Spoiled Milk

Yesterday when I picked up my one-year old foster son from daycare. He saw his cup of milk from the morning sitting on the seat and he wanted it. He reached for it and when I didn't give it he started crying. He surely thought I was witholding something good from him -- he loves milk and milk is good. I told him it was spoiled milk and would make him sick. And he would thank me later. He did not understand what I was saying and continued crying, complete with tears. It seems sort of heartless when you look from his point of view. From mine, I'm protecting him, as is my job as his mom.

After this interaction I immediately recognized a similarity. I had just been crying to God that he hadn't answered some prayers that I had been praying. Prayers for good things and yet, He hadn't answered. I felt a pang of conviction. As if He were saying, "Katie, those things are good at the right place and time, but for you, now, they are spoiled milk." And most of the time I cry and wonder why and honestly, sometimes it is really hard to get past that.

Isaiah 55:8-9

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.

“As the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts."

We know that God doesn't always show us the why. We might never see why He didn't answer good and important prayers, but we know that ultimately His goal for us is Christlikeness. Most, if not all, of the time, we are refined more deeply through struggle. Through having to trust Him with no other option. Because we know that despite our feelings of frustration, we cannot 'figure Him out'. He is beyond our comprehension. What we do know is that He is good. That He knows how to give good gifts to us. He has and He will continue to bless us so much more than we deserve.

The Fan Club

One thing about Fostering: you make a lot of friends through the process. Not, lets hang out and watch the soccer game while baking and eating pizza... (Isn't that what everyone does?) They are more the kind that are thrown into a friendship because of an outside force. That would be baby. He definitely is a charmer and is beginning to know it and take advantage.
The case workers, the therapists, the nurses, nurse practitioner and doctor, the Ad Litem, the staff at the office where visits are held. The daycare staff. They all are friends.
I realized this yesterday when at our scheduled vaccinations, the Nurse Practitioner said she is leaving the pediatrics office. I almost cried. Seriously. Since when did I become such an emotional person?! She has known us since week one. She has graciously reassured me, answered a million questions and loved this little guy.
I think in foster care, you are the fan club president for the kids that are placed in your home. You adore them, you fight for them, you kiss them and hold them. You hope for them, you pray for them, you cry for them. You are their biggest fans. And It kind of seems like all of these support staff are a part of the fan club too, they'll happily answer questions, reply to your extra-long emails. They love this child too. They will be almost as excited by the milestones, the smiles, the slobbery kisses. And that's a beautiful part of this experience.
So if you're in this club, or another one, know that your support means a thousand times more than we can express. 

(P. S. this post is from June, but as I went back and read it today, it is still true, so I am sharing it with you all!)

The Day

Barely over two weeks from being licensed, I received a phone call for a placement at 11am on a Friday. I had received 2 calls before, but when I received this one, I just knew I would get this one.
 The placement was confirmed at 4:30. There was some confusion as to when he would come, tonight, Monday, Tuesday... So I pulled out some fabric to make a blanket. It would be the first time I'd sewed anything in years, but when he came, I wanted to have a handmade blanket that I'd made just for him. No sooner had drug out all of the sewing stuff that they called to say they would be there at 8:30. I put it all back away and then pulled out all of the baby clothes.
The case worker arrived from my agency. She started going over paperwork. Then my most wonderful sister-in-law arrived with my 8-year old niece and a football snowsuit for baby (actually a warm suit, we live in south Texas, after all!). Soon the CPS caseworker arrived with a little baby in a car seat that overwhelmed his tiny body.
We filled out some more paperwork while my SIL held the baby and oohed and aahed over him and changed his diaper which almost turned out to be disastrous. While preparing for baby I had tried to think of everything I might need. Diaper rash cream, baby bathtub, bottles, toys, brush, clothes, sheets, towels, etc. I forgot to buy wipes. Only the fourth most important item after bottles, formula and diapers. Who forgets about wipes?? And when  you need them, you NEED them. Thankfully, my caseworker in her preparation of a gift bag had included wipes. Crisis averted and I was glad to not have to make a late-night Walmart run!
The caseworkers left. My sister-in-law stayed. We talked about foster care, paperwork and babies for hours. She gave me tons of advice which helped calm my overwhelmed heart. My niece sat by the baby and rocked him while we talked. She is so patient and sweet. A while later the baby was asleep and I wondered where my niece was, she was passed out on the recliner, I was 11:30, poor girl. How lucky am I to have family to spend their Friday evening helping me. They left and I picked up the crying baby. I rocked him and wondered what I got myself into.
My mom came the next day with several outfits and toys. She held the baby and I asked her a bunch of questions. I felt so small with such a huge job. My mom is good at being a mom. She raised 13 perfectly wonderful human beings. She is kind, patient, hard-working and just a really good person. I know I am nowhere near the woman she is, but I hope that I can still do good.
I'd say I'm getting the hang of being a mom. I'm also doing ok at completing all of the paperwork. Despite the sleepless nights, the doubts, the tears, I wouldn't trade one moment of this all. This is the greatest choice I've ever made. I know I'll never regret it although I'll be heartbroken when he leaves. I also know I'll be so happy knowing that I got to have him for a while and that he was loved well while he was with me.

The Mother

And there she was. So normal looking. She was talking to her son like any mom. I wondered if, when and how this introduction would go. She actually doesn't know my name or anything about me, but I know her.
On paper.
But what is put down on paper really limits what we see of a person. Sure, we've all made mistakes, but don't we all want a second chance?
In some of my interactions, I find that some people, many times subconsiously, want the birth parents to fail so that they can adopt the child whom they love so much. In some ways, I do understand that. I adore this baby and I would love it if I was given the chance to adopt him. But more than that, I want his mom to get to be a mom.
Who wouldn't love this guy? He is... I could write a list about how wonderful he is and I will. But really those two words are the only requirements making someone worthy of love.
He is so happy, he loves to talk, he laughs when I sing crazy songs to him, he loves his toys, he's a charmer and has a way of making everyone fall for him. Every moment with him brings me a great peace; a completeness that I really can't explain.
Back to the meeting. She said hi. She talked to her child. And then before she walked to the room where she would have the supervised visit she said, "Thank you for taking such good care of my baby." I smiled and nodded.
There was a sense of affirmation in that. I don't foster because I want to be affirmed. I do it because I really believed that God put that passion on my heart and that compelled me.
When I met her, she wasn't just a name on paper anymore. She is. She is a woman. She is a mom. She could be me under any different set of circumstances. And If I was in those circumstances that she is, I would want someone to do that for me.
This is grace in the realest way that I've ever experienced.
And I think this is why we as Christians struggle to love. We only see people that are different than us on paper. But if we confronted them face to face, we would be forced into reflection that it is only grace that has us where we are. For some reason, God saw fit to place us where we are, but I don't think He meant for us to hide there.

An Introduction

I have delayed writing this post for months. I didn't and still don't know where to start. I decided to jump in and just write even though it will be imperfect.

This is a part of my story and I'm so thankful and humbled as I look back over it. God has been so good to me. 

About a year and a half ago I found myself standing before a really big life transition. One season was ending and I was struggling with what to do next. After much thinking and praying. I realized that my passion was for children. The more I read about foster care and witnessed it firsthand with my foster nieces and nephews, I realized that was it.  I wanted to not just volunteer twice a month, I wanted to be in the middle of it.
In the state of Texas there are checks to make sure the foster parents are good citizens. Agencies do their best to determine if the homes they license are made up of loving people who genuinely want to care for children who have experienced trauma as a result of abuse, neglect and rejection. If you are genuine and pass the checks, as long as you are willing, you can foster. Good news for me!
I started the training in August, got a one bedroom duplex in September. Fixed it up, took CPR and First Aid, turned in a bunch of paperwork, bought a fire extinguisher, the Fire Marshall came and did an inspection, the health department came and did an inspection, I bought a crib and my sister-in-law gave me a bunch of other baby stuff and then she and my mother overwhelmed me with baby clothes. Finally, in the end of November a nice woman came and did the home study. This is the final check and a little more in-depth. They ask a lot of questions, look at your house and really just want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into. She seemed content with the answers and me as a person--so much pressure! Then she said it would be about a week until I could be licensed. Then it was another week and another one. Finally it was the end of December and the holidays. I guess this was not going to happen in 2015.
Rewind to January of 2015. I very rarely make resolutions, but this time I did. The number one resolution was to become licensed as a foster home. And this was finally a resolution that I worked hard to see through. I sat at my kitchen table on that Thursday afternoon, December 30th and resigned myself to the fact that I would just have to keep waiting and move on. It really wasn't the end of the world, but discouraging. Miracle of miracles, my phone notified me at 6:05 that I had an email from the agency. I opened it to the wonderful words that my home has officially been licensed and that they would now call me whenever they had a possible placement for me. I cried. Overwhelmed that God had heard my prayers and in such a simple thing like allowing this to come through after hours on the last workday of the year. I had made sacrifices, spent money, energy and tears on this venture and it was finally closer to becoming a reality.