From December 2011 (when Olivia first walked through our front door) to December 2017 (when a sweet blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy walked out of it), we have had a constant stream of little ones to watch over through foster care. Since we had encountered some challenges with a few of the last kids in our home, I willfully agreed with my husband and son when they suggested a short break from fostering. I knew that I needed to refuel and that our kids needed some one-on-one attention from us. It also lined up perfectly with the Christmas holidays and a short visit from Seth.
Little did I know that my definition of a break and my boys’ definition would be as big of a misunderstanding as Ross and Rachel’s.
The holidays came and went, the second semester of school started, and Olivia and I were ready to foster again. To my surprise, Ben and Asher were not. They were enjoying life with just us. Ash wasn’t even sure he wanted to do it anymore; I was shocked. However, we were a foster family, so I had no choice but to submit to their wishes.
I didn’t let them know it right away, but I was struggling with the situation. I felt useless. I felt like I had a calling but I wasn’t walking it out. What if my boys no longer wanted to foster? How could that be when there was still a desire in my heart? Would God allow that to happen? Was God actually bringing this chapter of my life to a close and using my husband and son to do so?And so weeks passed, and I continued to pray about the situation.
Now February was approaching, and I needed answers. I needed to foster again or I needed to start reconciling with the fact that we were no longer going to be a foster family. And if that were the case, how would God use me now? To my surprise, my boys were ready. I could feel useful again.
Then more frustration. Placement calls were coming, but we couldn't say yes to the kids who needed a home: children with disabilities we were not trained for, challenging teens who might negatively affect our own kids, babies and toddlers but no open spots at any daycares in my area.
I began to think maybe our fostering days were, in fact, over. Maybe since I finally got my boys on board, God had to use other circumstances to hinder me from keeping a door ajar that He intended to shut.
Valentine’s Day passed, and it had been two months since we had fostered, and the uncertainty of our future with foster care was killing me. In total frustration, I did what I should have done a month before. See, I prayed over the situation, but I never fully released it to the Lord. I held on to it, worried over it, and allowed it to steal some peace and joy from my days during that time.
Surely I am not the only one who does that, right? We want His help but just can't fully release it into His care. I continually asked Him to take control of the situation, but I never put it down so He could pick it up. I continued to walk away from prayer with it still cradled in my arms. In the instant that I truly surrendered it to God, He whispered "rest" into my spirit....probably something He had been wanting to tell me for two months.
For three whole weeks, I actually enjoyed a nice quiet life with just my husband and three kiddos without any restlessness in regard to fostering. God also used that time to remind me of some very important things. Foster care is not my only calling. He has given me children of my own—I am called to be a momma. He has given me other kids to instruct and positively influence—I am called to be a teacher. He has placed women in my life who need me--- I am called to be a friend. The impact I make is not limited to just my role as a foster mom. I knew all of that...I just needed a little reminder.
Fast forward to today. As I sit in front of my laptop with my coffee in hand, the most beautiful chaos is happening just steps away. Seven kids---yes, seven!----are in the kitchen enjoying waffles made by Asher. There is excited laughter coming from the newest little ones as momma-hen Olivia adds the toppings they want. Jazzie is squealing because she is getting chocolate chips and chocolate syrup, and King is jumping from the stool to the countertop as he sings the PJ Masks theme song. Glasses are clanging on the countertops, and if this meal ends as most others do lately, I will be cleaning up spilled milk in a few moments. Most people would ---and some do---come into my house and think I am crazy. I may be, but I can’t imagine it any other way right now.
Now I can look back and see exactly what God was doing from December to March. Those months of uncertainty were only uncertain to me. God already knew what the summer months held for us and that a break was exactly what our family needed before our house was full again.
