Chapter 33: Issues

It's been a little while since I've had a soul-searching entry because...

1- I've been making Lydia Pins.
2- I've been spending time getting ready for and then having a wonderful weekend with these amazing people.

and 3- There are currently some issues that have been brought to my attention that I haven't wanted to deal with, mostly with God being in control and me not- something I STILL am struggling with and wondering if I can ever put this one issue in the "check.  done.  over it. category."

I'm still not ready to make any leaps and bounds into spiritual success, but I'll recount the good couple of thrashings that I've received lately.  Maybe then you can pray for me and celebrate with me when I stop being so stubborn and do what God is telling me to do.

So here's the issue.  I want my kids.  All of them.  The more I write and think and allow myself to become undone and exposed, the more I realize how angry I still am that so many were taken away from me.  After each miscarriage I was so tunneled into "just get a baby... any  baby ...I need a baby" mode that I don't feel like I really took the time to grieve my losses, and now I feel it gurgling and bubbling up from deep ugly places.  I could ignore it for a while.  Pretend that a baby would fix it.  Foster.  Love other people's kids.  Teach.  Stay busy.  But no, the loss is still there.  It's time to face it, as ugly as it was, as it is.  Because now it's starting to affect the way I love Molly and Josiah and the people I care most about.  It's making me rely on my own strength to love my children the way I want to by thinking I can control what happens to them.

I had a conversation with Jen about the whole thing.  She is my truth-sayer friend.  She'll tell me the truth when its something I need to hear, even if its what I don't want to hear.  I love that about her.  She was always like that, but now I think because of what she has had to endure, she has so much more courage to just say whatever is on her heart- come what may.  She told me that God is going to do whatever He wants to in the lives of our children.  We can stand with Him, we can stand against Him.  One of those choices just won't work out too well for us. ...I'll just copy and paste what she wrote to me...  She's a much better writer than I am and I won't be able to do her words justice...

 "I know the kind of fear that committing the life of your child to God brings. I know the kind of fear that comes when you try to take the control back. It all sucks, it's true. But when push comes to shove, I would always rather be standing on God's side of things, knowing that I stand safely there even though there is danger all around me. And I would always have wanted to stand there with Lydia in my arms, knowing that there was danger all around her. Because of all the places she could have been or I could ever be, we are and always will be safest wherever He brings us...even if it means suffering or pain or death. If He is there, even in danger, we're safe."  


She astounds me.  


And then I read this quote from John Piper's Don't Waste Your Life, the title of the chapter being "Magnifying Christ through Pain and Death," and the subtitle of the section being "How We Handle Loss Shows Who Our Treasure Is."  Yes, thank you, God.  You just make everything such a flashing billboard for me, don't You?!?! 


"But what I know even more surely is that the greatest joy in God comes from giving his gifts away, not in hoarding them for ourselves.  It is good to work and have.  It is better to work and have in order to give.  God's glory shines more brightly when he satisfies us in times of loss than when he provides for us in times of plenty.  The health, wealth, and prosperity "gospel" swallows up the beauty of Christ in the beauty of his gifts and turns the gifts into idols.  The world is not impressed when Christians get rich and say thanks to God.    


They are impressed when God is so satisfying that we give our riches away for Christ's sake and count it gain."   


Good stuff, right?  I know the author is talking about earthly monetary treasures here, but when I read the passage as my children being my greatest wealth, the words were piercing.  Go back and read it again in that context.

I feel like the harder I hold onto what I want (as in what I want being Molly and Josiah to be my children forever) I feel like this illustration:  I feel like when Josiah squeezes his food so hard, is squishes out the back of his hand in between his chubby fingers and it dribbles down his forearm onto his elbow and into his high chair.  When I pry open his hand to try to get him to eat, most of his food is gone, or in an inedible state.  It is wasted.

Holding onto something so tight won't glorify God as nearly as much as letting Him take control.  Because, above everything else, I do want their lives to point to Him, not to me.  It is so simple to say.  So difficult to do.

I feel the control issues rising.  We have bonding evaluations coming up with Josiah.  We had a placement review with our caseworker and her supervisor yesterday where we asked them where things stand.  All things considered- mostly the fact that he's been with us so long- it's looking pretty favorable for us. (That's what they said yesterday.  Who knows about tomorrow?)  I told them how nervous I was about the bonding evaluation and they said, "Oh, its no big deal.  Don't be nervous.  But, that's mostly what the judge is going to consider when she decides where to place him."  Oh, thanks.  Not a big deal AT ALL.

Already I'm thinking about what he'll eat before he goes, the toys I'll bring along with us, how I'm going to make sure he'll have a good night's sleep the night before, how to schedule optimal nap time around the time that the evaluation is scheduled.  Those are all good things to consider.  But I'm agonizing over them.  I'm thinking those things will determine the final decision in the end.  Not true.  And to add the fact Josiah's grandparents have asked for three extra days to visit with him BEFORE the bonding evaluation.  Good timing on their part.  Such a coincidence.  They haven't asked to see him for at least 3 months, and now all of a sudden?

But even extra visits isn't going to show he's not bonded to us, right?  One can but hope.          

2 evaluations-
Wednesday, August 4th.  12:00pm
Wednesday, August 11th.  3:00pm

Justin and me and Josiah in a room with a psychologist watching us interact with him.

Pray, people, pray.  Don't worry, I'll remind you later when we get a bit closer.


I'll leave you on a good note.  Soak in a little of the adorableness.


*The first three pictures were taken by Jen last weekend, and the last one was taken by a family friend Hannah Snyder Chen.  Thanks, girls!  

  

And thanks for your prayers!  :o) 

Lydia Pin Update

Hello, all of you wonderful people who have ordered Lydia Pins!  There has been a phenomenal response and more interest than I could have imagined!  I thought I would tell you a little bit about the process that goes into making your pin so special.

These are my supplies- a foam mat and two kinds of felting needles.  

I pull off a piece of purple wool.  The wool from our sheep is sent away to a place where they clean it, dye it, and make it into something called "roving."  From this state, it is perfect for feeding into a spinning wheel to spin, or in this case, for felting.   

I form the roving into a circle.  

It is put on the foam mat, and I poke it repeatedly with a 3-pronged needle until it becomes felt.

The special barbed needles poke and agitate the wool and make the fibers adhere together.  If you've ever accidentally thrown a wool sweater into a washing machine, you've done the same thing...I'm just doing it on purpose.  

I take the single needle and poke the wool in to form petals.  

Four petals.  I also poke the wool in the form of a cross to make an indent in the middle.  

I repeat once more to make a big and a little flower.  

Using the needle again, I poke the middles to make the two flowers stick together.

Time for beads!  

And the pin back.  

Voila!  Each Lydia Pin is just a little different.  

Sometimes Molly likes to try to help.

Luckily, I can finish a pin in about twenty minutes- just about as long as an episode of Special Agent Oso.  She's a big fan, as you can see.    

There have been orders for 64 pins so far, and I have filled 35!  I can usually get two or three done in a day if I time it just right between nap times. :o)  If you have ordered one, thank you so much for your patience in waiting for yours to come. Please know that I am working hard to get caught up.  If you would like to order one, you can still visit my esty site. (Although be warned, you may need to wait at least 3 weeks before you get it.)  

Want to learn more about the Lydia Pin?  Click on the button here:  

     

Thank you again for your outpouring of love and support for this beautiful girl and her family.  

  

    

Chapter 32: Open Handed

Justin and I had our assistant pastor and his wife over for dinner on Friday.  Despite having the most difficult time trying to get together with them (the last time we did was when Molly was born) we absolutely love spending any amount of time we can with them.  Pastor Ron and Justin are kindred spirits and love talking about everything from school to baseball.  His wife, Stephanie, has the sweetest personality of anyone I've ever known.

After an amazing dinner that Stephanie prepared for us, she and I went into the living room to play with the kids.  I love the way she talks.  She is soft-spoken and her words are gentle and purposeful, filled with kindness and compassion.  After we talked about all that was going on with Josiah, she made a comment that I haven't been able to shake.  

"It must be a wonderful experience to have the opportunity to love your children differently," she said.  

I was taken aback a little.  I am very conscious to try to treat Molly and Josiah the same.  Every morning, I try to dress them similarly.  If Josiah only wears a onesie for the day, so does Molly.  They eat similar breakfasts.  If one has yogurt, so does the other.  They each get to choose a book we read.  If Josiah wants to sit on my lap, I will make sure Molly sits there too.  They even have alternating nap schedules so I can make sure they have some alone time with me.  I guess being a middle child and natural-born score keeper, I am very diligent that I do my best to keep things even.  I don't want them to ever look back at their childhood and think that I favored one over the other.  

But that's not what Stephanie meant.  "You love them both unconditionally, of course," she said, "but you need to love Josiah with an open hand.  You have to prepare your heart that whatever God chooses for Josiah's future, you will be okay with that and trust that He knows best.  Don't you wish all parents could love their children like that?"

Yes, I do.  But do I?  No.  


I know I don't talk about Molly much in my blog.  Partly it's because I feel like this is Josiah's story- its what happens to him.  It's what I learn about God through him.  It's how God is shaping our family because of him.  And I tell you about Josiah because I covet your prayers on his behalf.  I truly want God's best for his life, and I want to be okay with that in the end, whatever that will be.  You don't need to pray for Molly.  She is mine.  She always will be.  My fist is clasped tightly around her.  I know what you all think when I'm whining about Josiah leaving-  "Well, even if the state takes him, you'll still have Molly.  You should be thankful."  Yes- the thought crosses my mind daily.  There will be a hole if he goes, but at least there will be someone to partially fill it.  I am thankful for her.  She is amazing.  A gift.  And she's all mine.  


But Stephanie was right, it is a different kind of love.  Would I send Molly away once a week with a complete stranger to spend an hour or two with two people that the state has deemed "unworthy to care for children"?  Loud resounding,"NO!!!  That's ridiculous!!!"  But I have to do it with Josiah.  Why?  Because that's part of fostering.  Yes, I knew what I was getting myself into partially- at least that part.  And when he drives away without me, I have to trust his life into the hands of his Heavenly Father.  But I'm not faced with that opportunity with Molly daily.  I don't think about her future because I have a sense that I will be able to control it.


If I'm being honest, I am nervous about giving God control over Molly's life.  Every time in the past I have dedicated a child into God's care, that child has either died or is now in the process of being taken away.  We got Josiah dedicated at church when he was four months, exactly a year ago now- when the state told us that they would be removing him from our care "any day now." We told God, we trusted Him with Josiah's future.  I am absolutely terrified to do the same with Molly.  She is mine.  I don't want to stand in front of my church family and tell them that I am handing over Molly's life to Him.  Sounds silly when I write it out.  I know that God knows what's best for her, but I'm afraid that means He will take her.       

The next day after Ron and Stephanie came over, my sister came home from a week of leading worship at a Christian camp.  She was telling my mom and I all about crazy stories of campers, and food that they ate, games that they played, conversations she had, and sermons that she heard.  Her favorite sermon, she said, was about Moses.  She recalled the part when God asked Moses to throw down his staff and God turned it into a snake so that God could use it to get the attention of the Egyptians.  The alter call that evening was, "What do you have in your hand, that if you threw it down, God could use it to glorify Himself?"


Ugh.  I hate when God kicks my butt.  


 Maybe this whole story is not about how He is slowly prying my fingers off of Josiah's future and then comforting me with having Molly's in my other hand's grasp.  


Maybe its about letting them BOTH go so that God can work His perfect will in both of their lives.  


I am so afraid that loving them open-handed will cause me to be empty-handed.    



   
       

Chapter 31: Advocates

Advocate –noun. a person who speaks or writes in support or defense of a person, cause, etc.  


Today was court again.  Hello, familiar headache and oh-so-queezy stomach ache.  I was the only one to show up in court besides Josiah's parents and lawyers.  Josiah's extended family wasn't there like usual.  Since Justin couldn't go with me like he always does, my mom came to keep me company in the waiting area.  She is awesome.    



My mom never sits still.  I do not have a single memory of her sitting somewhere, even in our living room, with her hands being idle.  Whether its knitting, or making baskets, or spinning, or felting, or quilting, or sewing, or embroidering, etc. she is always making something.  This made for a quite embarrassing childhood when we went to doctors offices or if she came to watch me play basketball games.  (Yes, she cheered whilst knitting.)  I perfected the my-mom-is-crazy-eye-roll when I was a teenager.  But now, I'm over it.  Now I think she's pretty amazing.  I'm always surprised to see how many people are willing to talk to a complete stranger when they see what she's doing.  It's usually something like, "How do you do that without looking?" or "My aunt can do that." of "Wow!  You're so fast!  I wish I could make something like that."  

How cute is she in her garden?


My mom is great at having conversations with anyone, and knitting gives her a platform.  She will tell people how the yarn she is knitting with comes from our sheep, which she bred, birthed, fed, nurtured, gave a hair cut, spun their wool on a spinning wheel, and now she is using that yarn to make something. She will show them the purse she made from wool that is felted and decorated from wool that has been dyed.  Sometimes the conversation will lend itself to all the amazing things you can learn from the Bible because you understand what sheep are really like.  She is an advocate for sheep, for the fiber arts, for making pieces of history with your hands, and equipping people to make their own history with the classes she teaches from her home.  You can check out the amazingness on her website.  Yesterday we were brainstorming about her Etsy site and the CSA she wants to start.  (Consumer Supported Agriculture where people get perks every season- like felting kits, wool, yarn, and homemade Jersey fresh jam- for buying shares of the farm... I'll let you know when that's all set up.)  


Also during our loooong wait for them to call our docket, I was addressing envelopes for the Lydia Pin orders I've gotten.  We got there at 8:20 and by 9:18 all of the envelopes were addressed.  Bummer.  I was hoping it would keep me and my mind busy for longer.  So then I started decorating the envelopes.  Apologies if your envelope comes doodled on.  I was bored and anxious.  Sitting there with my mom, both our hands working on projects bigger than ourselves, I let my mind wander about advocacy.  I was thinking that because of sheep and felting, it has enabled me to become and advocate for Lydia and the story of God's faithfulness in her life.  I was excited that maybe these pins will equip others to be advocates too.  


Finally our name was called and I walked into the court room and took a seat in the back part behind the partition that separates the important people from the non-important people.  I so much want to be an advocate for Josiah, who can not have a voice among the "importants" of the room.  His law guardian is his official advocate, and she is awful.  She stands up and declares his good health and how he is meeting all of his developmental milestones.  Useless information.  Why can't she talk about what an amazing home he's in- how loved he is, how well taken-care of he is, how his foster parents are awesome and how they want to adopt him?  How will the judge know if no one tells her?  


I'm hoping that's what a psychologist will say when they give a report of the bonding evaluation that is coming up on August 4th and August 11th.  There is also a trial set for October 4th if no suitable candidate is found for him and DYFS needs to remove custody from the parents instead of them relinquishing their rights to someone.  


During entire day, I had a song playing in my head.  (Take a minute and listen to it after you're done reading.  Let the truth of it sink in.  I pray you can claim this truth for yourself.)  As frustrating as the situation is, God reminds me that I do have an advocate to speak for me.  How easy it is to forget.  I am so willing to take the situation in my own hands, to think that anything I will do or say will change the outcome of where Josiah's forever home will be.  It is hard to relinquish feeling like I have anything to do with what will happen in the end.  I have an Advocate who is doing everything I need to ensure that God's name is glorified and everything will happen for our good.  








Jesus's work on the cross tells me that when I get to Heaven, He will be my advocate.  On that final day of my life I do not have to worry about what will happen with my eternal life because when God looks at me, He will see Jesus.  He will speak for me.  Do you know what a relief that will be?!  


Along with that, what happened to the temple veil tells me something that I forget often.  I have access to God NOW.  The price for that was so high.  It cost a perfect, sinless man his life.  At times I take that for granted.  With an utterance, I am in the presence of God because of what Jesus did.  He speaks to God for me.  He can tell Him my thoughts, my dreams, and better yet, He can change those dreams to fit His will.  


It has been a slow process, but I can see this happening.  There are days when it is easy to do like today, when I realize I have absolutely no control over anything that I want to have control over.  Foster care lets me be an advocate for the work God is doing in my life and the lives of those around me.  More importantly, it teaches me that I only need to be faithful and let MY Advocate work His perfect will in my life....and Josiah's life.      

Upcoming Court...Maybe?

We have another court date coming up on Monday.  This would be the court that we were supposed to have on June 21st, which got postponed from May 17th when one of the lawyers didn't show up. Third time's the charm?

I don't really want to go, especially since Justin can't go with me.  He has to work that day.  Boo.  I figured if I can drive in New York City, Atlantic City is no big deal, right?  My palms just started to sweat thinking about it.  I am so not independent.

I'm really really bummed that I won't be able to bring my felting stuff with me because I have to walk through a metal-detector before I can get into the building.  I'm thinking 3-pronged 3-inch barbed needles might be mistaken for a weapon.  "No, no, policeman, I'm felting flowers out of purple wool to make pins."  That sounds plausible, right?

Again, no idea what court will be about.  Although, I did get a call from Josiah's law guardian asking the usual, "How's he doing?  What's he eating?  How much does he weigh?  What's going on- has DYFS told you?"  She is Josiah's advocate at court who does nothing.  I think she thinks by finding out answers to her questions, she now knows all about him.   She always tells me she thinks he should stay with me, but then when we get to court she tells the judge absolutely nothing.

During this phone call she said to me, "If he were 8 months, it would be a different story, but he's 15.  I can't imagine him moving out of your home when he's doing so well, is so attached to you,  and it doesn't appear that the family is exactly eager to get him.  Enough's enough.  He needs a permanent home."

Oh, geez.  Give me hope, why don't you?  Kick me when I'm down.

I'm choosing not to think about it and working hard on getting all of your Lydia pin orders out in a timely manner.

We've had 45 orders so far, by the way.  Keep them coming!  :o)

A Pin for Lydia

Recently, my friend Jen posted a very inspiring link on her blog.  It's about how her sister-in-law, Liz is running a triathlon in honor of Jen's baby girl, Lydia.  She is raising support to add to the fund that Jen and Micah have set up in Lydia's name.  I've been giving this idea some thought in the past, but Liz inspired me to get things moving...  

It got me thinking- How could I use my time and talents to bless Jen and Micah and honor Lydia?  And this was my idea...  

Chapter 30: In Which I do a little foot stomping and fist shaking

I am angry.  I am sad.  I am confused.  I feel hopeless, used, empty.  crushed.  Let it be known, this will not be a happy post.  But also know, I will not feel as sad when I finish this as you might think I am.  Writing makes me feel better.  It is cathartic.  I need to organize my thoughts.  My head is spinning in a million different ways and I just need to find my focus again.  I have a pretty good idea of where that focus will be in the end.  But first- I need to hack some proverbial jungle leaves with a machete and then I'll feel better about where I end up.

On Wednesday our caseworker came over for her monthly check-in.  This time she came with her supervisor- something new and different.  Maybe, I thought, something positive is happening.  As always, I air my grievances about how visits with Brenda are going.  I tell her how I think she would make an amazing grandmother-type figure in his life, I truly don't think she's capable of keeping up with a toddler.  The supervisor offers some tangible advice about what her plan of action is: to make sure that the doctor will be honest with his recommendation on her medical form she still needs to get, or she will try to intervene.  Awesome.  Someone on my side finally.  The caseworker tells the supervisor how Brenda has gotten her house approved, but nothing else on her certification-to-do-list.  No classes, fingerprints, medical form, etc.  The supervisor asks why not?  We both shrug our shoulders.

The supervisor looks at me, "Well- as you know, we always consider family first."

"Well, here's the thing," the caseworker chimes in..."The grandfather has said that if the aunt won't get him, that he will adopt him."

WHAT?!?!

"Why didn't they just get him when he was born then?"  the supervisor asks.

"Two babies was too much for them to handle with them both working." she says. "But next year, the grandmother is retiring."

WHAT!?!?

I am Alice falling down the rabbit hole.  I always knew that Brenda was "Plan A."  But I never never NEVER imagined I was "PLAN C."  There was hope when I was Plan B. One thing fell through and Josiah was a part of OUR forever family.  Why did no one tell us this until now?

I feel lied to and deceived.  What do I look like?  Someone who will "babysit" your grandchild for you until you decided that it is convenient for you to take him back?!?!

Of course my mind races back to the bonding evaluation.  What if he is too bonded to us?  Then my imagination takes me to the court room where the judge says, "I am ruling in favor of the foster parents instead of the child's biological grandparents who already have his biological brother."  That sounds ridiculous.  I think about our foster child Nino who was 18 months when we got him, who maybe cried for a day before he was absolutely fine with us and didn't even ask for his mom.  I think about my nephew Jesse who stayed with his foster mom until he was two and a half and now doesn't even remember her name or recognize pictures of her.

I can't imagine I will be anything in Josiah's future, at best a distant foggy memory of feeling safe and happy and loved.  Yes, of course they have told us we will still have contact.  But do I even want contact with him, seeing how happy he is without me?  Or worse, seeing how unhappy he is living in a home that isn't mine?

I should be happy he's loved by so many people.  I should be grateful that the problem is that too many people want him.  I should be happy he might live with his "real" brother.  But what about Molly?  He's more of a brother to her than to his biological brother.  What have I done to my poor daughter?  It wasn't her choice to lose her brother.  I did this to her.

I am planning my lengthy plea to Josiah's family, where I'm on my knees sobbing that they don't take my son away from me.

But he's not my son.  He never was.  At least not by name, anyway.  I have no claim over him whatsoever.  I just don't understand why God would put him in my life and make me think I had an actual chance to keep him.  This was a life I chose for myself though.  I knew there was a chance of this happening.  And knowing what I do now, I still would have chosen to take him into our home in a heartbeat, no questions asked.  I love that boy.  And I love being his mama.  And I love what he has made me family because he's in it.

Lately I've been listening to my Bible on CD while I feed the babies breakfast.  When I heard the latest news, I popped in I Samuel.  I want to be Hannah.  I want to be okay placing my baby's future in God's hands.  I can clearly remember praying the prayer she prayed.  "God, if you give me a son, I will give him to You."  I wonder if Hannah ever said to God, "Okay, I know that's what I prayed, but I only said that so You'd give me what I wanted.  Do I HAVE to give him to You?  I really really want to keep him for myself- to watch him grow.  I will do all the right things, raise him the right way, teach him about You.  Are you SURE Your plan is to leave him in the temple with a priest I don't even know?"

I don't know if she prayed that or not, but if she did, I think God would take her back to the first time she met Eli when he accused of of being a crazy drunk lunatic.  He would remind her of her first prayer and tell her that He was going to glorify Himself through her sacrifice.

God took me back to the time we had him dedicated at our church last July- almost a year ago now.  I remember Justin telling the congregation through broken sobs of how we would be losing our son any week now.  I remember praying for Josiah's future and telling God that we trusted Him with it.  I didn't imagine it.  I said it, I prayed it, and in that moment, I really meant it.  But now, when I think this story isn't going to end with God blessing us with our son permanently, can I renegotiate?  Please?

My heart is breaking at the anticipation of loss.  I can feel the small hairline fractures creeping in.

What's better?  To live my life there is hope of it being how I want it to be?  Or to live realistically, bracing myself for pain?  If I pray that he stays and he doesn't, am I going to be angry at this God I put all my trust in?  If I guard my heart, and realistically look down the corridor of my future and not see Josiah there, am I going to start building walls, and force people out of my life because they remind me of him?

I think I need to go back and read some old posts.  I need to pick up some of those old stones I started stacking long ago, feel their weight, remembering the joy I had when I placed them at the feet of my King and told Him I trusted what he was doing even though I didn't understand how He would work all things out for good because I loved Him and was called according to His purpose.

It feels like rain.  A change in the natural order of things.

  

Chapter 29: What I See, What I Want, and What I Know

Today in honor of a wonderfully talented, recently-departed artist that I met when I was in college, I brought a book written by him to read while waiting at court today.  I love art books.  Yes, I'm twenty-eight and my favorite kind of book has more pictures than words.  The book is called "How I Paint: Secrets of a Sunday Painter."  There's nothing better than reading a writer's words who can describe the artistic process.

"Every picture I paint is a three-way struggle between what I know, what I see, and what I want.  Little kids draw what they know: the sky is up, so blue appears at the top of the page; Mommy is important, so she's big.  As we get older, we try to copy what we see: the sky goes down behind he land; Mommy looks dark when she stands in front of the window.  Then comes wanting: how to make the sky threatening, Mommy a refuge.  This desire level is wide open.  It can be about wanting to create certain abstract shapes and colors, about expressing views on politics, religion,... or anything, but without it, talent and skill have no place to go.  And the reverse it true: passion is powerless in the hands of the inept."
~Thomas S. Buechner

The Department of Youth and Family Services is not the best at communication, apparently.  Sometimes they'll make appointments and not call or show up.  Sometimes they'll be an hour late picking Josiah up for visitation, and sometimes I'll call an hour after they're supposed to pick him up and they'll say, "Oh, visitation was canceled today.  Did no one call you?"  No- that would be YOUR job, caseworker lady.  And today, surprisingly (although I shouldn't be surprised) our court date was moved and no one bothered to tell us.  Thank you, DYFS, for always being diligent when it comes to my child's future.  You are awesome.

Justin and I showed up early at court today eager to hear some news and got nothing- except for a few fun conversations with a parent of one of Justin's students and a pastor of a church that we know who also fosters.  (It's nice to have someone to talk to other than the crazies.)

We prayed for God's will to be done, and for Him to slow the process down and that's what we got.  Three more glorious weeks of no court and no bad news.  God is good.

I love how art mimics life.  My life is the constant battle between what I see, what I want, and what I know.

This is what I see:
I see God answering prayer and stretching out this process longer than it should be taking.
I see God bless us with a daughter and a son.
I see God calling us into a deeper and deeper faith in Him.

This is what I want:
I want God to answer my ultimate request: to have my family be what it always is now.
I want Molly's brother to be Josiah.
I want Josiah's daddy to be Justin.
I want my faith to grow in the midst of uncertainty.

This is what I know:
I know that God not answering all of my prayers in the past has lead to more blessings than I could have imagined.
I know that God's plan is perfect.
I know that I am called to a life where I can't see the end.  And for that, I'm glad.  If God revealed everything to me all at once, I am quite certain that I wouldn't want to get out of bed in the morning.

I am thankful for people who don't do their jobs and communicate like they should.  Being in a place of uncertainty that calls me to rely on God always sharpens my focus on what I see and what I want and what I know to be true.

In the words of Buechner, "Talent and skill have no place to go [without desire].  And the reverse is true: passion is powerless in the hands of the inept."  I know that God is calling me to a life that is balanced between the passion that He's put in my heart and the lessons He is forming in my head. 

Court...again

Remember how last month we went to court and it was postponed until June 21st?  Well- here it is.  Court again.  Ugh.

I've waited to post to ask for prayer mostly because I didn't want to think about it.  But here it is, along with that familiar pit in my stomach.  We usually have no idea about what court is going to be about.  Here's what I do know:  I know that the state is trying to take parental rights from Josiah's parents for his brother, David.  I know that Brenda will be coming and testifying if the judge asks her to.  I know that we will testify if the judge asks us to, although that has never happened.  I know that there's a bonding evaluation planned for August 4th, so I'm thinking that the parents' lawyer is going to say nothing should happen until then.  Other than that, as usual, we're in the dark.

Practically, here's what you can pray for:

-Ultimately, I would love to see Josiah's family see what a great place he's in and WANT him to stay with us.
- Pray that if we are called to testify, that we will make a good impression on the judge.
- Pray that the judge would want to expedite the process of taking parental rights away and give Josiah to us :o)
- Pray that God would slow the process down for Brenda to get certified (I know, mean, but this is what we have been praying for, and so far, He has.)  
- Pray that everyone shows up, and something is actually moving forward.

I can't thank you enough for all of your prayers and kind thoughts.  I'll be sure to post tomorrow on anything that's happening.

I love that boy.  (and that girl...and their daddy.)  :o)  

Six Years! *warning*... full of cheese :o)

I dated Justin for seven and a half years, and then we got married.  I hate that I can say that in one breath and it doesn't even come close to grasp the enormous weight of miserable agony that it caused me to not be married to my best friend until after I graduated college. (Me? Impatient?  Maybe just a tad.) There have been so many seasons in my life Justin has stood by my side.

He met me when I wore one of two colors everyday: navy blue or maroon.  Knee socks, sweater vest, collar at attention.  We had arguments about who loved each other more before we hung up the phone every night.  (We also argued about who would hang up the phone first.)  He called me "cutie pie."

He loved me from a few hundred miles away, my sweatshirts and jeans and toes of my shoes splattered in paint.  He called me his long distance girlfriend.

He asked me an important question and gave me a diamond to wear on my hand.  He finally...FINALLY called me his fiance.

He adored me when I walked down the aisle in the most beautiful white wedding gown I have ever seen.  He told me he would be with me all the days of his life.  I finally got to tell him "goodnight" and "good morning" all in the same day.  He called me his wife.

He helped me do my best as he worked by my side.  I wore skirts to the knee and artsy necklaces.   He called me his colleague and co-laborer in Christ.

He cried with me when our dreams were broken.  He let me wear his oversized sweatshirts with my tears wiped on the cuffs of the sleeves and tissues in the pockets.  He called me a mother even though my arms were empty.

He helped me choose my outfit the day we went to pick up our foster son from the hospital.  A brown shirt and blue jeans.  He told me I looked like a mom even when I didn't feel like one.    

He labored in prayer next to me as I wore a hospital gown.  He held our daughter and said she was beautiful because she looked like me.  He proudly called me the mother of his daughter.

He comes home to me everyday, my clothes covered in baby drool and rice cereal, my hair pulled back in a pony tail, wearing the same pair of jeans I wore the day before.  He tells me my job is harder than his and that he doesn't care how the house looks.  He cooks dinner and does the dishes because he knows I've had a hard day.  He calls me an amazing mother to Molly and Josiah.  He always tells me how much they love me.

There are precious moments when I feel like I look my worst on days when the kids never nap at the same time and the house is a disheveled wreck, and Justin looks at me like I'm back in my plaid skirt and he can't wait to hold my hand.  Or he hugs me like he hasn't seen me in weeks just like when I wore my art-major apron.  Sometimes he still looks at me in awe just like he did when I walked towards him with flowers in my hands.

I am honored to be loved by such an amazing man who has stood by my side for so many seasons of my life.  Today marks six years since he promised me that there would be many more seasons together and many many more clothes to wear.  :o)  Happy Anniversary, Justin!  I praise God for the blessing that you are to me and our children.  I love you so much!    

Chapter 28: A Visit to Dr. Helpful

Josiah is still a foster child, which means he is on insurance covered by the state- Medicaid.  There are not a lot of doctors that take that insurance in our area due to its "that's all the state is paying for....suck it up" mentality.  Fortunately there is an office that is less than ten minutes away from where we live.  UNfortunately, it is not a pediatrician, just a general practitioner that covers everything from fevers to foot fungus.

Let me just paint a picture for you what the waiting room of the office looks like.  I don't mean to sound discriminatory or elitist or bigoted, but do you know how when you go to the DMV you say to yourself, "Where do these people COME from?  They must only exist here."  Not true- apparently when they're not at the DMV, they're at a government-subsidized healthcare facility- or at family court.  You know what I'm talking about- the woman with one eyebrow and a hairy mole growing out of her lip, the family with 5 children that all seem to be under the age of 3, the guy with the one arm scratching places he shouldn't in public with his claw.  Granted, there are "normal" people there also, but let me just say its a cultural experience, and one that keeps me entertained while I wait for a ridiculous amount of time- even after scheduling my appointment months in advance.  

After an hour and a half, we are finally taken to a examination room.  The doctor comes in after another half an hour, sits down across the room and starts shuffling through paperwork.  He is large and sweaty and bald, and his rotund bottom tests the durability of the small swivel-stool he perches on.  In between scribbling notes on Josiah's chart, clearing his throat about a dozen times, and nodding his head as he writes, he's pushing up his glasses that keep sliding down his nose.  Josiah has had it by then and so have I.  He's walking around the room, a book in each hand, banging the walls and anything else that he thinks will make a fun noise.  I finally decide I should wrangle him once again, so I walk across the room, pick up my 26.6 pound little moose, and sit him on my lap.  The doctor looks up at us for the first time since he came in the room five minutes ago.

He clears his throat again, "So....is he walking yet?"

Seriously?


After answering more politely than I should have, I blurted out a question I had since he wasn't going to be asking if I had any himself.  "So...I'm concerned about how much juice he drinks.  He won't drink just plain water, and I know that juice has a lot of sugar in it.  How much juice should he have in day?"

He looks up, annoyed, like I just distracted him from his "job."  "Ummmmm....no more than a few ounces at a time."

I scrunch my nose and raise an eyebrow.  Ummm...was that an answer?  I quickly nod and smile when I realize I'm making a face.


Finally, I just ask the one question I know he will have an answer to.  I know he has a chart right in front of him.  "What percentile is he for his weight and height?  I'm concerned he's too big.  The boy loves to eat."


He shuffles shuffles shuffles, finds the chart, and pretends to do a little mathematical calculation. "Ummmmm....  he's fine."

Ok...was THAT an answer?  Did I miss it? Like 30th percentile fine or 90th percentile fine?  I tell myself I'll just find a chart online when I get home.


Poor Josiah gets a few shots, and after kissing a few tears away, we bolt out the door.  They tell me to make another appointment for him in three months.  I get that sad feeling I always do when leaving the office thinking, "I wonder if I'll still have him when the time comes for his next appointment."

Oh, government healthcare, I loathe thee.

Psalm Twenty-Seven: Fear and Light

"The Lord is my light and my salvation- whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life- of whom shall I be afraid?  
When evil men advance against me to devour my flesh, 
when my enemies and my foes attack me, they will stumble and fall, 
Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear, 
though war break out against me, 
even then will I be confident." v. 1-3


...Just go and break out your Bible and read the entire chapter.  It is 14 verses of awesomeness.  You will need a highlighter or a pen to underline.  You might just want to underline all of it.  It will be well worth your while- I promise.

There have been two times in my life where I can remember being truly afraid.  (OK- 3 if you count the time I made a wrong turn coming home from Connecticut and drove through NEW YORK CITY. I can't talk about that one yet.  When I do, I relive it, and my palms get all clammy.)  Consequently, during both of those scary times I had one of my dear friends beside me.

This is Carissa. Carissa was the first person I met at college.  We were both art majors and clicked instantly.  That's not a difficult thing for Carissa to do with most people.  I know it's cliché to say, but she's one of those people who truly lights up a room when she walks into it.  She can have a conversation with anyone- and often does- on trains, subways, people working a cash register, etc.,  and more often than not she leaves a conversation having put a smile on the other person's face (that is, if she's not telling that person what an idiot they are, which she also can do with ease and gusto.)
She is the bravest and most independent person I know.  She lives and works in New York City and knows all of the subway trains to get from place to place.  That, to me, is impressive.  It figures that when I look back on the two most fearful times on my life, God would put the bravest person I know next to me.  Funny.

---Number One---
My sophomore year, a few college friends and I went for a little weekend jaunt to Carissa's hometown of Canandaigua, NY, about an hour and a half away from school.  We had fun together and laughed a lot, as we always did.  We made a trip to Wegman's (OH, I MISS YOU, WEGMAN'S) and saw all the places where Carissa went to school and church.  I drove.  I will be the first to tell you that when given the choice to either be the driver or the passenger, I will pick passenger every time.  I don't like driving, nonetheless driving in the arctic tundra that is Western New York.  On our way back to school from our adventure, what started out as a beautiful dusting of swirling, dancing snow on the highway quickly turned into a completely disastrous blustery white-out.  I could barely make out a foot of pavement in front of the car.  We knew that it was too late to turn back; it was only going to get worse throughout the day.  So we trudged along at a snail's pace.  Every so often we could make out a car or two that had skid across the road and was tail-end up in a ditch.  I truly feared for my life.  I was clutching the steering wheel white-knuckled.  Carissa sat in the passenger seat next to me and kept reassuring me that I was doing a great job and we would get back safely.

I kept imagining all the things I wouldn't get to do if I died in a snow storm.  No more painting.  No wedding.  No babies.  It's amazing how fear can disable right-thinking.  It paralyzes me.       

We all  prayed together, and the verse that kept repeating itself over and over in my mind was Psalm 27.  

"The Lord is my light and my salvation- whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold of my life- of whom shall I be afraid?"

  

There's nothing like wisdom from Scripture that can bring light into the darkest parts of my mind.  It reveals the true nature of my faith in God and puts in perspective how much I should be trusting Him with my future.  

We did end up making it back to school safely, by the way.

---Number Two---
Carissa and I went to Italy for three weeks along with our art department.  We visited the three art meccas- Venice, Rome, and Florence.  There were about thirty of us altogether in the group, including our four professors.  While we were in Florence, we stayed in a one-star hotel- basically a hostel with five or so beds in a room and bathrooms for everyone to share in the hallway.  It was only our group that was staying on the third floor, so no one bothered to lock their rooms.  It was a hassle.  If anyone woke up during the night to use the bathroom, someone would have to stay awake to unlock and re-lock the door with a key.  I am a super light sleeper.  It would have made for a very long night.
On the second morning in Florence, I awoke to panic-striken people running up and down the hallway.  "Check your wallets!  Check your money!" I kept hearing.

I rubbed my eyes, and looked over at my nightstand that Carissa and I shared, on which I carefully placed my money belt on the night before. The money belt had been hap-hazardly strewn on the floor, my passport and credit card spilled out.  Someone had broken into our room, used sleeping gas to make sure we remained asleep, and taken all of our cash.  Four rooms were broken into that night, with a total of $1200 stolen.

 It was hard to fall asleep the next night.  I was afraid.  I imagined what may have happened if I had woken up and the robber was inches away from me.  What if they came back?  We locked our door the next night and every night after that.  My moneybelt was safely tucked inside my pillow case.  I knew the chances of it happening again two nights a row were slim.  But still, I was truly fearful.

Again, God brought this same scripture to mind.

"The Lord is my light and my salvation- whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold of my life- of whom shall I be afraid?  

When evil men advance against me to devour my flesh, 

when my enemies and my foes attack me, they will stumble and fall, 

Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear, 

though war break out against me, 

even then will I be confident."

I remember sitting in a train next to Carissa saying this verse out loud to each other, memorizing it, soaking in all the truth, bathing the dark corners of our minds with light from God's word.  

It was so much easier to sleep after that.

When I think of those two instances, they both have something in common.  My imagination.  My imagination can take me anywhere, and when I let my mind taste and then bite and then devour deception and lies, I convince myself that my God is too small to handle my circumstances.  Fear is the result.  Fear takes my mind to the "could-be's" and "what-if's" and I start to practice feeling what I would feel in those circumstances.  Maybe it's a way of guarding my heart- so if those things do happen, those feelings won't be unfamiliar in that moment.  I'll be prepared.  

But one thing is wrong with that.  In my imagining those circumstances, God is absent.  His presence is not there.  It is complete darkness.  I fail to recognize that God will be beside me in my moment of need- guiding, reassuring, strengthening, surrounding me with His children (people like Carissa) to be a voice of reason and light and life and truth from God's Word.      

Fear is a waste of my imagination.    

I'm not talking about using common sense and imagining the worst and being prepared.  I'm talking about fear that cripples my faith into thinking I am more alone than I really am.

What, then, am I encouraged to think about?  This is David's solution: Before an army overtakes him and war is all around him, he makes the commitment to be confident in his God.

"One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple.  For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock." v. 4-5


I am so thankful for the truth of these verses.  On days when I let my mind wander to dark places filled with fear for myself and for my family, I can cling to this truth and know that God will not abandon me in the dark.  He is my light and my salvation.  Truth dispels darkness.  

Psalm Twenty-Six: Heart and Mind and Feet

"Vindicate me, O LORD, for I have lead a blameless life.  

I have trusted in the LORD without wavering.  

Test me and try me, 

examine my heart and my mind; 

for your love is ever before me, 

and I walk continually in your truth." v. 1-3

Dear God,
It is one thing to lead a blameless life- to walk worthy of your calling and do all of the external actions that show that I love you.  However, the psalmist doesn't ask You to test his outward appearance.  He asks You to test his heart (emotions) and his mind (his thoughts.)  It is this inward struggle that is so much more difficult than simply "doing" what is right.  But the psalm offers the solution to both of these things,  1- God can guide our hearts into feeling the right way when we are focused on how He loves us.  2- We will think rightly when we are continually in His truth daily.

The illustration (forgive me- I was in a pregnant-tired and newborn-baby-in-the-house-tired when I drew this.  I'm warning you now...the quality is going to go down for the next few.)  shows a man focused on the sacrifice of Christ.  His heart and mind have aligned his directional charge.  (If I drew this again, the feet would have been pointed the same way, like he's walking.  He looks a little tired and dizzy and confused here- like I was at the time.) ... but you get the point- hopefully.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately.  Emotions.  Why is it so difficult to put what I know to be true  into practice?  Why do I let the way I feel about a situation dictate my attitude? I always thought as long as I'm doing what I know God wants me to do, I'm covered.  He's happy.  Granted, I may not always have the best attitude while I'm doing it, but atleast I'm doing it, right?

If you've been reading for a while, you know I'm speaking about visitation.  Brenda.  She is my Nineveh.  I go through the actions because I know God wants me to.  I know that anthing I do or don't do isn't going to ultimately change who gets to be the parents in Josiah's forever home.  I know that God is in control of his life.  I know that this is the path God wants me on despite my constant whining.  So why, every week, do I still feel swallowed up and spit out? I feel absolutely awful the day before, the day of, and the day after she comes to my house to play with Josiah.  I am drained of all energy.  Stripped of all sanity.  Robbed of joy.  Laden with guilt that I should be happy that his great-aunt loves him so much.    

I know why.  It's because my head and my heart are telling my feet to go in different directions.  And I'm dizzy.

 Scripture tells me that God can change the way I think.

Romans 12:2
Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.


I always thought that our intellectual selves belong to God. I, then, made the assumption, that my if my mind belongs to God, emotions belong to me.  Emotions are the human reaction of the spiritual experience of God changing the way that I think.  That's one thing I love about Psalms.  The psalmist's emotions are real.  He tells God what he thinks about the world around him.  But he is also quick to tell God the truth about Himself, and then (this is really cool) knowing the truth not only changes the way he thinks....it changes the way he feels.  

The God I serve is not just Lord over my mind; He can be Lord over my heart too.  And when I let Him transform my thinking to line up with Scripture, I can then truly yield all of me- emotions included- to His good, pleasing, and perfect will.     

Ready, head?  check.  Ready, heart? check. Ok, feet...NOW you can start moving forward.  And if you forget your motivation, just look at the cross, and let Jesus' love for you inspire you to love others the way He does.    


"Vindicate me, O LORD, for I have lead a blameless life.  I have trusted in the LORD without wavering.  Test me and try me, examine my heart and my mind; for your love is ever before me, and I walk continually in your truth." 

And the winner is....

GINA!  You're the winner!  


I'll get working on your very own original Psalm Ten if you're sure that's the one you want.  All I need is your address and it will be on its way ASAP.  


Thank you to all who entered.  :o)