Bedtime Blessing

NOTE:  This post is a way of processing my thoughts towards our foster girls' birth mom (the girls are 4 and 2 1/2 years old).  All names have been changed for anonymity.  When I write about foster parenting, I especially want to acknowledge that I am in no way an expert or authority on the subject.  We have been fostering for two and a half months and I'm mostly learning that I have a ton to learn.  Writing about my experiences and thoughts is really helpful for me and I hope will positively affect those who read the pieces, in their own life circumstances.

Dear Christy,

 

Before I go to bed, Jeff and I always check on all the kids.  Jeff stands by the beds and prays.  Sometimes I have energy for that, other times, I just say a quick thank you to God for each life with which we've been entrusted.  When I look in on your girls, nine times out of ten, Ellie is partially hanging off the bed or has her head where her feet should be.  I have to maneuver her back to the center of the bed and cover her up again.  Abby’s face is usually hidden under her disheveled curls. 

 

I feel awkward in showing physical affection towards your girls, even as they sleep.  Tonight, I brushed their hair out of their eyes and let my fingers linger on their foreheads as a blessing.  I thought about you, as I often do.  When I think of you during the day, it’s often laced with confusion and bitterness.  I’m struggling with the demands of foster care and I get mad that you aren’t present to deal with the constant misbehavior and tantrums.  I know so little of who you are and what you’re going through, yet somehow I’m carrying the weight of raising your daughters.  But tonight, the resentment is more quiet and I’m just wondering about you. 

 

How would you look in on them?  Would you kiss their cheeks and remember how they looked and smelled as babies?  That’s what I do with my boys.  I didn’t know Ellie and Abby as babies.  I don’t hold their stories and they can tell me very little about their younger lives.  Did you ever tell them baby stories?  Did you – do you – dream of their futures when you look at Abby’s soft curls and those black eyelashes on Ellie’s porcelain cheeks? 

 

I wish you were here to bless them as they sleep.  I wish they could smell your smell and feel your fingertips on their foreheads.  I wish they had the deep peace and safety of consistency.  How do I do your job, Christy?  How long will your healing journey last, while Jeff and I tackle all these childhood milestones – potty training Abby, teaching Ellie to ride a bike, trying to give them healthy boundaries?  How can these key years go by without you?  Your girls want you. 

 

This morning at church, I sang the final worship song as a prayer for you.  I want to understand more than I do about what's going on with you.  However, I can let that go at least for a song’s length and believe a generational blessing over you all.  God bless you, Christy.  God bless your daughters, and their daughters and sons, and the ones who come after that.  May this story you’re walking out somehow be a testimony of His power that your family tells for generations.

 

The Blessing by Cody Carnes

 

The Lord bless you
And keep you
Make His face shine upon you
And be gracious to you
The Lord turn His
Face toward you
And give you peace

Amen, amen, amen
Amen, amen, amen

The Lord bless you
And keep you
Make His face shine upon you
And be gracious to you
The Lord turn His
Face toward you
And give you peace

Amen, amen, amen
Amen, amen, amen

May His favor be upon you
And a thousand generations
And your family and your children
And their children, and their children
May His favor be upon you
And a thousand generations
And your family and your children
And their children, and their children

May His presence go before you
And behind you, and beside you
All around you, and within you
He is with you, He is with you

 

photo credit

I Could Never Do That

 

When we began the process of being a foster family, it was common for people to say, “I could never do that.”  I didn’t say this out loud, but I often thought, “Maybe I’m not going to make it either.”  But, my husband and I still felt strongly about serving this way.  So, we continued checking off licensing requirements.

 

It took a year of starts and stops to get licensed.  Because the process was so long, I was looking forward to actually hosting a child.  We’d had a room set up for most of the year.  After praying over my own kids at bedtime, I’d pause in the doorway of our other room and pray for the child who’d one day occupy it.  We said yes to two little girls shortly after getting licensed and have had them with us for two months now. 

 

The first month was a huge transition.  We went from two to four kids, aged five and under.  I was in my first trimester of a welcome pregnancy.  I say that because I think the assumption might be that adding a baby to this mix would have to be a surprise.  Not the case.  In the fall, we felt God asking us to be willing to have another biological baby.  A friend put just the right words to it for me.  She said, “You just said yes to some beautiful things and they all happened at the same time.”

 

In that first month, not only were we adjusting to being a larger family – more laundry, more dishes, more tantrums, more groceries – but how to help little girls experiencing trauma.  For weeks, they cried every night at bedtime and at intervals throughout the night.  The younger sister tested our boundaries behaviorally, seeing what was okay (coloring at the table) and not okay (coloring on the windows).  Our boys have had increased needs as they adapt to sharing parents and toys with new siblings.  All of this is perfectly expected and part of the process. 

 

It felt impossible though.  It felt like “I could never do that.” 

 

One night, feeling exhausted and depleted, this verse came to mind (thank you, Holy Spirit):  Matthew 19:26, “With men, this is impossible; but with God, all things are possible.” 

 

Jesus was talking about salvation, but I received the wisdom for my situation.  What a relief.  It is okay that this is beyond me.  It is okay that I don’t know what I’m doing and I have to take moment by moment, asking God for patience and wisdom.  In acknowledging the impossible, I began to access the resources that make every day beautifully possible.

When my focus is off my personal failings and instead turned to God, my perfect support and supplier of all good resources, this is possible.  Sometimes, it looks like friends providing dinner.  Sometimes, it looks like learning a more efficient way to do bath night.  Sometimes, it looks like being willing to hold a child when I’d rather be by myself.  Sometimes, it looks like actually enjoying the chaos – the silly giggles at dinner, the running through the house shrieking and chasing each other, the “Mom! Watch me!” at the park.  God has good ideas.  Deeper than that, God is in control of these girls’ little lives and the tough, unanswered questions about what will happen in their life stories.  He makes good possible there too. 

 

So, I guess the answer to “I could never do that” is “Me neither.”  But God sure can and He’s the reason I can.

 

Is there something impossible in your life?  May I pray with you for God to be the wonderfully possible part of your equation?