"Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep, precious baby...close your eyes..."
As I sing, I begin to weep. I bury my head in his tiny little shoulder, holding on as if my life is at stake, trying to control the tears. A whiff of his scent fills my nostrils, flooding my mind with sweet memories from the last month and causing me to completely lose it.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" I hear her sweet, concerned voice and remember why I was trying to control those tears.
How do I tell her that this is the hardest thing I have ever done? How do I tell her I don't want this to just be a "friendly sleepover," but a lifetime of sleepovers, giggles, laughs, songs, dreams, hugs, kisses...memories? How do I tell her I could hold her brother and her, rocking them gently back and forth, for the rest of my life, feeling their hearts beating and hearing their deepening breaths as sleep comes softly upon them. How do I tell her?
I don't. I can't.
These babies are not mine. God has told me they are planned for another mother. He has shown me His work in their little lives, and a plan and purpose bigger than I could ever imagine or dream for them. But through the glory of His plan, a plan I am so thankful to have been--to be--a part of, I hurt deeper than I have ever hurt before. I feel like the inside of my heart is being scraped out, one shred at a time. I don't know how else to describe it. Sometimes it is numbing. Sometimes it is so intense I can't handle the feelings I'm facing. And on some level, I can't even place the feelings I've been dealing with over the last several weeks into a category. I can't name them. I am having a hard enough time containing them, let alone finding solace.
And so I don't talk about it. I want to change the subject. I want to run away from thinking too long about how I feel. Because it isn't about how I feel. It IS about what is best for two of God's precious ones. Oh, but how I wish...I wish God's plan had involved me long-term. Forever.
I will trust You, O Lord. For Your ways are better than my ways, Your desires far greater than my own. I will trust You, O Lord, with my life and theirs. You have designed us perfectly to fulfill Your will through our imperfections and weaknesses. I will lift up Your name, regardless of circumstance or feelings, for You alone know the beginning and end of all things. Thank You, Jesus, for the small role You’ve allowed me to play in the lives of these babies. May I continue to be Your hands and feet to the fatherless with greater passion and love for the ones You love. May I never lose sight of Your purpose. May I grow closer to You and come to a place where I do not have to be reminded of my dependence on You, but will be continually broken before Your throne, King Jesus. For You alone are worthy of praise, honor, glory.
For those of you who haven’t seen me in a while, I began walking down the road toward becoming a foster parent around Christmas time last year, and now…I am one. My heart was stirred up when my nephew was placed in permanent custody of my grandparents due to poor choices my sister was making at the time. I began to pray about it, but at the same time I was giving in to this lie: You are single. Kids need dads. You are not capable of taking care of yourself, let alone kids. You had a messed up childhood. What makes you think you won’t be as bad at parenting as your sister?
Notice how those lies were tinted with hints of truths? I really am single. Kids really do need dads. I really was facing some health issues that were causing me to not function very well in day-to-day tasks. I really did have a messed up childhood. BUT—I was sensing some condemnation. God did not send His Son to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might have eternal life. Condemnation is a #1 sign to me that satan is at work. He wants to destroy us, so of course he will shove accusation down our throats, right?
Anyways, if God was calling me to this and it wasn’t just something in my head, I knew He would make a way. I also knew that as a Christian I am called to be different and up to this point my life had shown a drastic difference in decision-making from that of my sister. Yes, we all have the capacity to be evil. We are all wretched sinners! But a born-again believer who is truly seeking Christ is not forming patterns in their lives that would harm themselves or others.
Now, I’m incredibly far from perfect (anyone who knows me can say Amen. Haha), and I admit I have this awful struggle with surrendering and trusting Him. It is this stinking pride that tells me I can handle life on my own. Hmmm…another rabbit trail.
Back on track: I was sitting down one Sunday evening last December with my sweet friend, Mrs. D, who shockingly had just begun delving into learning more about fostering/adopting, talking about what God was doing in her life, when she informed me that the foster system doesn’t frown on single applicants—they EMBRACE THEM because their truly is a need for more single parents who can love on kids who’ve been abused and are uncomfortable around people of the same sex as their offender.
Wow.
I cannot describe that moment. It was like getting punched in the chest because all the breathe went out of me, but painless, and in fact—freeing and joyous.
“God, are you calling me to this?”
I didn’t hear an audible voice, but over the next few months I felt confirmation as my life miraculously began to line up to place me in a position to be a single foster parent. I got a new, stress-free, flexible job close to home(one that fell in my lap, I might add), I found out the source of my health issues and began to combat it more specifically with prayer and healthier life choices, I moved to an actual house with a yard of my own, those folks at DHS let me go through training, and somehow they found me competent enough to open me as a foster home the first of November.
Wow.
November.
It seems an eternity ago when those beautiful faces walked through my door, scared and shy, afraid to let go of one another. And yet, it has been less than two months.
Soon I will not be able to sleep and will find myself at my keyboard typing on this blog again. Maybe. And when I do, I will—I must—write about my precious TWO. My first children, the loves of my life. I must record every memory of our beautiful story together. They will always be with me. Even though they will be in the arms of their new adoptive mommy and daddy, I will always see them as my babies.
It has been an emotional roller coaster, but I know I’m smack-dab in the middle of God’s will, and I’m not budging. It’s gonna hurt? Bring it. These babies hurt every day. They need a ray of Jesus shining through their darkness. My God is bigger than all that. He can heal their pain and He will heal mine, too. I’m not scared of getting hurt. Life hurts. Love really hurts. But, again, I’m not scared of loving. Someone showed me ultimate love—painful love—on a Cross and I’m not about to back down because I might get my heart crushed into a million pieces over and over…and over again.
I’ve started walking this path and I’m feeling the heat this moment, but IT IS ALL WORTH IT. Every precious moment I’ve had with my babies, even every moment that didn’t seem so precious at the time, has been WORTH IT. Because I see Him at work. He is healing these kids. And I’m in awe that I’ve been allowed to join Him in this work.
Wow. Thank You, Jesus!
