Chapter sixteen- In which God is still teaching, loving, me comforting me

I was so happy to know Josiah was going to a loving Christian home. But the one thing that I was upset about was having to send him all the way to Georgia. It was so far. And even though Brenda said that she was very willing to keep in contact with us, I didn't know how often that would be with my little man living states and states away. And then there was that terrible scene that I kept playing over and over in my mind where his case worker was going to pack him up in the car, pull out of the driveway, and take him on a plane to his forever home. I could imagine how scared he would be flying and I hated thinking that I wasn't going to be the one that would comfort him. He would be in a strange place with a strange person going to a home that he never knew. My eyes would well-up anytime I allowed my thoughts to drift to what would happen that dreadful day.

But God, in his omniscience and grace, was soon going to spare me of that pain.

David, Josiah's brother, turned two and we were invited to his birthday party!!! We felt so honored that we were made to feel a part of their family. We had his presents wrapped and ready for weeks. A set of different kinds of balls and a book about trucks. Its what we would have gotten Josiah if he was turning 2.

I loved seeing Josiah amongst a sea of faces that were like his own. Even Fred's other grandchildren had ears like Josiah! It made me smile. And as painful as it was to think he wasn't going to be a part of our forever family, I knew he had a family that loved him every bit as much as we did.

It was also at the party that I got to meet Josiah's mom for the first time! He looks so much like her. She gave me a hug and a kiss and told me what a great job we were doing. I said, "We just love him to pieces. I feel so lucky that we get to take care of him." I was hoping she would turn around and say, "Well, why don't you just keep him?"

I really need to let that dream die. It's not going to happen. God had better plans than I do. Although, I still tell them to Him from time to time. I expect He smiles and shakes His head and thinks, "If she only knew..."

When Brenda came to the party, we got to sit down with her and have a nice chat. It was then that she surprised us with another answer to prayer. "I have a confession to make." she said. "I'm not just visiting. I was tired of waiting in Georgia, so I moved to New Jersey."

I don't think I said anything for a couple of seconds. I was processing. I was thinking about how long she had already waited and how she was so anxious to have him. How much she loved him that she was willing to leave everything that was comfortable so that she could be with him. And I thought about that silly nightmare that I had wasted dozens and dozens of hours crying over-- that dreadful day he'd be flying states away. And now he wouldn't be. I could deliver him to his new mom.

Now I think about how I get to see her smile. How I get to see him smile at her when I put him in her arms. Honestly, when I think about it, I still cry. But not like before. I cry because I'll miss him, yes, but now a part of me will always be with him- the part that tells him about God's character- that He always saves and He always hears. But I cry because I'm thankful. Thankful to be a part of his life for as long as I did. Thankful that I know Brenda will love him as much as I do. Thankful that I will get to see him grow- not everyday, but on special days that I will tuck away into memory cells in my mind that will forever be freeze framed- just like the very first day I saw him and fell in love. And I am thankful that God can use me. He can use my hurt and my sorrow to bless others.

I don't know if I ever would have fostered children if I never would have lost so many of my own. But I do know if I didn't become a foster mom, I would have looked back on my life and wished that I would have. A lot of people tell me that fostering is something that they could never do- because they wouldn't want to give kids up. Believe me, if it were my choice, I wouldn't give them up either. But if I wouldn't have been obedient to become a foster mom...look what I would have missed! Thousands and thousands of smiles, hundreds of thousands of kisses and cuddles. Laughs. Kissing away tears and boo boos. Bath time. Reading books. Watching him finally learn to roll over, crawl, walk, talk. Dinner time. Watching him scrunch his nose. Watching Justin hold a son, kiss a son, tuck him in, and watch how shocked and panicked he is when Josiah pees on him when he changes his diaper. It never fails to make me laugh. I love that. I wouldn't trade it- not even for having my own children that are now in heaven that are more alive that I am now.

I can finally say I'm glad it happened this way. It took over two years to come to that conclusion. Hundreds of tears and dozens to times shaking my fist at God and asking why. But the "why's" aren't as important as they used to be. I've learned that the things that God allows to happen to me have nothing to do with punishment or reward. When I get to Heaven, I'm not going to be praising God for my husband, my house, my job, my family, or even my children. Those are just all of the things that He uses to teach me more about Himself- his goodness, protection, faithfulness, patience, guidance. When I get to Heaven, I'm going to be praising Him for His character. Who He is. The one thing that never changes.

I can't wait until Molly is old enough to hear the story. I'm going to tell her about the brother she had once that would roll all the way across the floor just so he could hold her hand. And I can't wait until she's big enough to play with Marie. I'm going to teach her that she can love people that don't look like her. That being generous and kind and loving will only teach her more about how much God loves her. And that the river of blessings God flows into her life is only fully felt when she can share it with others.

Chapter fifteen- In which God says, "I will save," and "I do hear."

A lot of people have asked me if having a baby of my own is much different than adoption or foster care. Nope. It's not. It's as though God says, "Here are the children I want you to take care of." It makes no difference. I do love looking at Molly and seeing who's features she has- Justin's ears, my eyes, his nose, my mouth.... But I don't love her because she was made in our image. I love both Josiah and Molly because they were made in God's image. They are both such precious gifts and I would in no way trade one for the other.

It stings a little when I tell people that we won't get to keep Josiah and they say, "Well at least you have your own kid now." I'm sorry...would you want one to give up one of your kids because the other one looks more like you?

It's going to be painful when he leaves. There's no way around it. Like a piece of me is missing. I love him like I love Molly. And should it be any different? He has been grafted into our family, just like I've been grafted into God's, and he will forever be a part of us even if he doesn't end up calling me "mom." I love that little boy to pieces.

Since Molly has been born, we've been able to establish and build a relationship with Josiah's family. Some days, he would go over to his grandfather's so he could spend the day with them and his brother David. When he would leave, I would miss him like crazy, but it felt different than when he would go to his parents'. I knew he was completely loved and coddled and fussed over. And it felt great to know that we were blessing his family with the happiest healthiest little boy that we could.

One day, Aunt Brenda (the aunt that was adopting Josiah) came up to New Jersey from Georgia. His grandparents and David and Brenda came to the house to pick up Josiah and I got to meet her for the first time. You could tell just the way she looked at him how much she loved him. When we picked him up after he spent the day with her, we were telling her how blessed we felt to have him in our lives. I can remember her saying, "We feel just as blessed to have you look after him. You didn't know that when you were praying for him, you were actually praying for me." That felt like she opened the door for us to talk about how great God had been to us. Justin said, "You know, it was our prayer that if Talen ;o) didn't get to stay with us that he would go to a Christian home." "Oh you don't need to worry about that!" she said. "This boy is going to know the Lord. He's going to go to church every Sunday and sing in the choir." I asked her if I could give her a hug. She said she was hoping I would.

I think I cried all the way home. I was so thankful that no matter where he is, he was going to know who God was. To know that God saves and God hears.

A few months later, Fred was dropping him home after a day at his house and he stayed to talk a while. He told us that Brenda was almost done with all of the paperwork that she needed to be approved to get Josiah. My heart sank. I just wasn't ready to lose him, and I didn't want to have to send him on a plane with a case worker that barely knew him. Justin and I went to get family pictures done- something I wanted to do and knew I would regret if we lost him soon and I never did it.

It was a magical time. Molly was a tough baby- nothing like Josiah. She was colicky and would scream if you didn't hold her upright. She knew the second we would sit down and get comfortable. She did her best to make sure that didn't happen often. But for 20 minutes she cooperated and was the cutest little lady when we got our pictures taken.

In December, Fred told us that Brenda wasn't going to be calling the baby Talen. (When we met the dad once, he had told us that the name "Talen" was the name of an old wise dragon, and was also the name of his dead cat. I think once you name your children after your dead pets, your parenting rights should be revoked.) Justin and I looked at eachother. "Go 'head, tell him," I nudged Justin with my shoulder.

"We have sort of been calling him "Josiah," he said tentatively "...when we first got him, they told us we could name him. And once we heard why his dad named him Talen, we didn't want to call him that."

I could feel my cheeks getting red. I felt so bad. He wasn't ours and we treated him like he was.

Fred laughed. "That's okay. Nobody likes that name."

I asked Fred for Brenda's number. Now that our secret was out, I felt the need to explain and apologize to her.

I called her on a Wednesday. I was so nervous as I dialed the number to Georgia. I was relieved when I just got to leave a message. On Saturday, she called me back. She had been busy at her church's daycare and volunteering for meals on wheels. I laughed at myself for thinking she was angry and didn't want to talk to me.

I told her the story of how we prayed about his name and how important it was for us for all of our children to be able to share the goodness of God with others. I told her we would start calling him anything she wanted and how sorry I was for not asking this important question about his name sooner. I felt guilty- like I had stolen such an important honor away from the person that would be raising him.

She said that all of them hated the name Talen. "Listen, all of my grandchildren have Biblical names. You go right ahead and keep calling him Josiah. I don't care what his birth certificate says, or what the state says, or what his parents say, that is his name."

Weeping. Lots of weeping. I tried to hold it in, but it came out in blubbering bursts over the phone. It was an answer to prayer. God told us that that was his name, and now it forever would be. No matter where Josiah went, he would always have something that WE gave to him. I will always be grateful to Brenda for allowing us to have this great honor.

We talked for about a half an hour, sharing prayer requests and me gushing how proud I was of our baby boy. And then she asked a question...

"When I come up to New Jersey to visit, I hate missing worship on Sundays. Could I come to church with you and Justin?"

If I were a cartoon, my mouth would have dropped clear to the floor. My heart just warmed inside of me. I thought back to when we had Josiah dedicated at church back in July when we thought we were going to lose him in a matter of weeks. At the time, Justin and I stood up on the platform and told the story of how we had lost so many babies and how God blessed us with this little boy. Everyone was so happy for us and applauded. But through gushes of tears, Justin told the congregation how they had found a family member who was going to take him. Our Pastor had prayed that somehow Josiah would know Jesus as his Savior one day.

We had a party for him after church at my parents' house. It didn't feel like a celebration to me. It felt like a farewell. Months later, we would find out that he was going to a strong Christian home...

And now Brenda would be coming to church with us. So now everyone could see that God really does save and He really does hear.

Chapter fourteen- In which God sends me dragonflies

I don't mean to say that God's goodness and grace is dependent on Him giving us Molly. God was good before we had kids. He was good when He wanted them with Him instead of with us. If you take away anything from this story, I hope that you will see that His character never changes...That the God of the Psalms and the rest of the Bible is the same yesterday today and forever. It is His desire that we know Him more, be it through the scriptures or life's circumstances. He will use whatever means necessary to conform us into the image of Christ...because He loves us too much not to.

I will always thank God for his graciousness to us in allowing us to have Molly and Josiah (for as long as we do.) God's grace is unmerited favor, and that's what I feel my children are. Blessings all mine with ten thousand beside.

Before I go on to tell what God has done in my life since Molly has come (which is awesome, so keep reading!) I want to share about two of the gifts, besides children, God has brought in my life that have illustrated more of His character to me.

Just like I have a thing with birds, my mom has a thing for dragonflies. She heard a sermon about them once....

A man was taking a canoe trip, and while he was out on the water, a water beetle crawled up from the water and sat, perched on the bow of his boat. The water beetle looked like he was peacefully resting, basking in the sunshine. The man was content to watch the little bug as it sat there. After quite some time, the water beetle began to crack and fall apart. The man was quite sad to see it slowly dying. But suddenly as it looked as though it was going to disintegrate and blow away with the next gust of warm summer air, a dragonfly emerged from the hard shell of the beetle. The preacher made the point that if God can do that to a water beetle, imagine what He can do with your life!

That story touched my mother very deeply.

A few years ago, even before I was pregnant with my first baby, my mom began a quilt. It was made with different colored blocks of pink and appliqued shapes. It was adorable. "Who's that for?" I asked.

"I'll have grandbabies someday. This one's for my first granddaughter." she said. I loved it. I always hoped I'd be the first to have a girl just so I could have it. :o)

She would work on it periodically. It was her therapy. She wanted grandkids probably as much as I wanted children for myself, and my mother was not one to sit and wait idly. After a while when all the blocks were done and all of the shapes appliqued onto the fabric, she started embroidering on it. I told her I was pregnant the first time, and she embroidered a bird on it. When I told her I was pregnant again, she added another bird. When she was told of the third pregnancy, yet another bird was added. Finally, when I was pregnant with Molly, she heard that sermon and instead of adding another bird, she embroidered a dragonfly on it.

Now, I'm not saying that because my mom made a dragonfly and not a bird was the reason that this pregnancy finally came to fruition. But what an amazing analogy can be made that what God has done in the life of a water beetle, He can do for us! The quilt will always be a reminder to me that out of our brokenness, God can make a beautiful story and glorify Himself in our lives.

My mom gave me the quilt for Christmas. And when I see it, I am so thankful for the story God has given me, and I remember how God has blessed me with other children that I can't wait to meet one day when He finally takes me to Heaven.

A quick aside about my grandmother before you can fully enjoy the next part of this story. Sorry for the lack of seguay....

My grandmother's name was Joan Negus, who everyone lovingly referred to as "Mutt" (rhymes with foot...it's a German thing..Mutty means "mother"...it got shortened...there you go). She was the great matriarch of our family. Every Christmas, the entire family would go to my grandparents' house in Princeton- aunts, uncles, cousins. There were fourteen of us in all. My most vivid memory of Mutt was of her in the kitchen in front of her gas stovetop- cooking each one of us eggs-to-order. Breakfast was a grand affair- taking 3 hours before all of us were done. But she would happily make sure each one of us was taken care of and got exactly what we wanted. (HER mother owned a Russian Tea House and also loved to cook. I come from a very long line of some amazing nurturing women.) Mutt was also a very talented pattern maker, seamstress, published author, teacher, jam maker, and knitter. Sadly, she passed away from cancer when I was in ninth grade. She never got to meet Justin, see me in my wedding dress, or meet her great-grandchildren. I miss her. But all of her best qualities and talents and passion for life are alive and well in my mother, who has since passed them onto my sisters and me.

One of the most precious gifts that was given to me at Molly's baby shower was from my sister, Amy. The last time she came up from South Carolina, she was cleaning out my mom's craft cabinets. She came across bags and bins and boxes of yarn. Among them was a plastic bag with a half-finished baby sweater in it. Amy, with her vast knitting knowledge, finished the sweater and gave it to Molly. The amazing thing about it was there were directions in the bag with a label on it that said "Megan." The sweater was started 27 years ago by Mutt and was intended for me. So that beautiful minty green sweater was actually given to me by three amazing generations of women in my life- Mutt who started it and taught my mother to knit, my mother who taught her daughters to knit, and my sister Amy who finished it.

Before Amy gave the sweater to me, she was taking pictures of it outside on a warm sunny summer day. Just as she was about to click the shutter, a dragonfly landed on the sweater... just long enough for the moment to be captured, and then it flew away.

Yet another example and reminder of how God can take the half-done, seemingly unfinished, broken things in our life and turn them into something beautiful.

Chapter thirteen- In which God heals my bitterness with His grace

I put it out of my mind that I was even having a baby. It seemed like the proverbial carrot forever dangling in front of my nose that I could never have but was always there, mocking me. I didn't want to even daydream about having our sweet baby girl in my arms. My hopes had been dashed one too many times.

One night over Chinese food, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. I winced. My mother who was sitting across from me at the dinner table asked what was wrong. It was five days before my due date. "Probably nothing," I said. I took another bite of my chicken and broccoli. There it was again. I doubled over. "Let's start timing your contractions," my mom said. I just kept on eating my dinner. It couldn't possibly be time. I wasn't even all packed yet for the hospital. The pain was coming every five minutes. An hour later, it was every three, and I finally called my doctor.

"Come on in," she said. "We'll take a look and see what's going on."

I remember driving away from my parents' house, my mom holding Josiah in her arms. In a way I was sad that he wasn't going to have me all to himself anymore. I didn't want to have to leave my sweet boy.

When we got to the hospital, I was convinced we wouldn't be staying. It would be braxton hicks contractions, and they would be sending us home in about an hour. We got to triage and I changed into a hospital gown and they hooked me up to monitors. I could feel the contractions coming steadily every three to five minutes. An hour after we got there, a nurse came in and said that no contractions were being picked up by the monitor. "What?!?!" I said in an annoyed tone, "An hour of this and I have nothing to show for it? If these aren't contractions, I don't want to see what contractions do feel like." The nurse checked me.

4 centimeters dilated and 90% effaced.

I would be staying.

By 8:00 I was in a delivery room. It was obvious at this point I would not get to enjoy the jacuzzi tub that they provided. I wouldn't get to try out my new slippers while walking laps around the maternity ward. I wouldn't get to enjoy the seasons of The Office on my laptop I brought. This baby was coming. Fast.

They checked me again. 6 centimeters. 100% effaced.

Epidural please? If I didn't get it soon, I wouldn't be able to. Two men came in to read me the risks. Yeah, yeah yeah....hurry please? As soon as they finished putting it in they checked me again. 10 centimeters. Time to push.

The anesthesiologist looked at me and put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm going to be honest." he spoke in a fatherly tone. "You're not going to get to enjoy the effects of this epidural. Most women get the epidural when they are between 2-4 centimeters."

Great. Needle in my back for nothing. I didn't care. A few more minutes and the pain would be over. And I don't just mean the physical pain. I pushed for 30 minutes.

"One more push, and she'll be here." The nurse said. I didn't believe her.

It was 10:04. I yelled and gripped Justin's hand until his fingers turned white. Then everything stood still. The clock, the air. I could see her perfect little round head and tiny hands and feet. She was here. Finally. I couldn't believe it.

"There actually was a baby in there!" I said trying to convince myself that the moment actually happened. For months I felt her kicking and hiccuping. Sometimes I let myself imagine what her tiny fingers looked like. And now they were wrapped around my thumb. I probably should have waited until they cleaned her off until I kissed her. But I couldn't help it. I wanted her to know that the first minute I saw her, I loved her. No one was going to take her away. She was ours. The one so many people had prayed for.

Our Molly Grace.

Molly means "Bitterness." Not a name that directly declared the goodness of God. It was just a name that always made me smile. Go ahead- try to say it without smiling. But the name was fitting. It was God's grace that was the remedy to my bitterness- the years of pain and recluse and blaming myself for my inability to be when God called me to be. His character was what taught me that I could trust Him with not only my future, but the future of my children.

His eye was on the sparrow and I know He cared for me. We held the proof in our hands.

Chapter twelve- in which God gives me a glimpse of the big picture

I think God knew that I was unraveling with being 7 months pregnant and caring for a 5 month and 23 month old. It was nice having my parents there to help me watch the kids when Justin was at work. I no longer had to worry about cooking meals and doing laundry. Plus, the insurance company ended up giving us a check that was more than it cost to put our house back together. We were able to purchase new carpet, a new kitchen countertop and backsplash, and new area rugs for the bed room and dining room. It was difficult to go back to living with my parents after running my own house now for so long, but we were so blessed. God ended up nesting my house better than I ever could.

We had Nino for eight wonderful weeks. While it was heart-breaking to say goodbye, I knew it was best for Josiah and our baby girl. Three of them (especially with one of them being Nino) would have been impossible. That little boy taught us many lessons that was crucial in preparing our hearts to lose Josiah.

1- There is no shortage of wonderful kids that need loving homes.

2- It is not difficult to fall in love with other children.

3- We can make a difference in the life of a child, even though he or she may be with us for a short amount of time.

4- God will put people in your life for a reason and for a season. His timing. His plan. His purpose. We need to trust that He knows what is for our greatest good and His greatest glory.

5- When I look back on the decision we made to invite Nino into our home, I am extremely grateful we had the opportunity to be in his life. I am not sad. I just feel lucky we were the ones God used to bless him with a safe, loving home. And he blessed us more than he will ever know.

I hope that's the way I will feel about Josiah when God sends him to his forever home. Not sad or remorseful- but happy that I was obediently in his life for the time God called me to be.

And now Nino will be prayed for everyday. Who knows how God is going to intervene when we seek His will for his life? He went to live with his biological father. We still miss him and I think about him often. But I reminisce and smile.

Josiah was still going for visitation every week. His parents were part of a program where they would go to The Family Life Center and take parenting classes along with their kids. It was an all day affair. I hated it. One benefit of this though was that the kids would go on a little school bus to the center, and when they would drop him off I would get to take a peek at Josiah's older brother, David. I would duck underneath the bus's window and pop up and play peek-a-boo with him until the bus driver got Josiah out of his car seat and handed him to me.. He would get a huge smile on his face and let out a big belly laugh.

David was an adorable little boy, and by looking at him, I could see exactly what Josiah would look like in 15 months. He looked strangely familiar. I always thought that it was only because he looked just like Josiah, but there was something more.

One day Justin and I were having a conversation about the people in our licensing classes we took in December 8 months earlier (read chapter 6). We laughed about the annoying woman who would take 15 minutes to answer every single question until even the woman who was teaching the class was rolling her eyes at us. We wondered how the couple was who adopted their niece. And we thought about the nice man who sat across from us who was adopting his grandson. Justin looked at me and asked, "What was Fred's grandson's name he was adopting...do you remember?"

"I think it was David." We both looked at each other, wide eyed. I bit my lip and counted on my fingers how old David would be now. He was 15 months older than Josiah.

Justin called up our case worker, Kristen, who also was the caseworker for Josiah's brother. "Would you be able to tell me the name of Talen's ;o) grandfather?" he asked.

"Fred." she said.

I couldn't believe it! Eight months earlier we were sitting across the table from Josiah's biological grandfather. I don't know why we didn't put the pieces together until now. It was as though God all of a sudden opened our eyes.

We were able to get his number from Kristen and Justin gave him a call. I remember how proud he was of his grandson David and how much he loved him. He must love Josiah just as much and wish he could see him. We were hoping that we could get together with his family so Josiah and David would get to know eachother more.

They were so excited to hear from us, but not as excited as we were! Two weeks before my due date, Fred, his wife Vita, and David came over to my parents house. What two amazing, giving people! We took pictures and talked for hours how blessed we felt to have Josiah in our life. (We were so careful to keep calling him Talen though.) :o) We arranged a time where Josiah would go over to Fred and Vita's house to spend some good quality time with his family.

Fred's sister was the woman who was going to adopt Josiah. If she was anything like Fred, it would definitely lessen the blow of losing him knowing how great he would be taken care of and how much he would be loved.

Justin and I got into foster care to give children a family who didn't have one. As I snapped pictures of Josiah with his grandfather and brother that night, I thought about how this was not a little boy who needed a family. He was already a part of one.

We would not be a family who would be adopting. It was their kind, generous, loving family who were willing to adopt us.

2-Chapter eleven- In which God loosens my grip by handing me more (Part 2)

Lesley (or Nino, as his parents nick-named him) was a Dominican little boy. He spoke no english but had an infectious smile and inquisitive spirit. I was very thankful that I had to take spanish in high school and college. I had about a 22 month old's vocabulary, so I could ask him if he wanted jugo, leche, o agua. We made it work. I quickly learned the difference between an immobile 4 month old and an almost-2 year old who never stopped moving and could lock himself in the bathroom. twice. To say that he was challenging would be inaccurate. Exhausting. Near- impossible. Patience-testing. Maybe that paints a closer picture. He did not like women (most likely because his abuser was a woman I think) but would be an angel when my husband was around. My forearms were covered in scratches and bruises from him testing his boundaries. Even with ever-growing circles under my eyes, I loved him like our own.

He quickly adjusted to life with gringos. We taught him how to count to ten and how to say grace before he ate. He was like a little parrot. This would be our lesson before each meal:

Us: "Dear God,"

Nino: "Diego,"

"Thank you for"

"five"

"Our food."

"food."

"Bless it to"

"Three"

"my body."

"body."

"Amen."

"Aaaaaameeeenn."

He would continually make us laugh. Although life was busy and difficult, having Nino was a blessing. I was too busy and distracted to even think about my pregnancy or if today was the day we were going to lose Josiah. I only had enough energy to make it through the day and none left over to waste worrying.

On one particularly trying day after struggling with Nino to change a diaper, and then chasing him to get his pants back on, he ran into my bedroom. All of a sudden his feet went out from under him and he hit his head on the floor. After drying tears and kissing boo boos, I saw a puddle of water on the floor. Then I looked at the ceiling. There was a steady stream of water trickling down from the bulging drywall overhead.

For months our air conditioner in the attic had been leaking and we didn't know it. When our house had been renovated in the 80's, someone had put sheets of plastic in between the drywall and insulation, blocking any moisture from soaking through to the wall. However, the plastic had also allowed the moisture to fester and fill the insulation and studs with mildew and mold.

As soon as Justin uncovered the array of colors hidden in our bedroom walls, I quickly packed up the kids and their clothes and toys and high-tailed it to my parents house so we wouldn't have to breath in the dangerous air. We had to call DYFS to let them know that the kids would need to be picked up at a different address for their weekly visitations. They flipped. They told us that they would need to remove the children from our care because we were no longer in an "approved home."

I just lost my house. Now I was going to lose my kids.

My heroic husband begged and pleaded for DYFS not to have to find another home for Josiah and Nino. They decided that they would allow us to get my parents' home temporarily approved. Crisis averted.

Atleast one crisis.

There was extensive water and mold damage in our bedroom wall and ceiling and the ceiling and wall of the downstairs living room. By the grace of God our homeowners' insurance covered the damage, but I was not a happy camper. All I wanted to do was "nest" and get ready for my baby that would be here in 2 months. And now I had no tree.

1-Chapter eleven- In which God loosens my grip by handing me more (Part 1)

The most difficult part about thinking about losing Josiah was not knowing if he would be going to a Christian home. Every time there would be a salvation message at church on Sunday I would cry and think, "What if he never hears this? God, how will he know You?" Above all else, I wanted to Josiah to grow up under the grace and admonition of the Lord, to make Godly choices in his life, and to reach his full potential under the influence of Godly friends and from wisdom from the Scriptures. I wanted his life to point others to Christ- to tell others that "God saves" and "God hears". I knew the kind of life God already saved him from. And the life I wanted him to be saved for was one where he lived with us and was taught who God was.

Weekly visits with his parents continued, and my pregnancy progressed. At 24 weeks along, God answered our prayers, and we found out that our baby girl's cyst went away all by itself, four weeks before doctors said that it would! Josiah continued to be a blessing as well. He was growing so quickly.

After our first miscarriage, one of the secretaries at our school gave us an adorable teddy bear. She told us that we could put it in our crib until God blessed us with our first child- then we could give it to him or her. Every month on the anniversary of Josiah's birthday, we would take a picture of him by the bear to show how much he was growing. The first picture was when he was 6 days old; after that we took it on the 19th of every month.

In June, we got another call from DYFS. Each time their number would come up on the caller ID, my heart would sink, thinking this would be the call that would tell us that Josiah would be taken away. That's not what it was. It was a call for another placement. It was for a 22 month old boy who was taken away from his mother due to abuse. The workers told us they had been calling resource homes for three hours and hadn't been able to find a placement for him.

"I'll call you right back," Justin told them. "I need to ask my wife."

With wide eyes I asked the details. It made no sense to even consider it. I was six months pregnant with a four month old baby. I was just getting used to the routine of my new life as a mother and mother-to-be. I was at high-risk for preterm labor. I shouldn't add any more stress to my life. Still, Justin and I prayed that God would reveal His will to us.

Later that night I called my mom to ask her if we could borrow her booster seat. "Why do you need it?" she asked. "Because you're getting another foster grandson." I said. We were absolutely insane, but I'd rather be thought crazy and be obedient than have an easy life and miss out on what God was going to reveal about Himself yet again.

Chapter ten- In which God blesses abundantly and stretches my faith once again

To say that Josiah was a good baby would be an understatement. You know how the Bible says that we are entertaining angels without knowing it? I'm fully convinced that he is one.

The more foster parents we talked to, the more we realized what an unusual situation this was. People were on the waiting list for years to get a new born baby, let alone a healthy full-term baby that wasn't addicted to drugs or had fetal-alcohol syndrome. We were the first foster home DYFS had called for this case. And we said yes. I felt so blessed.

My school gave me three weeks off to stay home and bond with my little boy. It didn't take long. After that, they let me come in for three full days and 2 half days a week. On the half days, I would bring him into school and Josiah would sleep in his stroller while I taught my art classes. He never cried, not even when he was hungry. He would scrunch his face and fuss a little, but I would just scoop him up, hold him close, and he would stop. All of my students absolutely loved him. I'm so glad they could see how good God was to us after they knew everything we had went through to start a family. I hope that some of them will want to become foster parents because of Josiah. Who knows?

Every week I would have to send Josiah to go to visitation with his parents. It killed me. I would cry the entire morning until his transportation would come. I always felt God's presence with me when they would pull into the driveway though. I would let his driver into our home and hand them my little boy and a bag packed full of diapers, a bottle, a book and some toys. I don't know if his parents ever read to him or played with him at the visits, but I always imagined they did, and it made me feel better. He would arrive home a few hours later and it was always my absolute favorite time of the week because I knew it would be another whole seven days until we would have to be separated again.

On my fifth month of pregnancy, we went for another ultrasound of our baby. I loved looking at people's reactions when they saw we were bringing in a 1 month old baby along with my ever-growing tummy. "God Bless you," they would say when we explained our situation. And then I would get to tell him how much He really did.

My mom and Justin and Josiah and I went to the appointment. I had never gotten this far in a pregnancy before and I was so excited to be able to find out what we would be having in four short months. I didn't have that scared feeling I usually did for ultrasound appointments. I would just look over at Josiah and feel like we had our baby. This one would be the cherry on top.

"IT'S A GIRL!" she said as she scanned the ultrasound over my abdomen.

Josiah at one month old had a sister! I couldn't believe that God had blessed us with a daughter and a son in less than one month. However, my celebration was short-lived.

The ultrasound technician continued to scan the length of the femur, and distance between the eyes, and examine her kidneys... it took almost an hour and a half to measure everything she needed. When it came to scanning the brain, the ultrasound technician took her time. "Do you see something?" I asked. "We'll just let the doctor take a look." she said without looking at me. My heart sank.

I heard that answer before. Technicians got to show you all the fun stuff...they let the doctors tell you the bad news.

We went into the "back office" which is never a fun place to go. That's where they send in the parents to get bad news. The Hobbit sat at his desk. The "Hobbit" was a short squatty fat man who had delivered the news we had lost baby #1. He called it "a tissue" at the time. I was not a fan of him.

He told us that our baby girl had something called a corioplexis cyst on her brain. It was only found in .3-.4% of all pregnancies. Lucky us. It was a marker for a fatal disease called Trisome 18. One of two things could happen- either it would go away by itself in a few weeks and be nothing, or it was fatal and our daughter wouldn't live past her first few days. Great options. Thanks.

Lots of birds flew overhead as we drove home that day. All I could think of was the cardinal and hear God's voice say, "If my eye is on the sparrow, how much more do I care for you?"

Every month we would get a visit from our case worker, Kristen, and every month we would hear how plans were moving for him to be transfered to Georgia. His great-aunt had been a foster mother before, they told us, so it shouldn't take too long for the paperwork to go through.

Each time they would leave, I would cry as I would imagine having to hand him over to the case worker and watch her drive away with that sweet baby boy. It was devastating. I would try to tell myself that I should try not to get upset for the sake of my little girl. I would convince myself that I need to enjoy every moment I had with Josiah as long as he was here. He deserved to have a mother and father who loved him like he was never leaving. Worrying, I told myself, wasn't making tomorrow any easier, it was just sucking all of the joy out of today. Josiah deserved better than that. Our little girl deserved better than that.

And God said, "Do you believe that I will work all things out for your greatest good and My greatest glory? Will you trust me with the lives of your children?"

I said, "Today I will, God. But can you ask me again tomorrow?"

Chapter nine- In which God says, "See?" and I exhale

"Does this look like an outfit that a mom would wear?" I asked Justin on Monday morning. "I know we're going to take a lot of pictures today, and I want to look like a mom in the pictures."

He laughed at me and said I looked fine.

We pulled up to Shore Memorial Hospital in Somers Point at around 2:00 on Monday afternoon. With the car seat all strapped in in the backseat and my diaper bag in tote, we braced ourselves for the windy March weather and walked inside of the automatic sliding doors. We sat which seemed like for hours in the foyer, waiting for the DYFS workers to meet us there. (In actuality it was probably ten minutes, but it seemed like FOREVER!) We checked into the front desk and received passes to go up to the maternity floor.

I couldn't stand still in the elevator. I was gushing and bubbly and talking about how excited we were. We rounded the corner into the nursery and saw about five plastic cribs filled with babies wrapped up like sausages.

"Which one is it?"

"He's right here," the nurse said proudly as if she was showing off her own baby.

Can we just talk about moments in your life that will forever be freeze-framed in your mind? This was definitely one of them. He had thick black hair and chubby cheeks and an adorable pudgy nose. He was sleeping peacefully. I had the feeling of wanting to scoop him up in my arms and tell him how much we loved him, how fervently we had prayed for him, how much pain we had to go through to get to this point, but how it all seemed worth it now. I felt dizzy.

For a few seconds everything tunneled. My husband told the nurse how I was four months pregnant and that this was our first foster baby. I had to sit down. I felt like I was going to pass out- half from exhaustion, half from elation. The nurse got me a cup of juice. I felt ridiculous, but I didn't care.

The nurse patiently went through the discharge routine with us. She showed us how to change his clothes and diaper, how to bathe him, feed him, burp him. I felt equipped for the task. All that reading and stressing the days prior, and all of it seemed so natural- it just took a little bit of common sense.

The DYFS workers met us again in the nursery. As we were walking out of the hospital, they gave us the bad news. The parents changed their mind. They found a great-aunt who lived in Georgia that was going to take the baby. They named him already. Talen Lee. Justin and I looked at eachother and scrunched our noses. I felt that same sick feeling I got in those cold, dark ultrasound rooms. Like God was giving us a child again and then going to take it away.

They said, however, that inter-state adoptions take a long time. With fost-adopt babies things change a lot, they said. That it happens all the time that they find a long-lost relative who is willing to take a baby and that most of the time it falls through.

"So what would you say are the chances of us getting to keep him?" I asked.

"Pretty good. I'd say 95%."

I breathed a sigh of relief. He was my son in my heart already. The one I had prayed for for so long.

I sat next to him in the car seat all the way home while Justin drove and asked, "What's he doing now?"

"Sleeping."

"What about now?"

"Sleeping."

I took a lot of pictures of him on my camera phone and sent it to my sisters. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

"What about the name?" Justin asked me. "I guess we have to call him Talen."

"You know," I said, "I feel so strongly that Josiah was the name that God gave you to give to him. I don't care what DYFS says. In our home, as long as he's with us, I think we should call him the name God gave you."

He was our Josiah. God saves.

But he would also be my Samuel, like Hannah's son in the Bible, that I would have to give over to God before He would bless us with other children.

"I just want to keep my baby," I said to God.

And God said, "I would rather you know who I am."