One Week Later

It has been one week since the boys were reunified. Our house is so quiet and empty. Our house doesn’t feel like our house. But God is still good.

I reached out to their mom this week. I asked if I could keep in touch with her to check in on the boys. For now, she has agreed to this. When I asked how they were doing she told me that O had been talking about me. She told me he was talking about how I had told him he was a “good boy and mommy is all better, she isn’t sick anymore”.

Guys. My heart. Those are some of the last words I said to him the morning they went to school and never came home. He remembered. I pray that he always remembers.

So now what do we do? Do we keep our home “empty” (besides baby Z) in case they come back into care? Do we wait and try to let our hearts heal? Can you even heal from loving a child through some of the hardest months of their life and then letting them go? Do we accept new placements simply based on the fact that there is such a need? (we know for a fact that at least 18 children were brought into care in the last 2 weeks alone). If we accept new placements, are we using them to try and mask our current pain?

These are questions a foster parent struggles with.

So we don’t have answers. We have given ourselves “goals” if you will. We would like to (finally) purchase and install our new living room floor (right now it’s just the subfloor). We would like to purchase a refrigerator and dishwasher for the upstairs kitchen so we can officially move upstairs and have everything on the same floor. Basically, we want to get organized (just a little bit) before bringing in a new placement. So we are currently budgeting and looking at the finances of accomplishing these goals as quickly as possible.

BUT IT IS SO HARD TO WAIT.

So this week I opened my Bible and asked God to lead me to scripture that I needed to read. My Bible fell open to John 20:19-23 where Jesus appears to the disciples. Y’all. I have never felt like I was being spoken to so clearly through scripture.

The passage starts with Jesus standing among the disciples and saying “Peace be with you”. Instantly my eyes fell to the notes at the bottom of the page. In traditional Jewish greetings, shalom, i.e. “peace be with you”, constituted an implicit prayer to God for the well-being of the person addressed. Jesus was praying for his disciples. And he is praying for me. So I kept reading.  It was only after he stated this greeting that he showed them the physical evidence of his presence- the holes in his hands and side.

How often does Jesus shower us with “peace be with you” before he reveals himself physically?

I kept reading. The parallels between my current state and the disciples at that time were overwhelming. They were in mourning. I am in mourning.  They were afraid of earthly things. I am afraid of earthly things. Jesus came to them in their mourning and fear and he has come to me too. He stood next to them. He stands next to me. He spoke to them. He is speaking to me. He prayed for their well-being. He prays for me. He brought them joy by simply being with them. He is bringing me joy with every word I type.

I kept reading. I noticed a pattern. It was only after he cared their hearts, their hurts, their fears and their doubts that he then empowered them. He empowered them to be sent out into the world to continue the mission of the Gospel.

I went to Jake and handed him my prayer journal and said: “read it”. At the bottom of the page, I had written, God is here. He is with me, He is healing the pain while removing the fear and the doubts. He is empowering me to go back out as He did. He is telling me to continue foster care, to continue the Gospel.

So we will go.