it's changing me...keepin' it real

It's so funny, when I look back on this foster parenting journey, how much I've changed. See,

1. I am no longer the "good" mom. I used to spaz out over my kids getting in bed on time...not getting that bug that's going around...not touching the buggy unless it's sanitized...eating the right kinds of foods...

I could keep going, people.

And now? With 4 littles...we enjoyed the sun so long yesterday we forgot to do homework...until bedtime. We get every bug. Heck, we probably start the trend. I focus more on not eating boogers now rather than sanitizing the buggy, and well, breakfast is as balanced as a doughnut and banana. Or just a doughnut.

2. My kids will not be wearing the 2012 boutique brand. I'm so over it. Now, please, people, understand...I'm not judging you if you dress your kids this way. But, seriously, when a child comes to  you with nearly nothing...nothing...and underwear 2 sizes too small...it. changes. you.

I will still dress my kids nicely. But nice doesn't have to break the bank account.

For example, I found the cutest things at Target for the boys the other day...even little ties for $4!!! {Dearest Target, I'd've paid more}

And please don't get me started on the toys. Oh, the toys.

See, I've just smothered my biological children in stuff. Stuff. Things that will one day be worth .10 at a yard sale, donated, or trashed. Invaluable stuff. And frankly, I am sick of my sin.

3. These kids don't need me. If I were to call DSS today and say I can't take these children anymore, they'd find someone who can. No, really. They would. Now, don't get me wrong, some people do it for the wrong reasons and they do need good homes with people who feel called. But really? They don't need me. They need the Holy Spirit who lives inside me.

I will disappoint. I will parent out of anger and frustration. I will want to send them to bed at 4:11 some days. I will want to throw my hands in the air and say, "enough" and give up.

But the Holy Spirit will continue to work in me and through me despite me.

See, there's a difference in helping a child in the name of Jesus and helping a child.

The difference?

I'm not the hero. Jesus is.

I can feed and clothe and house and bathe a child, but I can't heal the heart.

"Dear one, it is not the shoes and skin and hair and food you need to devote the most energy toward: It is their heart. No matter what age your child comes to you, abandonment runs deep and the wounds are severe. Broken biological attachment breaks something in our children, and it is the work of the heavens to fuse it back together."~Jen Hatmaker

I can't fix them.

But through prayer...and begging the Savior to give me the love only He can provide them, I'm certain...He can. My trust isn't in what I can accomplish. Oh, it used to be. But then reality smacked me square in the face with a Buzz Lightyear toy. And it hurt...the pride in me.  Because I want to be good enough. I want to accomplish it all for me Him.

So, at the end of the day, my hope is they feel love. They accept love. They know love. The kind that only comes from Him.

don't be afraid

Storms. They can grip the heart in fear.

For him, it's been the weather storm that occured over the weekend. Nothing major on the surface. No power outages here or tv blaring any news of unsafe issues. It was just the soft rumble of the thunder that threw his body into fight or flight mode.

And it's been that way ever since. The spitting, the kicking, the punching, the screaming, the defiance, the cries of "I'm afraid", the throwing, the constant asking about the storm that no longer exists outside but is raging strong in his mind...they've continued for an entire week.

I see the cause of the violent outbursts and defiance, and while that helps us cope, it doesn't dissipate the reality of the difficulties we're facing. You see, whether it's his disability or his past that has gripped his heart in fear, the reality is that, in this second, neither cause makes a difference in what we're living in.

And I felt myself going there, to my own storm of fear.

It's not safe for me to even go to the bathroom, because what if he...

Oh, what if it storms again...it can't storm again...

I can't do this, God...I'm weary...

And so I called out to God and to my friends that I knew would pray and encourage. And I remembered...

Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. — Isaiah 41:10, NIV

Fear, it doesn't come from God.

And, while I can't help him understand that this feeling that grips him tight is a nothing but a lie, I can remind myself. 

Don't trust in this feeling of fear. Trust in the God who overcomes.

We're doing outward things like compression shirts that can help him feel safer, making a weighted blanket that will help, and medication...but we realize our battle is deeper than any shirt or blanket or pill can fix. 

"Dear one, it is not the shoes and skin and hair and food you need to devote the most energy toward: It is their heart...runs deep and the wounds are severe...and it is the work of the heavens to fuse it back together."~Jen Hatmaker

So now, I get on my knees, I look him square in the eyes throughout the day, and I tell him...

You are safe. You don't need to be afraid. God is protecting you.

And I pray. I pray for them all. Out loud. Not out loud. While I hold them. While I'm in the car and can't hold them. 

What storm is raging in your life today? Will you listen to this and choose to trust in Him today regardless?

 

mah man

Honey quietly sneaks out of bed and I hear why. The littlest culprit needs comfort...again. He settled quickly once his daddy was at his side. I hear him rattle the ibuprofen bottle and I know he has a headache. Honey quietly settles back in bed and, before we know it, the alarm sounds. He hits it once or twice but then he crawls out from under the covers and I hear the shower water.

I ask him, "why didn't you wake me and let me get up with him?"

And he says it again..."because that's not your job. It's mine."

He's out the door by 6:15.

He has 122 employees. Even when he's not at the office, he's taking phone calls and emails and addressing issues. But his motto?

Leave it at work...all the stress of the day. And he does. Sure, he'll occasionally talk to me about things but never...and I mean never...in a complaining way.

And when he comes home? He's ready to take daddy duty because he's actually taking husband duty...allowing me to get away from the stress I've had from my day.

I think it all the time and I say it often, but never often enough.

I'm blessed, ya'll.

Abundantly, richly, immensely blessed.

And I know it.

So, as my Honey turns another year older today...and may be 3 digits ahead of me for another month and 6 days {but who's counting?}, I just want to shout it loud to him for everyone to hear...

I love you. And I am so proud of the man you are. I trust you and the decisions you make for our family. I am so blessed to be the wife of a man who puts his wife as a priority...but even more than that...a man who puts His God as a priority. You're a man who leads and encourages and makes me laugh and protects and is strong for us.

And I thank God for you today...and everyday.

Happy birthday, Honey.

the comedian at our house

Cinnamon muffins. Just the look of them did Minkle in this morning. Yes, the dreaded stomach virus has hit my little man. Poor guy couldn't catch a break this morning but we've entered a strange calm. I'm not holding my breath. Why?

Because the littlest man of all...Winkle?

"You threw up? Let me see it."

"No! Do NOT get near him or his throw up, do you understand me? He's sick and you don't want to get sick and throw up, do you?"

"Yes."

"No you don't. Trust me."

And he doesn't, because we repeat this conversation over every episode.

Who knew throw up could be such a conversation piece. And so appealing to the mind of a 3 year old.

And the other night?

Minkle fell asleep on the couch. We observe Winkle...

"Whatchya doin'?" as he stares at Minkle.

He then inserts his finger in Minkle's mouth to make it move like a puppet and repeats, "Nothin'."

And he repeats it over and over. It's no secret, he amuses himself.

I'm expecting phone calls from the teacher when he enters school. Possibly daily.

I suffer from depraved indifference...but I'm willing God

I am the child...

I found this poem and fell in love with it. Maybe you know a child like this? Will you remember...

The Misunderstood Child

By

Kathy Winters

I am the child that looks healthy and fine.

I was born with ten fingers and toes.

But something is different,somewhere in my mind,

And what it is, nobody knows.

I am the child that struggles in school,

Though they say that I'm perfectly smart.

They tell me I'm lazy-can learn if I try-

But I don't seem to know where to start.

I am the child that won't wear the clothes

Which hurt me or bother my feet.

I dread sudden noises, can't handle most smells,

And tastes-there are few foods I'll eat.

I am the child that can't catch the ball

And runs with an awkward gait.

I am the one chosen last on the team

And I cringe as I stand there and wait.

I am the child with whom no one will play-

The one that gets bullied and teased.

I try to fit in and I want to be liked,

But nothing I do seems to please.

I am the child that tantrums and freaks

Over things that seem petty and trite.

You'll never know how I panic inside,

When I'm lost in my anger and fright.

I am the child that fidgets and squirms

Though I'm told to sit still and be good.

Do you think that I choose to be out of control?

Don't you know that I would if I could?

I am the child with the broken heart

Though I act like I don't really care.

Perhaps there's a reason God made me this way-

Some message he sent me to share.

For I am the child that needs to be loved

And accepted and valued too.

I am the child that is misunderstood.

I am different-but look just like you.

'cause it won't be awkward

Have you ever been dressed up for an event, walked into a room, and realized...someone is dressed exactly like you?

Awkward! {please read this in your best high pitched head voice}

What's worse...what if they're just an acquaintance and not a true friend? You might size them up...wondering, if you're even slightly insecure, does it look better on them? You might chuckle and make a silly comment to break up the oddness of it all. You might not stay across the room from them but you certainly wouldn't sit right beside them. Because really? If you did, you'd know every conversation with someone walking by would start with the word twin. You'd have to smile through it as though that comment was so clever and that person was so funny.

Well, I promise...double pinky swear...I won't do that when I see you wearing this and I am, too.

This shirt, along with many others, can be purchased here. And the best part? Every purchase helps a child in need with food, water, and medicine!!! You can even choose to help a child from 1 of 8 countries. I'm so giddy over this.

Guess what? I won't size you up at all...well, except for your heart. I wouldn't dare stay across the room from you. Truth is, I'll probably run up to you and give you a great big hug. And, I'd totally choose to sit beside you...especially if we're just acquaintances. But I'd know...even though I don't really know you, we're probably already sisters. Sisters in Christ.