Two Years Ago And Today

Two years ago today, I wrote this post. When I saw the memory pop up on Facebook this morning, I sent Chris a screenshot.

He replied: Still feel that way?

It's been a long journey since that day two years ago. Making ourselves available turned into so many experiences and feelings that I never anticipated. The hours and hours of classes turned into weeks and weeks of home study check lists which turned into months and months of jumping through added hoops. There were hurts and angry tears and so many, many questions along the way. God took us down bunny trails in those months and used our open hand in ways I couldn't have thought up if I had tried.

One year and four months after my blog post, when our foster care license officially arrived in the mail, I know I was better prepared than the day that I wrote it. But God wasn't done asking me to practice the open hand idea. It wasn't until eight months later, the week that schools closed and stay at home orders commenced, that our first placement arrived.

So, do I still feel that way? Well, probably about as much as I did then!

We're almost five weeks into this life and I'm sure in five more weeks I'll have learned so much more. But right now? Right now I'm pretty sure about several things.

1) It's not about feelings. For some people it might be; some people might have hearts just overflowing with joy and love and a desire to care for other people's children. Honestly? That's not really been me. For me, God called and it felt like the right thing to answer. It's ok to not have the feelings.

2) It's ok to miss the life that was. It's ok to think about how easy life would be with just my own happy family. It's ok to feel sorry for my youngest, who's life has been rocked the hardest; it's ok to feel sorry for my girls, whose shared room is now stretched to include a child who disrupts their camaraderie at bedtime. But it's not ok to live there.

For every hard adjustment, there is a coinciding blessing in knowing that this obedience makes Jesus smile.

When I look into those sweet, brown eyes I pray that someday the memories from our house will be ones of hope and love that will stay forever. And when I look at my children, I pray that the stretching and dividing of our love and time and ease will multiply into less selfishness and bigger hearts.

3) If foster care touched my heart in no other way, it would be touched by watching my husband love this child. Suffice it to say, I would never be doing this if it wasn't for him.

And now my hour alone that my husband granted me must come to an end. You can only sit in a cold van for so long anyway...