We are 11 days into this thing and I feel a kind of
exhaustion that is comparable to the days of a newborn or the time we spent in
the hospital with our oldest when she was very sick. It’s one thing to be
physically tired, and we are definitely that, but emotional exhaustion is
another thing. Mentally I think I had done everything I could have to be
prepared for this. I talked to a lot of people, I read a lot of books, I
attended all the trainings, and I had stuff ready in my house. But there is a
significant leap between being mentally ready and actually bringing a traumatized
and wounded child into your home. Our last
week and a half have been full of highs and full of lows. I’ve had moments
where I thought I couldn’t take one more minute of this. I’ve also had moments
where I thought I can never imagine my life without him in it.
The day I took my two boys to the DSS office to pick him up,
I walked inside and knew that life would never be the same. My 3 year-old and 5
year-old walked in with me to a very stuffy government building where visitations
were taking place and we walked out with something comparable to a pillow case
with just a few clothes, half of which did not fit, and a child of a different
race who is new to foster care and had no idea why he was leaving with us. When
we got in the car I explained that we were going to register him at a new
school (his third school this year), and that I would introduce him to some
people. His eyes welled up with tears and he buried his hands in his face. That’s
when I started crying and the tears didn’t really stop until sometime the next
day, with just a few moments of “togetherness.” That moment in the car will
forever be marked in my memory – when this desire, this calling, this
willingness to meet a need in the world of foster care – became a real person.
He has a face and a name and eyes that tell a story that is so heart-breaking
that I literally cannot even process it. He is a helper and he wants to be
needed and he misses his family and he has a laughter that makes you smile. And
he is only 6. And he matters to Jesus. And now, he matters so very much to us
as well.
The gospel has taken on a new and fresh meaning to me in the
last week and a half. We have had struggles, we have dealt with illness, we
have felt pain and disappointment before, but my southern comfortable Christian
bubble knows nothing about the pain of poverty, abuse, neglect, and
abandonment. Something that I’ve known nothing of for 34 years is fresh and
real in the mind of a 6 year-old that is living in my home. He doesn’t fully
understand the gospel, but he knows what it means for your only hope to be in
something greater than this world can give us. He understands the need to be
rescued. And now my other children understand some of the pain of this world
that they didn’t know very much about before. It’s hard exposing them to that.
The whole thing is hard and uncomfortable, but we know it is right. Josh and I
have told each other that at least 20 times in the last week. This was a hard “yes”
to say. I hate the discomfort and tension and emotions that come with it. I had
no idea how hard the reality of it would be, and there were elements of this
that we were surprised by and weren’t prepared for. But in spite of the
difficulty, I know that it is right.
A sweet friend who received her foster license on the same
day as us shared with me that her prayer has been Psalm 119:47 - that she would
delight in being obedient. And that is exactly where we are, too. We are asking
God to help us delight in being obedient to this thing that he has told us to
do.
My prayers have changed. They are a lot more frequent and a
lot more focused. A month ago I probably had a bit of a sense that I knew what
my kids needed and if I worked hard enough, I could give it to them. Now I can
look into 4 little lives and feel like I see and know what they each need, but
I don’t have the time/energy/emotions/resources to meet those needs. It can be
overwhelming, but it forces me to pray. It forces me to depend on the One who
is able to meet all of their needs (Philippians 4:19). My prayer for J is the
same prayer that I have for my own children. It comes from Ephesians 3:16-19:
I pray
that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner
strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as
you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God's love and keep you
strong. And you may have the power to understand, as all God's people should,
how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the
love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be
made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.
Thank you, Jesus, for a love that is wider, longer, higher,
and deeper than I will ever know. Thank you for loving J that way. And thank
you for loving me that way.