The End of the Rope

Yup . . . it's been awhile . . . again.  And again, life has run away with me . . . and my sanity.  And when I caught myself yelling at my children for messing up the livingroom that I had just cleaned for the hundredth time, it became very apparent to me that it was time to sit and breathe and process.  Hence, the blog.  It helps me think.  

Our journey as foster parents continues.  And if I said that the road was rocky before, we have now hit the Grand Canyon.  Our dear munchkin has six separate, and extremely frustrating, diagnoses.  We have therapists, psychiatrists, neuropsychologists, behavioral specialists, and TSS workers.  Our days are filled with prayer, therapy appointments, more prayer, research, even more prayer, nightmares, and still even more prayer!  There are days when it is only by God's grace that I am able to open my eyes and crawl out of bed in the morning.  I limp to put my armor on.  I wouldn't even bother, but I have a sneaking suspicion that a fiery dart will be waiting for me that second I exit my bedroom (probably even sooner).

And because God is Who He is . . . good, faithful, compassionate, gracious . . . I was showered with His blessings this week.  Allow me to elaborate . . . 

I had the privilege of having breakfast with 2 other believing foster/adoptive moms.  Their children also have their own unique brand of "crazy" (I use that term endearingly, so don't take offense).  We compared notes over bagels and found that we were indeed rowing in the same boat.  Same struggles, same heartaches, same frustrations.  Same devotion, same determination, same God.  As I drove away from our meeting (with plans to meet together every month), I took a deep breath and heard The Lord say, "See, I'll never leave you alone."  So, ladies, you know who you are, thank you.  You were God's hands and feet to me this week.

Another blessing came from God's Word itself.  Ever have those days when you are so desperate for a word from God and it feels like your quiet time gives you nothing??  I'm had more than my fair share of those lately.  But this week, it seems that I have had my radar up, my distractions out, and my ears and heart open.  

Our dear munchkin had a fabulous 5 day stretch.  Very little "crazy."  Oozing with loveableness.  Sweet beyond words.  And those days found me pondering over Psalm 18 . . . 

He reached down His hand from above me; He held me.

He lifted me from the raging waters.

He rescued me from my strongest enemy,

from all those who sought my death,

for they were too strong.

They came for me in the day of my destruction,

but the Eternal One was the support of my life.

He set me down in a safe place;

He saved me to His delight; He took joy in me

(The Voice)

And the passage continues with such encouragement.  And I walked away whistling a happy tune.  God had heard my discouragement, my tiredness, my heartbreak, and He had delivered me.  Yay!!

And then just as quickly as those 5 good days came, they were gone.  And they went far, FAR away.  And we were plunged back into the darkness of childhood trauma.  Sad, defeated, and desperate, I opened the Word.  And Psalm 20 & 21 found me.

May the Eternal One's answer find you, come to rescue you,

when you desperately cling to the end of your rope.

(The Voice, Psalm 20:1)

May He grant the dreams of your heart

and see your plans through to the end.

(The Voice, Psalm 20:4)

His prayer was to live fully.  You responded with even more --

a never-ending life to enjoy.

(The Voice, Psalm 21:4)

And I could breathe again.  I am still at the end of my rope.  But I am confident that Christ will see me through to the end . . . to a full, never-ending life.  

And I can hardly wait.  

My Adoption Lifeline

One of my most recent roles in life . . . and the most challenging . . . and the one that shows me how ill-equipped I am to handle the stresses of this life without the arms of my Heavenly Father holding me up each and every day . . . is my role as a foster mom.  


I must admit, up until a year ago, I was pretty confident in my abilities as a mom.  My kids are happy, obedient, well-mannered, relatively responsible, and darn cute!  And then the phone rang . . . and an hour later . . . enter traumatized foster son.  

More than a year later, I still wonder if I have any clue what I'm doing.  Every day holds a new challenge.  A new obstacle.  A new conflict.  Currently, we find ourselves on the road to adoption . . . the long, bumpy, hazardous road to adoption. 


A dear fellow-adoptive friend of mine sent me this link.  Her timing (or should I say, God's timing), was impeccable.  I was in desperate need of encouragement.  And this was a breath of fresh air.  So if you are a foster parent or an adoptive parent, grab a cup of coffee and breathe deeply . . . 

Totally the Wrong Girl . . .

~ I go to bed without washing off my makeup.

~ I can be found in my pajamas until at least 10 am every day.

~ I pick out my outfit for church on Saturday night . . . and then never wear that outfit.

~ I hate doing laundry.

~ I hate doing dishes more.

~ I let my children eat sugared cereals.

~ I cannot function without my daily "candy bar in a cup" (Spiced Pumpkin Mocha Cappuccino).


So when God calls me to do something . . . 

~ take in a foster child from the city

~ lead a major ministry in the church 

~ teach a Bible study

~ support my husband through 4 years of seminary while raising 3 children

~ move 6 times in 13 years

~ be happily married to a man I must share with the Church


. . . my first thought is usually, "Lord, You've got the wrong girl!"  You see, I know the truth about myself (and the devil is always more than happy to remind me of any shortcomings I may have forgotten).  I'm selfish.  I'm lazy.  I'm impatient.  I love comfort.  I love having things my own way.  I resist correction.  I resist authority.  

I look over my shoulder, secretly hoping that God is pointing at the person behind me.  Nope.  He's looking me square in the eye.  


I want you.  

You must be joking.

I don't joke.

But I'm a frail, fragile human.

I know.  I created you.

But I can't.

I know you can't.  But I can.


Why I attempt to argue with the Almighty, I will never know.  So every day starts with a white knuckle grip on Romans 8:11 . . . 

"The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you.  And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, He will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you."


So I invite you to join me on my journey.  My life is messy, chaotic, crazy, challenging, but always divinely ordained by the One Who gives me strength and grace for each new day.

Buckle up.  It's gonna be a bumpy ride.