Trusting

I’ve mentioned on this blog before that certain “Mommy Instincts” have been activated in me since the first day we had kids brought to our front door.  This is, I believe, a beautiful grace that the Lord has extended to me.  I’ve not earned these instincts through pregnancy or child labor- but been granted them by a loving, gracious Father who wants to provide me every possible tool to love the vulnerable, wounded hearts placed into my care.

Bug and Buddy enjoy some time playing on the pad.

 

Sometimes I surprise myself by knowing just why the baby is suddenly crying- identifying the cause and soothing his pain.  I’ve just begun to trust these “knowings” and feelings I have.  And then when an application is made,  I wear each solved-problem like a badge of honor-proud to use this knowing to soothe a hurt or prevent an argument or remain wide awake at night, knowing in my bones that one of my lambs is about to awaken.

 

Buddy reading to his best friend, Yoda.  Frankie is unimpressed.

Since the boys aren’t “ours” by any legal standards, they are still subject to the rulings of their social workers.  Today they’ll be picked up by a man who works for the foster agency they come from, driven for one hour to a different city, handed over to their grandparents, aunt and uncle for a visit, picked up again by the same strange man who we don’t know, and driven back to our home in time for a late dinner and a late bath and bed. 

 

Saturday Painting

 This type of occurrence is nothing rare at all in the scope of the life of a foster child or foster parent- but my instincts as a mother, as lovely as they are, did not come with an off switch.  Knowing that my babies will have their schedules interrupted to return to a place wrought with memories (some good, some bad) and will be accompanied to and from this outing by a stranger unsettles me.  It sets me on high-alert, ready to pounce and to protect- but I cannot.  According  to the state of Kansas this isn’t my responsibility right now.  To another foster parent I fear that I might sound melodramatic, but my aim is to remember what this feels like and to communicate the experience to others.   

Bug, giving goodbye kisses to Yoda.

While days like today are difficult, I thank God that Grant and I are required to trust God.  We have no choice.  Well, I suppose we could not trust him and develop ulcers and gnaw off our own fingers before the day ‘s end.  Oh what a challenge to trust-to breathe and resume the day’s tasks free of anxiety!  I’m thankful to have this experience and a chance to document it- because one day if/when we have kids who are made “ours” legally or biologically, I don’t want to forget that no child(ren) are “ours”, but a gracious gift entrusted to us by the Lord to love and protect and instill with the truth of His gospel. 

 

Bathtime with Daddy