I know, none of the few people that read my blog are foster parents (ok, except you Linda). They have no interest in it and aren't concerned about learning more for the future idea of being a foster parent. This post, I suppose, besides being for my own release is for the random people that might google "pitfalls of foster parenting" and find themselves looking at this post.
I testified tonight an incomplete testimony, I suppose, because the real thing would take up too much time. But in it, I mentioned something about how overwhelming it was having foster kids. What I didn't include was how much God is in the overwhelming. Whether it's David vs. Goliath, or Gideon + 300 vs the Midianites, Peter's passion to walk vs the raging stormy waters. In the overwhelming, that's when I've witnessed some of the most remarkable moments where God just came through. Moments I never would have seen without the overwhelming.
It's not that He makes the crying stop, the bruises fade, the sickness healed, or all the emotional distress that goes along with these kids just vanish. He's just there, in the midst of it.
I spent a lot of time dreading moments, seeing different moments coming up and trying to ready myself, or steel my heart for them, and somehow, every single one of those moments has been gotten through.
I feel like such an overwhelming wreck while I'm a foster parent sometimes, but somehow, these kids end up happy here. Even when they scream, or cry, they really come to be ok here.
I've probably said it before, and in some ways it's true that foster parenting isn't about you, it's about the kids. But at the same time, it absolutely helps to know that I'm my Fathers kid, and it's about me too for Him. That helps to satisfy the selfish need of me to feel taken care of as well. Or at least considered. It helps you get through the day. It also helps me keep in mind that God loves these kids even more than I do. And whatever my wishes and desires for them, Gods are higher and nobler.
Bell, beautiful Bell is my 5th placement. I've cried with and for 5 different kids now. 5 different kids I've put to bed then crawled over and told God He had the wrong person and I just wasn't right for this job. The number of 5 just amazes me. I wish I could say I had found that 'determined' attitude that says I believe I'm able to accomplish what God has put me into.
But I haven't. I found myself tearfully informing God that these childrens needs, and hurts, are too great for me to soothe. That I can't do it. And I desperately need Him to do it through me somehow.
This is beyond me. With every child I consider quitting. But, as I play my piano to pray each night, staring right at me is my wall with photos of each child. Added to it is an updated picture of Little One that her parents gave me the other day. Not even 4, but looking so old and happy. Her parents still going strong, doing what needs to be done to stay strong, and at least until September I am their regular Wednesday night babysitter.
God was good to her. He was good to me to let me see the outcome. It may be the only one of these 5 kids that I get to see the outcomes on.
As a side note to the days that I spend trying to figure out how I'm going to do what I'm suppose to be doing, and trying to figure out who I can get to help... I have to stop a moment and publicly say how awesome my niece and nephew are. They play with Bell in the back room during spanish church, they tried their absolute best to watch her during the song service this evening, they've really taken my words about teaching Bell to be gentle with people to heart. Too often I find myself looking at them going, what on earth?? But today, realizing what a huge source of help they were I couldn't help but just hug them and thank them and tell the what a good job they did and how I was proud.
So now I'm telling the world. I'm proud of those two kids.
Thanks you two.