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 . . .
~ 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.
