I have this awful habit of making a
LOT of New Years Resolutions, which I really have no intention on keeping. When
people start lamenting about New Years goals and how lame they are, I start to
fidget in my seat. I have to fight every urge to blurt out how I've been
planning them since the 4th of July. (we can exaggerate in blogs, right?
Isn't that a thing? Like, LITERALLY. No one actually means literally when
they say literally). I know full well that these resolutions are kind of
pointless, but I genuinely hope that one morning I'll just wake up a new person
and start doing them.
Well, one of those goals was to
start blogging once a week. Bummer.
Anyway. I read something the
other day that completely slapped me in the face:
"It
is a positive crime to be weak in God's strength" -Oswald Chambers-
For the past 5 months, Noah and I
have been fostering a baby boy, who we affectionately call "Tub"
(short for Tub of Chub. of course.) We received a phone call when
he was 2 weeks old, and he was placed with us on his one month birthday! He
completely changed our world. This little boy came to us as a teeny tiny
newborn, and is now a thriving 6 month old. He is full of joy, smiles,
and the best belly laugh you can imagine. When we first got the call, I
had just sworn off foster care. I had quit emotionally. Our other 2
experiences somewhat derailed me, and I didn't know if I could do it again.
Noah was the one who received the call, and he in turn called me to talk. He
knew where I was at emotionally, so he just said to come to his office so we
could talk. I hung up the phone, frustrated, and began to lay out my
requirements to God (I'm sure he loves when I do that). I told Him that
the only way I was going to say yes was if this was a baby. I'm talking
babbbyyyyyy. Younger than 6 months old. I walked into Noah's
office, he said Tub was 2 weeks old, and I collapsed in his chair. We
both knew we had to say yes. I can't explain what it was, but this was
the 2nd time that I had "told" God that I was done, and that same day
a case came our way.
Fast forward 5 months. Tub is
in the process of being reunified with his biological family. While we
have known this possibility existed since about December, it's now becoming a
much more tangible reality. All of the emotions you would expect to
happen are happening. But this blog isn't supposed to make you feel sorry
for us.
When we were placed with K-man, I
had this feeling that he wouldn't be ours forever, but I kept asking anyway. I
will keep asking until the day he leaves that he can be ours (the caveat being
as longs as its what God wants). But lately I've been really struggling
with this idea of being joyful in the midst of pain. I keep wresting with
the lyrics "It will be my joy to say, Your will, Your way".
My prayer was/is: "God, please
let us adopt Tub. But if we can't, give me the strength to survive
this". I started noticing God giving me strength... and that made me
mad. I felt like that part of the prayer was more of a courtesy than a
genuine desire. It dawned on me that I didn't want God's strength. Quite
frankly, I wanted what I wanted... Tub. The fact that God was giving me
the ability to keep my emotions in tact, to see beyond the now, to have
revelations of his grace just made me annoyed. I turned into this little
7 year old that began to get snippy with the Lord. I basically got to the
point where my prayers turned into: "Just do what you're gonna do. You're
gonna do it anyway, so why do we need to talk about it?" Super
encouraging, right? But I meant it in a genuine way. I knew, deep
down inside, that I wanted what God wanted... I just didn't want to talk about
it with Him. Yet.
One evening I was rocking Tub to
sleep and crying. This happens often (enter laughing/crying emoji). I
was lamenting over giving him back, not seeing his chubby, sleeping face
anymore, etc. In my personal saga my mind wandered to Moses's mom... she
gave up her own little boy, only to be given him back- during the most bonding
and formative years, and then she had to give him up AGAIN. It's like a
cruel joke! I can't even imagine her internal struggle as she searched
for meaning and hope throughout this trial. And as I played her sacrifice
through my head, I was reminded of the verse in Hebrews 12:1:
"Therefore,
since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith,
let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so
easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before
us."
My world exploded. I felt
instantly encouraged and strengthened by this mother who preceded me by a
LONG, LONG time. But it took me a while (a few days ago) to realize
what weight was slowing me down.
It was my inability to accept God's strength.
I felt God ask me, "Do you actually want my strength? Do you
want to experience my goodness in this situation? Or do you want to just
keep swimming in all these feeling of sorrow and defeat. It's up to
you".
Now, I'm still human. I still
can hardly talk about Tub being reunited without being tempted to break down. But
the difference is that the temptation is no longer the immediate outcome. I'm
learning that 'joy' doesn't mean happiness. It's something I've
always known in my head, but had never quite experienced. I don't
want to feel joyful that he will be leaving us, but I DO have joy in trusting
God. Big difference.
It is
a positive crime to be weak in God's strength.
What a disservice we do to God when
we don't latch onto His strength in all situations. Whatever the
circumstance is, He is able. As a follower of Jesus, I need to live this
life differently. When strangers ask me "Isn't fostering
hard?" I say, "Heck yes. The hardest thing we've ever
done. BUT JESUS." He HAS to make a difference! If He
doesn't, then how is our life any different?
Jesus isn't taking away the situation
at hand, but He is giving strength, just like He promised. It's just up
to us what we do with it.
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