would "give up" on a child--especially ones who had already been let down by the adults in their early lives.

Early neurological development is impacted by life experience, disruptions to bonding by being moved around, witnessing and experiencing violence and even highly stressful pregnancies. All of these things are outside of the control of a child--and yet, their behavior is impacted in ways they can't just "straighten up." You cannot discipline and correct a child of trauma with the same methods that worked for your non-traumatized children.

Sometimes the behavior is such that even with knowledge of the reasons behind it, a family cannot tolerate it. For safety's sake, every heart and developing life in a home has to be considered.

I deeply believe in the need for loving, stable foster families and gulp hard when I write about the challenges. I do not ever want my words to be used to justify someone's decision to turn the other way and ignore the plight of the orphans among us. I do, however, think it is vital that people understand the deep and real challenges of this system. I trust that God will continue to call people to this work not because they've been shown only a rosy view.

It is frequently generational cycles of sin that result in children coming into care. Those of us on the frontlines of this ministry are also plagued with sins of fear, pride, self-reliance, and greed. Sinners helping sinners in a sinful world. Of course, it is broken!

Both times we have requested removal it has been with an overwhelming sense that we could not serve the therapeutic needs of the child and the others in our home as well. Both decisions have held a moment of eyeball to eyeball unity with my husband. Each time as the child was driven away, I have cried tears of loss, resignation, regret, shame, and relief.

Even knowing the intimate details of our situations and trusting the wise counsel of those who agreed with our moves, I cannot help but feel ashamed that we couldn't 'cut it,' fear that maybe it wasn't really that we 'couldn't' but instead that we simply wouldn't. I've had to lay down a Messiah complex I can be reluctant to admit. I'm realizing this work is sometimes a marathon and other times more like a relay. We aren't always called to cross the finish line, but instead to merely run the baton for our leg.

As I've processed some of my disappointment, I've recognized my preference to 'lick my wounds' privately--reserving the exposure of my vulnerabilities to only a few. I tend to shout from the rooftops when life is good and go quiet when I'm wrestling. May we never forget there is a deep blessing in the wrestling as well.

This is the part of the journey that has stretched and grown us most--especially in our reliance on the Lord instead of the opinions of others or our own wisdom and life experience. Each time has been a great humbling, but also a reminder that following God where He leads means letting go of the cleaner/neater/more flattering-to-our-own-image story we would write. I am reminded that God uses it all--every broken and confusing piece.

This is real life. This is where growth happens.

Checking In & Catch Up

I never intended to let so much time pass before checking in...and now it seems there is so much going on that I do not know how to catch up. Because the intent of this blog is chronicling for posterity as much as anything else, I fear I must resort to hastily recorded bullet points!

It is the second week of May and somehow my children are two weeks away from becoming teenagers and the completion of their first year of middle school. I haven't been able to really process this passage of time in a meaningful way, but I am definitely "in the thick of" watching their strengths and struggles reveal themselves and leaning hard into the Lord for wisdom on what coaching is necessary when--and how to continue to make home a safe place where they are free to truly relax and feel loved and built up to return to the arena of life.

I am pleased with where they are, who they are now and the tiny glimpses I get into the possibilities of where they are heading. But I am also grateful we have 6 more years together! As the clock's ticking gets louder I am increasingly aware we cannot teach them everything or launch them as perfect adults--we must narrow down our objectives to include lifelong skills like seeking truth, building strong community, and faith in their loving, Sovereign God. (Much easier to write in a sentence than to implement line upon line into human lives.)

Our family has changed a lot recently. I accidentally ran over our beloved pet cat in the driveway a couple of weeks ago. It was truly horrific. The accident, the dealing with the aftermath as I was home alone, the telling of my husband and children, and the grief. Through it all there were powerful lessons about telling the truth--even when it is hard, and the beautiful grace and comfort my children and husband offered to me despite their own sadness.

About a week and a half after the accident, my children gifted me with a kitten for Mother's Day. A couple of days after that we welcomed a new foster child into our family-- a delightful, fun and high energy 6 year old boy.

As I type this we are on our 5th day together. Much like a 2nd or 3rd time mother, it seems this transition has been smoother than the previous ones--largely because we have been here before and can recognize many parts of the situation as simply being phases--we know they can/will pass with time and investment. I have also learned to love hard and laugh often. It feels smoother to not be dramatically rising and falling with every extreme high and low.

This week we had our first court hearing. It was scheduled to begin at 9am, but we sat in the hallway waiting for almost 3 hours due to a delay. Directly across from me was a darker skinned woman with a familiar face. After about an hour we recognized each other as the biological Mom and the right-now Mom of the same precious little boy. Our affinity for one another was immediate and we spent the next hour and a half getting to know each other and discussing our shared young man. I don't know where this is all heading, but what a blessing to begin with a face to face, heart-to-heart. I was able to assure her that we are not trying to "take" her boy and we want nothing more than for them to become a healthy family again. This relationship is beginning as a partnership--not us versus her, but both of us for HIM. I pray it continues.

I also pray he learns to sleep. We are on a newborn schedule with multiple wake ups each night and days that begin before 5am.

Little man is calling so this is all for now...

A Ram in the Thicket

Several months ago as we pondered how to spend our Spring Break, we felt an urge for grand adventure—something outside the norm. We explored several options on our travel bucket list and did not find peace. After hours of inconclusive research, we opened up our Young Life magazine and saw an advertisement for a trip to the Holy Land scheduled during the exact week of our Spring Break. 

We had been contemplating a rite of passage for our almost-13-year-olds and this trip seemed divinely appointed. It departed 12 days after Kate, Ryland & Parker’s church confirmation and included a chance to be baptized in the Jordan River. 

Our family of five joined a group of 25 alumni and friends of Young Life, led by a Spirit-filled Palestinian Christian for a remarkable nine-day journey through the Holy Land. I’m not generally a fan of group travel, but this crew was divinely knit together and formed a remarkable sense of community in a short time. In addition to the dozens of historical and holy sites on our journey, we were exposed to 'living stones' throughout the Middle East as we had encounters with the real people behind the scary headlines--Messianic Jews, Muslims, devout Jews, Palestinian Christians, nomadic Bedouins...

I hope to detail many of our experiences later. (I documented many of the locations on my Instagram account if you want to see daily pictures and recaps.) 

The most immediately life changing experience for me, however, occurred while praying in a private section of the Garden of Gethsemane last Tuesday. I was overwhelmed by the reality of how completely Jesus surrendered His life there--and what His heart must have felt as He spoke to His Father about the assignment He'd been given. We sang a few songs as a group, then split up to pray. I could not shake a portion of “Mighty to Save” and journaled its words as my prayer: “Take me as you find me. All my fears and failures. Fill my life again. I give my life to follow everything I believe in. Lord, I surrender. I surrender.”

Under these lyrics I scratched out a verse that came to mind...“The Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” 

Later that day I got an email from a strong but struggling, single Mama I have known for a couple of years. She asked me to pray for a court hearing Wednesday regarding her ability to regain custody of her children who have been staying with a family member for a few months. I asked my family and a few others on our trip to join me in praying. 

When I texted her to see how it went, she replied the family member was unable to continue caring for the boys and they were being placed in foster care. This is particularly upsetting because in our town the shortage of foster families means 80% of kids in care get sent to other parts of the state, severing their community attachments, starting new schools and pulling them farther away from their families and case workers (which complicates reunification.)

A few weeks ago, Ryland & I mutually felt our time of sabbatical and recuperation from our last long term foster placement was coming to a close. We were feeling a call to open our home back up. After conversations with our kids, discussing what we had learned from previous placements, we agreed to some parameters as a family—only one child, out of diapers but younger than 10. (And, preferably, a boy ;-).  A couple of days before we left for the Middle East I called our case worker to let her know we were "turning on the vacancy light" when we returned. 

Upon hearing the news of my friend’s children, Ryland and I both had a sense that we should make ourselves available. As is so often true in life, this was NOT what we planned, it didn't meet our reasonable and well-thought through parameters, but the sense that God had put this woman and her children in our lives “for such a time as this” was undeniable. 

Because we were 7 hours ahead, we had some time to ponder. Our day’s agenda started with Communion in the Garden Tomb, a location many believe to be the site of Jesus Crucifixion and Resurrection. As we observed this holy sacrament in this sacred place, our need to be willingly broken became clear. If we believe what we say we do, our lives are not meant for ourselves, but to be shared. With bated breath and peaceful resignation, we sent an e-mail to offer ourselves as a placement option for the boys. We explained that we were out of the country for a few more days, but could be available upon return if needed. 

It was 3am EST so we waited and prayed—wondering if God really wanted us to take this on. We discussed Abraham being called to take Isaac up to Moriah for sacrifice--and it felt in many ways this was what God was calling us to do--to be willing to offer our comfortable family life to Him. We did not know His ultimate plan, but knew in our core we needed to respond in obedience with hearts that trusted Him. The fact that we were IN Jerusalem (built on Mt Moriah) as all this was unfolding was truly unbelievable. It was in God's hands.

As dawn approached at home, it was afternoon in Israel. We arrived at the Dead Sea, 1,338 feet below sea level, literally the lowest place on Earth. We pondered the beauty and symbolism of this being the place on Earth He chose to come. As we met that night to process what we were learning, looking out over the very salty Dead Sea, God drew me to Matthew 5 in The Message.

13a “Let me tell you why you are here. You’re here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth...

14, 16“Here’s another way to put it: You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world... If I make you light-bearers, you don’t think I’m going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I’m putting you on a light stand. Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives..."

That night as we were preparing for bed, we received a call from our agency caseworker informing us the placement had been accepted and we would be receiving these two little boys Monday.

My mind immediately scrambled to the practical needs. I sent out an email to friends asking for help locating all the gear a 22-month-old would require: car seat, high chair, stroller, sippy cups, crib... We were returning changed from our trip--and to a changed life. 

After 24 hours of travel, we returned home Sunday afternoon to a porch full of gear. We disassembled a bed, moved in and assembled a crib, baby proofed our tween-friendly home, made multiple trips to Wal-Mart, installed car seats, stocked up on toddler-friendly food and got accustomed to the idea of two new little ones joining our family. Despite the busyness a peace that surpassed my understanding pervaded, as we KNEW in our core God was driving this situation.   

Monday morning, jetlag had me up before 5am completing our task list, unpacking bags and preparing to receive. We did not know what time the boys would come, so we stayed close to home all day. Around 4pm I received word that the case was being re-evaluated. Finally, at 5:15pm we got a call. In a complete plot twist, it had been decided that the boys were staying with the family member after all. Resources had been identified to enable the current relative to keep them--a blessing for the boys' sense of security. And, honestly, once I got over the 'wasted' time of preparation I exhaled a sigh of relief. Oh, the emotional whiplash of foster care!

And then, I remembered the image of a ram in a thicket. Just like the Genesis 22 story...God wanted obedience and trust to trump our plans. This time, it wasn't about the actual placement, it was about the posture of our hearts. The preparation time had not been wasted at all--it had simply been for a different purpose than I assumed.

Today, as I ponder it all I realize what a powerful and life-changing lesson God was teaching us. I am reminded of the ease with which we could fix our eyes on Him when we were in the Holy Land--free of distractions and in the presence of so much evidence to support our faith. I am exceedingly grateful for this object lesson God gave us to walk through with our children. 

I spent this morning returning borrowed items, but the crib is still in the room just in case. Our vacancy light is back on should a child (preferably not in diapers ;-) need a soft place to land--and I pray the lessons learned from this scenario are ingrained in our hearts. 

Our Sovereign God is on the throne, He is always up to more than one thing and He is worthy of our faith and trust. And the verse hanging on our guest room wall remains as true as ever: 

"For I KNOW the plans I have for you..." Jeremiah 29:11

Sunshine and Sabbath

I never intended to take such a long break from writing. But, I have been quiet on purpose.


Three weeks ago today our foster daughters were adopted (along with their siblings--a total of five children under 12) by one of their family members. We have all been in an adjustment period. I have not had a chance to speak with the girls yet, I am respecting the wishes of their adoptive parent to give them time and space. I am praying God will intervene in their hearts and assure them how truly, deeply and forver loved they are by us--even though we cannot tell them ourselves.

We are in a Sabbath season, a recovery mode for our home and hearts. Our family of five has bounced back sweetly to prior routines but with an altered rhythm. We are not the same people we were 17 months ago. And that is good.

For most of my 42 years the tendency of my flesh and my emotions is to rush to judgment quickly. I like to handle things, wrap them up in a tidy bow and move on. It's not just me. Our busy world loves memes, sound bites, t-shirt statements and bumper stickers. 

The older I get the more realize that most of life is not just a simple narrative. I want it to be so...a quick adage at the end of every challenge that I can walk away with like a badge proving I've conquered that lesson. I crave a headline of redemptive meaning to every troubling scenario-- immediately.The last year or so of life has taught the importance of letting life's lessons simmer. I am learning to get comfortable with not having an answer or simply stated conclusion. I randonly came across a post I wrote 6 1/2 years ago with this same theme, an ironic reminder of just how long some life lessons perculate.  


So, even though I'm not very productive as a writer these days. I am still here. 


One day I will probably share more about the day the girls left and all the conflicting emotions of our 17 month journey with their family, but not yet. The story is still in progress and I can't even clearly identify the main theme--except maybe this: Don't rush it. Have faith. Let Him work. Be still and know. 


The mental picture I have of my heart and soul is sitting in an adirondack chair in the crisp Fall sunshine. Eyes closed, head back, feeling and listening but not rushing to declare any conclusions or lessons just yet. I am reading, thinking, living, spending a lot of time in the Word...basking in all of it. It feels like the healthy thing to do.

"When God intervenes and we get a chance to know we're blessed and to feel blessed, nothing is more appropriate than seizing the happy moment...Even if all we do is lean our heads back in the sunshine of our soul's Sabbath and take a minute to feel the glad emotion, it is meant by God to be medicine for our weary souls." -from Esther: It's Tough Being a Woman by Beth Moore (page 194)

We are in a season of sunshine Sabbath for our souls and it is full of peace that transcends understanding. God IS good and it IS well. 

Riding the Roller Coaster

I have been staring at the computer screen this morning--typing and backspacing--attempting to chronicle and process the last few days.

At our last family court hearing in July we were told our foster daughters would have a decisive court date in October. My bio family and I discussed finishing strong and being intentional with the remaining weeks. Last Friday morning I asked each of the triplets to tell me one lesson/truth they hoped the girls would leave our home with and think about how they could personally emphasize that in the next two months. It was therapuetic to feel like we were working through a transition plan.

That very afternoon, as I pulled my car into the pick up line at the girls' school I received a phone call informing me that the court date had been bumped up 6 weeks to this Wednesday--and it would likely be a final hearing with the children leaving from the court house for permanency with a family member.

Gulp.

Suddenly, our last 6.5 weeks had been reduced to 5 days (two of which would have the girls away on a weekend family visit.) We were stunned. The neat and tidy transition plan imploded. While we dealt with a tide of conflicting emotions and concerns, we adjusted our sails. Saturday to Tuesday were spent processing, praying, preparing, making memories and dealing with anxious/excited/conflicted hearts.

Although there was a strong chance the girls would be leaving Wednesday, there was still a possibility they would not. This hearing would involve a new judge and a newly appointed attorney representing the girls' interests. With so many variables, we were advised to be ready for anything. Obviously, this is much easier said than done when dealing with such a deeply emotional set of circumstances.

Practically speaking, the girls' family visit over the weekend allowed me to pack several tubs of their belongings. I hid them behind a sofa in our seldom used formal living room--lest their presence add to the anxiety. Two empty containers stood at the ready for last minute packing of daily items and in season school clothes.

We were covered in prayer, love and support by friends and church members. There was a supernatural peace as we put one foot in front of the other walking in faith.

Monday I felt led to call the family member who is seeking to adopt the children to discuss our long term roles in their lives. I respect her position as their forever Mom and hoped she would see fit for us to be involved as extended family and support. I took a deep breath and asked her if she intended our goodbye to be forever or merely a change in role.

We spent 20 minutes talking. It was a positive conversation. I felt peace that despite how emotionally taxing this chapter happens to be, God's Hand is all over it.

On Tuesday morning the girls prepared for what might be their last day at their current school. How do you say goodbye as a child when you are not even sure if it is truly farewell?

During breakfast, our 5 year old GiGi ate the last of her favorite "ham" (which is actually turkey but that's another story.) She asked me to buy more at the grocery store that day. I had a strange moment of realizing she would likely not be around to eat it--and pondering whether to buy it in faith or not do so in reason.

Nevertheless, after dropping all the children at school and meeting a friend for coffee, I found myself at Publix buying GiGi's ham, Bug's favorite comfort food (chicken pot pie), and ice cream sandwiches as a coping mechanism for myself. After a bit of stress eating in the grocery store parking lot I went home to pack the girls' overnight bag, wrapping it in a black garbage bag in the trunk of my car so as not to visually trigger anxiety. It would be there 'just in case' but no one had to know.

Around noon I received a phone call that court had been postponed six weeks--to the original October date. Ironically, the call was not from an official source, but rather from the family member seeking custody. Yet another wink to the partnership in the interest of the children I felt being slowly formed. We were able to strategize on how and what to tell the children.

I removed the duffel from my car, put the nice clothes that had already been selected for court back in the closet, unpacked the duffel and tried to process feelings with a heart suffering from whiplash. I drove to school to tell Bug--so she would not spend her last hour telling people goodbye, only to show back up at 7:50 this morning.

Yesterday afternoon was full of conversations--in school lunchrooms, carlines and around the kitchen table--with foster daughters, bio kids, case workers, teachers, school counselors, others who have become like family to our girls...then we went to the pool, ate dinner outside and tried to restore some normalcy at bedtime.

Clearly, there is more to this chapter. Love to be given. Hearts to be shepherded. Lessons for all involved to learn.

There is no tidy bow to tie this all up in, because real life is often not neat and pretty. Real hearts, fears, hopes are involved. But it is surprisingly OK and it will be well in the end.

Last week I read this and it just keeps bouncing around my spirit:

Living in the will of God is more about knowing and trusting his specific promises than receiving specific direction (Hebrews 11:8). It’s more about resting in his sovereignty than wrestling with my ambiguity (Psalm 131:1–2) I’ve learned and continue to learn that embracing God’s will for me largely consists in transferring my confidence from my own minuscule capacity to understand what’s going on and why to God’s omniscient and completely wise understanding (Proverbs 3:5–6) Jon Bloom "You Don't Have to Know God's Will" 

I do not know what God is up to--but as I told nine year old Bug this morning--this cake isn't ready to come out of the oven. It needs a bit more time. As I was writing this post, I got up to pour a glass of tea and walked by a wall of virtues and verses I posted some time ago for the kids. Two words commanded my attention...Patience and Courage...

Our job is to not rush or impede God's timing, but to patiently walk through what He allows each day.

May we do so with courage-- eyes and hearts wide open--for whatever is to come.