Just over a week. That's how long we've been a family of six. For the first three days or so, it was hard to grasp. It's an understandably difficult concept to go from being the parent of three children on Monday- picking out three sets of clothes, making three snacks at a time, tucking three kids into bed at night- to being the parent of four kids on Tuesday. But very quickly it became "right". It wasn't even our new normal. It was just the normal we were always supposed to be. Our "finally" normal.
Even as I express how relatively easy this foster care transition has been, and how right it feels, I fully understand that at any moment things could change. We're only responsible for this two-year-old boy for as long as someone else will let us be. Somewhere between one more day and forever, that's all we know. But for now, he's part of the family.
So, how does a stranger become family so quickly. Is it because he's adorable? No, though he is. Is it because he's a "good" baby? No, though he is. Is it because his laughter makes all our hearts melt? No, though it does. My children have taken him in as a brother, and my husband and I have taken him in as a son, for only one reason: GOD. It’s supernatural. Beyond our capabilities. God makes that kind of thing possible. Not us. Psalms 68:6a says, "God setteth the solitary in families: he bringeth out those which are bound with chains:"
The day before "A" came to us, my eight-year-old daughter said, on the ride home from the beach, "I feel like we're missing somebody." All of us were there in the van, including our two dogs. She wasn't talking about Grandma and Grandpa that we left behind at the beach. She was talking about "A", though we didn't yet know who he was. And I knew exactly how she felt. God had been stirring anticipation in our hearts for many months.
On our refrigerator, we have our names linked together, written out in magnetic Scrabble tiles. Just as easy as it is to add our foster son's name to our five, that's how easy it has seemed to make him one of us. He slipped right in like the letters of his name on the board. And it's a perfect analogy of what God has done for us.
In Romans 11, Paul uses the example of an olive tree. The natural branches he speaks of were the nation of Israel, God's chosen people. But we- believers who aren’t descendants of Abraham- being the wild branches, have been grafted into the tree. He added us into the family. He has made us a part of Himself.
Galatians 4:4-5 says it plainly. "But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law, To redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons."
How can someone become part of a family so quickly? God. With our foster son, it’s God’s love in our hearts and a divine plan that makes it possible. For the seeking soul, it’s a measure of faith and God’s grace by which they can instantly be made His child.
Eight times. That’s the number of times, so far, that we’ve been passed over for a foster care placement since becoming licensed in October of 2018. And it hurts.
The entire nine-month process of becoming licensed, and now the waiting, was and is an act of faith. I have never had to rely on God more, because I have no control over this situation. And even in my frustration, I recognize this as an opportunity to grow closer to the Lord as I learn to trust in His timing. So, even though I express sadness at not being selected, I still trust that God has a perfect plan, and I only want what He has in store for us. Nothing less. Nothing more. But being passed up still hurts, and it’s something I didn’t expect going into this.
Not all eight have been outright rejections. Sometimes, the situation just changed. And the truth is, none of them have been rejections of us. I know this isn’t personal. There are lots of circumstances involved. Most of them time, we’re given little information, if any, about the decisions that are ultimately reached for each child, but I’ve been assured there’s nothing in our profile that “handicaps” us when it comes to being selected. But it still hurts.
On one hand, I rejoice over the fact that we don’t have a placement, because that means there isn’t a child that needs us because he was taken from his family. We are currently only licensed to foster one boy under the age of six, so obviously, that limits the amount of calls we get. But if we were able to take siblings, or a teenager, no doubt we’d already have a placement. So, the need is real, and I’m hesitant to say anything that might discourage someone from becoming a foster parent. I know that any inconvenience to me, or any emotional upset I have over the waiting, is nothing compared to the trauma these children bring with them when they are placed. But it still hurts.
I’m ready to do what God has called us to do, and to not have the unknown looming over our heads. Even so, I trust that God is protecting us from the wrong assignment and preparing us for the right one, and that He has it all worked out. But it still hurts.
We should hear back about our ninth "yes" on Monday, 1/28.
Nine months. That’s approximately how long it takes for a baby to fully develop inside its mother’s womb. It’s also the time it took Alex and I to complete all the requirements and get our application for foster care licensing submitted to the state. The irony of the timing wasn’t lost on me as I signed my name to the paper today.
There are so many unknowns about this process. We don’t know exactly when our application will be approved. Possibly in the next couple of weeks. We don’t know who God has chosen for us to invite into our home and family, or when He’ll send them, or how difficult the adjustment will be. We don’t know if we’ll be called to minister to a child’s needs for a short time or, perhaps, forever. As I held the pen to sign the application, fear of the unknown brought worry. But I am reminded of some things I do know.
I know God has called us to this. I’ve known it for a very long time. I know that every life is precious, and there is a child that needs my family to teach them they are a valuable creation of Almighty God. I know that providing a child with a safe and loving environment will have a positive impact on future generations. I know a foster child will mean added stress, but I also know God’s grace is sufficient. I know God’s love is a free gift that replenishes in my heart as I share it with others, and it’s His will for us not to be stingy with it.
We didn't go through the process of the last nine months because we enjoyed it, but I know God has used the "gestational period" of foster care licensing to prepare our hearts for His purpose. I’m sure there will be many more revelations as the plan unfolds. For now, I'll hold onto these truths as we continue to wait.
I'm not a very patient person. I think I get it from my father. Or, at least, since he has the same character flaw, I can claim it's a learned behavior or some undiscovered genetic predisposition and give myself an out. But I guess it really doesn't work that way.
The older I get, the worse my impatience grows. I generally show grace, but often fail when it comes to customer service hold times and waiting for a table at restaurants.
Lately, I find myself waiting for a lot of things.
The writing-related things on my list are normal. Just part of the process. So, I'm not complaining. No one has dropped the ball or has been too lax about anything. They are working on multiple projects for different authors, not just me. I'm just impatient.
The last item on the list, simply by nature of the process, takes a long time, too, although it's frustrating.
But I had a revelation today: I need to be waiting on something even more important than the things on my list. The words of Jesus in John 14:30 reveal the thing I should anticipate most anxiously.
"And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also."
It's so easy to forget, or take for granted, or push to the back of our minds, the promise of Christ's return. But the expectation of His second-coming is fundamental to our faith. We are waiting. Not just waiting, but in a constant state of waiting, watching, and working, as we continue to live and enjoy the life He has given us.
I'm in a season of waiting now. But that's where I should live! Expectant!
When I stop and put things into perspective, the nearer-every-day reality of my blessed hope as a believer should make me more patient when it comes to all the other, lesser expectations in this life season. I'm thankful that, as with Jesus' return, God controls the times and the seasons. Everything works out for good, no matter my perceptions of "on time", "quickly", "slowly", or "delay". I need to trust God's timing every second of my life, even when I have to wait longer than I'd like for a book layout, a life-changing situation, or a pizza buffet. And may we all wait together anxiously for His coming.
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Thank you for visiting my blog. I share devotional articles and musings about life, parenting, and the writing journey, as well as important news about my books. I hope you find something of interest here!