File This Under "I Don't Know"

If I were to organize foster parenting in the file cabinet of my life, I’d put it in a file called “I Don’t Know.”  Again and again, that’s my answer.

“How long will the girls be with you?”  I don’t know.

“What’s happening with their mom?”  I don’t know.

“Can they visit their mom while she’s getting better?”  I don’t know.

“Will you have them when your new baby comes?”  I don’t know.

“How will you be able to handle so many kids?”  I don’t know.

 

The list could go on and on.  Almost every day, our two and a half year old, Abby, asks, “Do we have a visit?” and “Who’s going to pick us up?”   I don’t know  and  I don’t know.

 

One day, I thought for sure their mom’s visit was happening.  I even woke the girls up from their nap, tidied their hair, and had them waiting by the window.  A rookie mistake on my part.  The visit had been cancelled and they’d forgotten to tell me.  I texted the driver ten minutes after the scheduled time and found out the visit wasn’t happening.

 

Yesterday, the social worker came for her monthly check in.  There are some new developments that made me think I’d finally have some framework or timeline of expectations.  Like, if A happens, then B will happen for sure.  I’m not a social worker, but I don’t think they ever get to use the phrase “for sure.”  Is that comment too snarky?  Later, when telling my husband Jeff the updates, I said, “So, basically, this could happen, or this, or that, and at any point, their mom’s positive progress could trump the whole process and we start all over.”  Something major could happen in three months, six months, or some indefinite period.  Any of the options mentioned are equally possible in this fruit salad of pivotal life-altering scenarios.

 

I’m learning that living deeply in I Don’t Know Land makes me super uncomfortable.  Drives me crazy, actually.  After the social worker left, I really wanted to go for a walk by myself and process all the unknowns.  Having four little kids and being one hour away from Jeff getting home, that wasn’t going to happen.  I put the girls in the bathtub and the boys in front of a TV show.  Looking at the girls playing in the bath, it wasn’t lost on me that these unknowns are more about them than about me.  I sat on the little kid step stool by the sink and started to cry.  They stopped their washcloth hide and seek game to stare at me.

 

“I’m having a lot of feelings and I’m not sure what to do with them.  It helps to cry a little,” I said.

 

They went back to shrieking and splashing.

 

I texted a friend and told her I was struggling.  She didn’t need to do anything, but it helps me to not feel isolated in my tough spots.  She called moments later.  The conversation was brief, as we both have little ones to care for, but her compassion lifted some of my burden.

 

Still on lifeguard duty with the girls, I settled back on the little stool and Googled “Bible verses about uncertainty” on my phone.

 

Even though I need God more than ever, my time with the Bible has been sparse these past few months.  I don’t know why, but I’ve been hesitant to lean on God as much as I need to.  I’ve been in the mode of just keeping my head down and getting done what needs to get done.

 

Of all the verses on the list I found, Psalm 121:3-8 (ESV) hit me where my heart needed it.  I was feeling really insecure and these verses filled me with security.  Not because I suddenly know what my next six months will look like or whether the girls’ mom will get healthy again or not, but because my security wasn’t coming from knowing those answers. 

 

He will not let your foot be moved;
    he who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, he who keeps Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper;
    the Lord is your shade on your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all evil;
    he will keep your life.
The Lord will keep
    your going out and your coming in
    from this time forth and forevermore.

 

This is not a new lesson for me.  Of course my security doesn’t come from my circumstances.  But dang, do I fluctuate on this one and need reminders to get back to solid footing.  How can I live this for the girls in whatever time they have with us?  How can my daily “I don’t know” answers to their questions about their life evolve into an answer that’s saturated with godly confidence and peace? 

 

I hate to say it, but I don’t know the answer to that right now.  I could come up with a quick Sunday School answer, but I’d like to let this simmer and see how God teaches me through my daily circumstances.  Maybe as a family, we can learn and live it out together.

 

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