Theory vs. Practice

"Love without limits." "Love in spite of." "Love without getting anything in return." "Love like Jesus." Those phrases, read with inspiring music playing in my head, sound noble, like a worthy aspiration. And they are. But they are far easier to say than to do. To think about than to implement.

We have been fostering our son's sister for nine weeks now. We know that the goal of foster care is reunification with the birth family. We, intentional or not, received the impression that probably it would be a clear path to adopting little Miss S. We found out that isn't the case.

We don't know what will ultimately happen. In the world of foster care, it's early days. But. But. We had already built the future in our minds, and forgotten to hold loosely. We had prayed for so long for a sister for Z that we assumed an ending that hadn't yet been made clear. He has a sister, and they will be siblings forever. We just don't know if she will be living with us or not.

Almost all adoptions/foster situations are more complicated than they look. We want the best for S, and that may be living with her birth family. Children living with their birth families is what is supposed to happen. Foster care and adoption is not what is supposed to happen. They can be beautiful and redemptive and loving, but it is only reality because of sin. Sin always leads to sadness and heartbreak for someone.

We love S. We want her to stay in our family. We want her and Z to grow up together. If she must leave, we will be heartbroken. Her big brother loves his "Sissy" very much, and my heart quails and my eyes overflow imagining explaining to him (who won't be able to really understand anything but that she's gone) that his sister had to go away.

But. But. Children belong with biological parents if it is possible, and if it is a safe and loving environment. While I think I know what is best for S, I am not God. I don't know the future. I only know my feelings and my desires, and they are currently at war. I want S to stay with us. At the same time, as a Christian, one of the deepest desires of my heart is that God be glorified, and that I follow and obey the teachings of Jesus. The temptation is twofold: To wish ill will for our kids' birth parents and pursue what we want at any cost, or, maybe worse, to withhold our hearts from our daughter (which she will always be) to try to lessen the pain. Neither choice will glorify God.

Today in church we sang an older Mercy Me song, "God With Us". The chorus has the line, "All that is within me cries For You alone be glorified." My husband and I want that to be true for us. Yet that choice, so romantic and lofty, holds the potential for much pain. The next line is the only power that will sustain us in this journey: "Emmanuel, God with Us."

God's heart has felt its share of pain. He gave up His Son. We say that a lot, but the true import of it is beyond knowing. He has put this baby in our home, and in our hearts for a reason. We will trust that He will give us grace for whatever happens, and that, whether she stays for six months or for our lifetime, we will love her wholeheartedly. 

This obedient choice does not make us saints. Many of you reading this would choose the same. If we knew what we know now, would we change our minds? Would you? If told your child had a sibling who needed a safe and loving home? That maybe she would stay with you and with her big brother? How could we not? How can we not love her to the best of our ability? We have been loved so so much by the Lord and by His family. When the time comes to put our grand and romantic and real theories into action, we will do so, knowing that "I can do all things, through him who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13)--and that God's strength is the only way, and that it will be enough.

Taking Stock

Five years ago today, I walked down the aisle at my wedding. It was a long time coming, and a union accomplished only by God's design (A Wedding Story ). I know my husband, Paul, and I had discussed "Where do you think we'll be in five years?" I'm not sure we would have imagined that there would be a toddler asleep upstairs for a nap and a newborn snoozing on my chest as I type.

I always envisioned that I would be married sometime in my twenties, enjoy a few years just with my husband, and then start having children, maybe four. Yet, years (and years and years) went by as I watched almost all my friends do just those things. Wedding after wedding, and baby shower after baby shower. It was hard to see so many people get the life that I had wanted. I prayed, and cried, and demanded, and cried, and prayed. . .

A deep longing of my heart was to just be "normal". To get married when my friends did, to have kids when my closest friends did. Nope. I remember talking to the Lord about this--"Is it so much to ask? To be normal? To be like everyone else?"

Now, beginning my fifth year as a wife and in the middle of my second year as a mom, well. . . Still not normal. Those close friends of mine? Their kids are going to college and getting married and having babies now. Most of the moms with kids our children's ages could also BE our kids. It makes forming new friendships interesting. Paul often gets mistaken for Grandpa, and while I haven't (yet) been called Grandma, I did have someone ask me last weekend if I were Mom or Grandma.

I don't know why the Lord waited so long to bless me with marriage. In the past I have said that I wished I knew Paul earlier, but now I have rethought that, since earlier means different children. I do know that being out of sync with most other people keeps me looking to the Lord for acceptance and peace and grace. I definitely know that being an older parent also requires extra strength and energy and faith to believe that we are the best choice for these children, at this time.

Life in the mainstream or out of it . . all of it requires faith and trust that the Lord is enough, no matter our (perceived) level of "normal".

My life is not how I thought it would be (I'm learning that very few people's are), but it is so, so good.

Psalm 16: 5-6 (ESV):


5 Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;
    you make my lot secure.
6 The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
    surely I have a delightful inheritance.
7 I will praise the Lord, who counsels me;
    even at night my heart instructs me.
8 I keep my eyes always on the Lord.
    With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

One More Phone Call

It's been over a year since I have blogged. Kids keep you busy. Marriage keeps you busy. It's true, that whole thing in the Bible about how singleness gives opportunity for a more focused walk with the Lord (how I hated being reminded of that when I was single).

I came back to my blog to re-read the story of how our son came to us. In the entry, I had written, "Then one phone called changed everything."

Friday, we were leaving the airport returning home from a family vacation. I was in the backseat with the toddler, and Paul was in front chatting with the friend who had picked us up. "Hi. . . Did you know that Z's birth mom was expecting another baby? The baby was born yesterday, a little girl. We called you to see if you would take placement of the baby?" Without even blinking (or asking Paul), I said, "Yes." "You can come get her today or tomorrow, I'll let you know."

One phone call, and now we are, for the time being at least, a family of four.

Once again, the joy we have at receiving a baby into our home is tempered with sadness for the birth parents who have already lost one child and may lose another, and for the brokenness in this world that leads to the trauma of separating babies from mamas. In our case, as in so many, there are no quick fixes. Our heart is for safety and stability for both Z and S. God has also, however, given us hearts that desire healing and wholeness for the birth parents, and a desire for connection with them.

Singleness had its blessings of more time to reflect, connect with the Lord, journal, and blog. Family life has its blessings of character refinement, connecting to the Lord with someone else, and pursuing God and His will with a partner. Both of those stations in life require faith and trust.

We opened our hearts and home to both Z and S knowing they might not stay. We mentally try to stay aware of the risk, but these children deserve to be in a home where they are loved unreservedly. Jesus will heal our hearts if we don't stay a family of four. We trust that our work of building attachment, trust, and love will make Z and S healthy, happy people wherever and whenever they must leave us. That desire doesn't make us special. It just makes us parents. All of our children will eventually leave, and they don't really belong to us in the first place.

We have been praying for a sibling for Z, whose adoption is in process, for months. For now, that prayer is answered. One phone call, again, changed everything.