I am the type of person who suffers from obsession. Some of you just laughed out loud, and/or spit your drink out of your mouth onto your keyboard. Shut up. Don't judge me. At least I'm aware of it.
I struggle with this aspect of my personality because it often feels like sin to me.
Clearly I do not/must not trust God about whatever the set of circumstances are that drive me to obsess. Right?
Add to my obsession, the need to "fix" things to come out the way "I" feel they need to be fixed and you have a recipe for spiritual disaster, or really just disaster in general.
But, having recognized the area of my life in which I struggle, God has rescued me with His Word, an entire CHAPTER of His Word to be exact. Here it is:
1Do not fret because of evildoers,
Be not envious toward wrongdoers.
2For they will wither quickly like the grass
And fade like the green herb.
3Trust in the LORD and do good;
Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness.
4Delight yourself in the LORD;
And He will give you the desires of your heart.
5Commit your way to the LORD,
Trust also in Him, and He will do it.
6He will bring forth your righteousness as the light
And your judgment as the noonday.
7Rest in the LORD and waitpatiently for Him;
Do not fret because of him who prospers in his way,
Because of the man who carries out wicked schemes.
8Cease from anger and forsake wrath;
Do not fret; it leads only to evildoing.
9For evildoers will be cut off,
But those who wait for the LORD, they will inherit the land.
10Yet a little while and the wicked man will be no more;
And you will look carefully for his place and he will not be there.
11But the humble will inherit the land
And will delight themselves in abundant prosperity.
12The wicked plots against the righteous
And gnashes at him with his teeth.
13The Lord laughs at him,
For He sees his day is coming.
14The wicked have drawn the sword and bent their bow
To cast down the afflicted and the needy,
To slay those who are upright in conduct.
15Their sword will enter their own heart,
And their bows will be broken.
16Better is the little of the righteous
Than the abundance of many wicked.
17For the arms of the wicked will be broken,
But the LORD sustains the righteous.
18The LORD knows the days of the blameless,
And their inheritance will be forever.
19They will not be ashamed in the time of evil,
And in the days of famine they will have abundance.
20But the wicked will perish;
And the enemies of the LORD will be like the glory of the pastures,
They vanish--like smoke they vanish away.
21The wicked borrows and does not pay back,
But the righteous is gracious and gives.
22For those blessed by Him will inherit the land,
But those cursed by Him will be cut off.
23The steps of a man are established by the LORD,
And He delights in his way.
24When he falls, he will not be hurled headlong,
Because the LORD is the One who holds his hand.
25I have been young and now I am old,
Yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken
Or his descendants begging bread.
26All day longhe is gracious and lends,
And his descendants are a blessing.
27Depart from evil and do good,
So you will abideforever.
28For the LORD loves justice
And does not forsake His godly ones;
They are preserved forever,
But the descendants of the wicked will be cut off.
29The righteous will inherit the land
And dwell in it forever.
30The mouth of the righteous utters wisdom,
And his tongue speaks justice.
31The law of his God is in his heart;
His steps do not slip.
32The wicked spies upon the righteous
And seeks to kill him.
33The LORD will not leave him in his hand
Or let him be condemned when he is judged.
34Wait for the LORD and keep His way,
And He will exalt you to inherit the land;
When thewicked are cut off, you will see it.
35I have seen a wicked, violent man
Spreading himself like a luxuriant tree in its native soil.
36Then he passed away, and lo, he was no more;
I sought for him, but he could not be found.
37Mark the blameless man, and behold the upright;
For the man of peace will have a posterity.
38But transgressors will be altogether destroyed;
The posterity of the wicked will be cut off.
39But the salvation of the righteous is from the LORD;
He is their strength in time of trouble.
40The LORD helps them and delivers them;
He delivers them from the wicked and saves them,
Because they take refuge in Him.
All that to say, God has given me this to do list. It keeps me sane. :) Sort of.
Day 101: Seven Days Ago
Well, it's still really day 100, but it's my second blog of the day.
I am learning that the life of a foster parent is unpredictable, at best.
Seven days ago, we took the two little girls we have cared for, nurtured back to health, loved, prayed for, and called forth the emotions of love and joy from . . . we took those girls and handed them over to someone else.
I had heard that it doesn't matter who those people are, nor how great you think they are, nor how wonderful you know the children's life will be with them, relinquishing custody is incredibly, incredibly hard. It is true. It sucks.
Seven days ago, when we relinquished custody of the girls to a wonderful family, we didn't know that they would be going back to their birth mom two weeks later.
Seven days ago, we didn't know that this transition we were putting them through was going to be for such a short time.
Seven days ago, we didn't know anything other than we had been asked to help them transition into a home where there brother lived with a wonderful set of foster parents that would care for them for as long as they were needed, even if that was forever.
But seven days ago, God knew everything. And He asked us to kiss our sweet babies goodbye. And in obedience to Him, we did so.
Because seven days ago, God knew what would happen two weeks later. Seven days ago, He was sitting on His throne. And He's still there. He's still there.
All that to say, seven days ago, the God I serve, the God I love, and the God who loves those sweet babies had a plan. His plan. And we know that the plan He has is to prosper and not to harm. Jeremiah 29:11
I am learning that the life of a foster parent is unpredictable, at best.
Seven days ago, we took the two little girls we have cared for, nurtured back to health, loved, prayed for, and called forth the emotions of love and joy from . . . we took those girls and handed them over to someone else.
I had heard that it doesn't matter who those people are, nor how great you think they are, nor how wonderful you know the children's life will be with them, relinquishing custody is incredibly, incredibly hard. It is true. It sucks.
Seven days ago, when we relinquished custody of the girls to a wonderful family, we didn't know that they would be going back to their birth mom two weeks later.
Seven days ago, we didn't know that this transition we were putting them through was going to be for such a short time.
Seven days ago, we didn't know anything other than we had been asked to help them transition into a home where there brother lived with a wonderful set of foster parents that would care for them for as long as they were needed, even if that was forever.
But seven days ago, God knew everything. And He asked us to kiss our sweet babies goodbye. And in obedience to Him, we did so.
Because seven days ago, God knew what would happen two weeks later. Seven days ago, He was sitting on His throne. And He's still there. He's still there.
All that to say, seven days ago, the God I serve, the God I love, and the God who loves those sweet babies had a plan. His plan. And we know that the plan He has is to prosper and not to harm. Jeremiah 29:11
Day 100: Heavy With Hope
It's a momentous day in my blog. The 100th day this year that I have blogged. Considering I was going to do it every day and it was going to be a photo journal of my life, I'm not doing too well! But in the midst of my year, we fostered two kids and well . . . things went a little crazy.
It's been one week today since they left here. I wish I could say that we are doing better, that life is easier, less hectic, but that's not true. I wish I could say I don't really think about them as often, but that's also not true. It seems everything I do is a reminder of them in some way.
I had to go grocery shopping this week, and I felt the oddest sense of loss. Almost like I didn't know how to shop for just "us." I cried up and down a few aisles, but then gave myself a pep talk, finished my shopping, and finally got out to my car where I let myself have a good cry. . . over groceries!
I unloaded the dishwasher earlier this week and there were still sippy cups in the dishwasher, and plates and little toddler silverware from their last meal at our house. I didn't sob, but the tears slowly ran down my cheeks.
I washed clothes and found a little white headband and little white socks in the bottom of the hamper. . . The reminders of them are everywhere.
Mike and I were talking in our bedroom yesterday morning (truthfully just standing and holding each other, crying) and Mike said, "We just have to continue to trust God in all of this." (love that man) "He knows what's best for the girls and for us."
So, yesterday we started our official foster parenting classes. I cried buckets in that class. . . Mike did too (Man we sound like cry babies), as they shared story after story after story of children who were rescued, and of the ones who didn't make it out alive. At the end of the class, on our ride home, we talked about the next children that God will place in our home, and the next, and the next, and the next.
All that to say, it's been a week. Our hearts are heavy with hope.
It's been one week today since they left here. I wish I could say that we are doing better, that life is easier, less hectic, but that's not true. I wish I could say I don't really think about them as often, but that's also not true. It seems everything I do is a reminder of them in some way.
I had to go grocery shopping this week, and I felt the oddest sense of loss. Almost like I didn't know how to shop for just "us." I cried up and down a few aisles, but then gave myself a pep talk, finished my shopping, and finally got out to my car where I let myself have a good cry. . . over groceries!
I unloaded the dishwasher earlier this week and there were still sippy cups in the dishwasher, and plates and little toddler silverware from their last meal at our house. I didn't sob, but the tears slowly ran down my cheeks.
I washed clothes and found a little white headband and little white socks in the bottom of the hamper. . . The reminders of them are everywhere.
Mike and I were talking in our bedroom yesterday morning (truthfully just standing and holding each other, crying) and Mike said, "We just have to continue to trust God in all of this." (love that man) "He knows what's best for the girls and for us."
So, yesterday we started our official foster parenting classes. I cried buckets in that class. . . Mike did too (Man we sound like cry babies), as they shared story after story after story of children who were rescued, and of the ones who didn't make it out alive. At the end of the class, on our ride home, we talked about the next children that God will place in our home, and the next, and the next, and the next.
All that to say, it's been a week. Our hearts are heavy with hope.
Day 99: Memorable
I set out that day to have a pleasant, peaceful, non-stressful, memorable day.
I woke up early to make french toast, because it was their favorite. But not this day it wasn't. "S" took a bite, smooshed it around in her mouth, made a face, and spit it out. She did this with every - single - bite.
I planned a morning at the mall, because they loved riding in their big fancy double bob running stroller in the air conditioned mall. Princesses.
And I planned on us eating in the food court at Chick-fil-A. But it was Sunday. And Chick-fil-A is closed on Sundays. So we ate McDonald's chicken nuggets and fries, which is NOT the same. Not even close. And the girls registered their protest at the fake nuggets and straight fries.
My plans were to have a special, peaceful, non-stressful, memorable day. I really, really tried to make it not stressful.
I even took off from work.
And we rode the carousel.
And we had chicken nuggets. And french fries. And Ketchup.
But it was stressful.
And I also had this stupid idea of doing a photo shoot on our special last day together. (Which most men hate in case you don't know that. And more than that, they hate having to wear what you tell them to wear because it matches or coordinates with something YOU are wearing.)
And Big Mike is messy and I had to warn him not to put on his "photo shoot" shirt if he was going to be messy with his lunch, which he was. (Why did I tell him to get ketchup?)
And then finally, it was time to load up our car and drive the almost two hours to the girls' new home. As everyone was putting babies in cars, and blankets, and books, and car toys and grabbing cameras and photo shoot clothes and my purse and all the other millions of things it seems to take to travel anywhere with kids, much less kids you are moving OUT of your house, I decided to run back in the house and grab a few animal crackers for the girls.
I was hurrying, because Big Mike doesn't like to wait in the car, and neither do babies, so in my hurriedness I flung open the pantry door and grabbed the animal crackers, only to be interrupted by a loud bang followed by a brown explosion all over the white walls, doors and floor of the kitchen.
Seems in my hurriedness, and my flinging of the pantry door, I dislodged a bottle of root beer extract (which for those of you who don't know, is for making homemade root beer). The dislodged bottle hit the ground and exploded.
Jacob walked in just in time to see it and said, "wow, it looks like a murder scene in here." And it did. And it was just one more thing that made me want to cry. And I had on my photo shoot shirt.
All I could think of was Big Mike in the car, two screaming babies, and this HUGE mess I now had to clean up. Jacob (and Zack) helped me get most of it up, but when I finished there was a brown tint to the floor and doors and wall. But we had to go!
(But just for the record, it seemed weird to me that we were HURRYING to leave to give away our two babies, even if we were giving them to friends that we love!)
After what was a very long, hard, emotional day (complete with me forgetting to bring their crib! What kind of mother forgets a CRIB!!??) we arrived home at 10 p.m. As we walked in the door, I was assaulted by the smell of root beer and realized that I still had a freaking mess to clean up.
All that to say, as far as days go, it was memorable. Not quite as I planned it. But memorable.
I woke up early to make french toast, because it was their favorite. But not this day it wasn't. "S" took a bite, smooshed it around in her mouth, made a face, and spit it out. She did this with every - single - bite.
I planned a morning at the mall, because they loved riding in their big fancy double bob running stroller in the air conditioned mall. Princesses.
And I planned on us eating in the food court at Chick-fil-A. But it was Sunday. And Chick-fil-A is closed on Sundays. So we ate McDonald's chicken nuggets and fries, which is NOT the same. Not even close. And the girls registered their protest at the fake nuggets and straight fries.
My plans were to have a special, peaceful, non-stressful, memorable day. I really, really tried to make it not stressful.
I even took off from work.
And we rode the carousel.
And we had chicken nuggets. And french fries. And Ketchup.
But it was stressful.
And I also had this stupid idea of doing a photo shoot on our special last day together. (Which most men hate in case you don't know that. And more than that, they hate having to wear what you tell them to wear because it matches or coordinates with something YOU are wearing.)
And Big Mike is messy and I had to warn him not to put on his "photo shoot" shirt if he was going to be messy with his lunch, which he was. (Why did I tell him to get ketchup?)
And then finally, it was time to load up our car and drive the almost two hours to the girls' new home. As everyone was putting babies in cars, and blankets, and books, and car toys and grabbing cameras and photo shoot clothes and my purse and all the other millions of things it seems to take to travel anywhere with kids, much less kids you are moving OUT of your house, I decided to run back in the house and grab a few animal crackers for the girls.
I was hurrying, because Big Mike doesn't like to wait in the car, and neither do babies, so in my hurriedness I flung open the pantry door and grabbed the animal crackers, only to be interrupted by a loud bang followed by a brown explosion all over the white walls, doors and floor of the kitchen.
Seems in my hurriedness, and my flinging of the pantry door, I dislodged a bottle of root beer extract (which for those of you who don't know, is for making homemade root beer). The dislodged bottle hit the ground and exploded.
Jacob walked in just in time to see it and said, "wow, it looks like a murder scene in here." And it did. And it was just one more thing that made me want to cry. And I had on my photo shoot shirt.
All I could think of was Big Mike in the car, two screaming babies, and this HUGE mess I now had to clean up. Jacob (and Zack) helped me get most of it up, but when I finished there was a brown tint to the floor and doors and wall. But we had to go!
(But just for the record, it seemed weird to me that we were HURRYING to leave to give away our two babies, even if we were giving them to friends that we love!)
After what was a very long, hard, emotional day (complete with me forgetting to bring their crib! What kind of mother forgets a CRIB!!??) we arrived home at 10 p.m. As we walked in the door, I was assaulted by the smell of root beer and realized that I still had a freaking mess to clean up.
All that to say, as far as days go, it was memorable. Not quite as I planned it. But memorable.
Day 98: I Wonder
My thoughts are consumed with them. I wonder what they are doing. I wonder if they ate a good breakfast. I wonder if they slept well. I wonder if they wake up confused about where they are sleeping. I wonder if they miss us. I wonder, I wonder, I wonder . . . it makes me want to cuss.
Part of that is my OCD. Things like this kick it into overdrive.
I'm sick in my mind and my heart and my stomach. I cry at the drop of a hat.
And then the next ten minutes I am totally fine. I feel crazy. Like I literally MIGHT lose my mind.
I drove home yesterday fully expecting them to be staring out the window when I arrived. But they weren't. The blinds were down. The sounds of children did not exist. The signs of children did not exist. Except for the half-eaten book that still sits on my mantel.
I saw them today. (Long story) They looked beautiful. Their parents didn't look frazzled, didn't seem too stressed (other than a brief skirmish about the placement of poopy diapers - a "discussion" that Mike and I had MANY TIMES!) Baby "N" seemed excited to see me. Hugged me hard. Clung to me for just a second. Even fussed a little when I left. Baby "S" didn't seem overly enthralled with my presence. She was happy and playing with a toy. Exactly as I would want her to be.
I wonder still. How long will this weight in my chest be there, threatening to crush the air out of my lungs?
We talked of our next "kids." The next sweet babies in need of rescuing. I wonder who they will be and when they will come.
All that to say. . . I wonder. God heal my heart quickly so I am ready for the next children you send our way.
Part of that is my OCD. Things like this kick it into overdrive.
I'm sick in my mind and my heart and my stomach. I cry at the drop of a hat.
And then the next ten minutes I am totally fine. I feel crazy. Like I literally MIGHT lose my mind.
I drove home yesterday fully expecting them to be staring out the window when I arrived. But they weren't. The blinds were down. The sounds of children did not exist. The signs of children did not exist. Except for the half-eaten book that still sits on my mantel.
I saw them today. (Long story) They looked beautiful. Their parents didn't look frazzled, didn't seem too stressed (other than a brief skirmish about the placement of poopy diapers - a "discussion" that Mike and I had MANY TIMES!) Baby "N" seemed excited to see me. Hugged me hard. Clung to me for just a second. Even fussed a little when I left. Baby "S" didn't seem overly enthralled with my presence. She was happy and playing with a toy. Exactly as I would want her to be.
I wonder still. How long will this weight in my chest be there, threatening to crush the air out of my lungs?
We talked of our next "kids." The next sweet babies in need of rescuing. I wonder who they will be and when they will come.
All that to say. . . I wonder. God heal my heart quickly so I am ready for the next children you send our way.
Day 97: Living Shallow
Now that I do not have toddlers in my home, I took some time to think about all the things I can do again. I was thinking it might cheer me up. Here they are in no particular order:
1. Sleep late
2. Get a pedicure whenever I want
3. Leave my purse on the couch
4. Go to a movie
5. Never eat a chicken nugget again
6. Blowdry my hair without fear that I will wake up a sleeping baby
7. Leave my earrings lying on the coffee table
8. Leave my bra in the bathroom floor
9. Leave my bathroom door unlocked
10. Go out to dinner with friends
11. Work late
12. Argue with my husband without whispering
13. Have way more sex (sorry family that reads this blog)
14. Put my shirt on in the morning and not have to worry about what will be on it when I leave for work.
15. Leave the toilet lid open.
16. Leave the ice maker on "unlock."
17. Wash clothes without searching the washing machine for "throw ins" first.
18. Take off the strap that keeps my closet closed.
19. Discontinue using my bed as a changing station.
20. Drink my coffee leisurely and eat my entire bagel all by myself.
All that to say, my life was pretty shallow apparently. Because none of that crap matters anymore. Well, except maybe #13.
1. Sleep late
2. Get a pedicure whenever I want
3. Leave my purse on the couch
4. Go to a movie
5. Never eat a chicken nugget again
6. Blowdry my hair without fear that I will wake up a sleeping baby
7. Leave my earrings lying on the coffee table
8. Leave my bra in the bathroom floor
9. Leave my bathroom door unlocked
10. Go out to dinner with friends
11. Work late
12. Argue with my husband without whispering
13. Have way more sex (sorry family that reads this blog)
14. Put my shirt on in the morning and not have to worry about what will be on it when I leave for work.
15. Leave the toilet lid open.
16. Leave the ice maker on "unlock."
17. Wash clothes without searching the washing machine for "throw ins" first.
18. Take off the strap that keeps my closet closed.
19. Discontinue using my bed as a changing station.
20. Drink my coffee leisurely and eat my entire bagel all by myself.
All that to say, my life was pretty shallow apparently. Because none of that crap matters anymore. Well, except maybe #13.
Day 96: Hearing Things
We just got home from a very, very hard day. A father's day that I just bet Mike will never forget. The last time I saw him cry like he cried today was the night his dad died. Like I said, a very hard day.
When we arrived, I realized (to my chagrin) that we were going to loan the new parents one of our cribs until they could get another one. We had talked about several bed scenarios, so I just totally forgot that I was bringing one. Then we planned to have a fun photo shoot, but it wasn't fun. It was hot and stressful. (Knowing Shauna, I'm sure it will be amazing anyway.) Within minutes after we left, Shauna called to ask if I had left her any diapers. ugh. So we made a detour by Target to buy diapers and a crib. Then "celebrated" Father's day dinner and drove home.
It was a long drive home. A drive filled with many tears, and silence, and tears, and silence.
I'm sitting in the living room tonight, at least what is left of the night, and I swear I heard them crying in their bedroom. It was so real a sound that it caused a lump in my throat.
Even as I type these words, I can feel the tears stinging my eyes, threatening to spill out. I can feel the catch in my throat, and I'm struggling to keep it there, lest it slip out as a sob.
My home is quiet. Strangely quiet. No longer filled with the sounds of babies. And even though I am sure I heard them a moment ago, I know that if I walked upstairs to their room, their beds would be empty. It's those empty beds that make my heart ache.
All that to say, I need to go to bed and cry and mourn the loss I feel in my soul. For tomorrow will bring new mercies. To tomorrow.
When we arrived, I realized (to my chagrin) that we were going to loan the new parents one of our cribs until they could get another one. We had talked about several bed scenarios, so I just totally forgot that I was bringing one. Then we planned to have a fun photo shoot, but it wasn't fun. It was hot and stressful. (Knowing Shauna, I'm sure it will be amazing anyway.) Within minutes after we left, Shauna called to ask if I had left her any diapers. ugh. So we made a detour by Target to buy diapers and a crib. Then "celebrated" Father's day dinner and drove home.
It was a long drive home. A drive filled with many tears, and silence, and tears, and silence.
I'm sitting in the living room tonight, at least what is left of the night, and I swear I heard them crying in their bedroom. It was so real a sound that it caused a lump in my throat.
Even as I type these words, I can feel the tears stinging my eyes, threatening to spill out. I can feel the catch in my throat, and I'm struggling to keep it there, lest it slip out as a sob.
My home is quiet. Strangely quiet. No longer filled with the sounds of babies. And even though I am sure I heard them a moment ago, I know that if I walked upstairs to their room, their beds would be empty. It's those empty beds that make my heart ache.
All that to say, I need to go to bed and cry and mourn the loss I feel in my soul. For tomorrow will bring new mercies. To tomorrow.
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