I got a text last Thursday from our caseworker asking me to give her a call, I knew it wasn’t good. Two big blows. My stomach sank, my heart broke, and that intense fear that waxes and wains hit hard. I reached out to my supports, talked to different members of our team, and took every step in my control to reach the outcome that we are praying for. I keep thinking that surely things will turn around soon. We have jumped through so many hurdles, that certainly there aren’t going to be more ahead. I was wrong. Monday morning I got harder news.

I know I signed up for hard. There isn’t anything easy about being a foster parent, but this has been more than I could have imagined. Every time we have a set back it feels like it takes more and more energy to hang onto hope, hang on to the idea that I believe in a big God, who can and will do big things. The fear of losing my boys is utterly overwhelming. The possibility that my boys would ever live in an unsafe house again rips me to pieces, I literally can’t fathom it.

I have known that our justice system and child welfare system is completely broken, but I continue to be amazed at just how broken. The adults and lawmakers in our society have failed our children and watching it first hand is crushing. At this point in time, I have tied a knot and I’m just hanging on. I am reminding myself that God has seen me through darkness before and he will again. I am praying that God gives me the strength to keep going, keep fighting, and keep advocating for what my boys deserve.

This season can be difficult for a multitude of reasons. My anxiety gets a tad higher each time I pull up my calendar. Work is a bit nuts at this time of year, we are cramming in dentist/doctor/therapy appointments, add in school spirit weeks and Christmas events and mama is feeling insane. I also didn’t feel like I had enough on my plate this year, so we are adding in Holiday travel (Lord help us all).

I’ve been reminding myself to take breaths all day, but the anxiety was still filling my body. I was trying to get a bunch of stuff organized for a large work event taking place next week and both boys had looming dentist appointments in the evening. The dentist office is terrifying for my kiddos. It’s also tricky to go back and forth to support two kiddos when there is just one of me.

We survived both dentist appointments, but the hamster inside my head was still spinning furiously. Who did I need to email tomorrow? What else should I pack for the boys on the airplane? Christmas gifts still to purchase? Who can feed the cat while we are gone? I mean the thoughts were just none stop. Mix all that in with the boys asking me 1,000 questions and it was all too much. I pulled a grace card and opted for McDonald’s for dinner. Not my favorite at all, but no cooking and no dishes is always a win in my book. As we sat down and I was attempting to get the boys set up to eat, I noticed a man in the corner booth hunched over high. His hands were gently trembling and his head would nod up and down every few seconds.

I put the boys straws in their drinks, opened the numerous ketchup packets, and said ‘thank you’ over and over again in my head. For those that don’t know, I’m in recovery, and after 10+ years of being clean and sober the memories of what it used to be like get further and further away. Tonight, it was put right in front of my face and I was utterly grateful. Addiction is a terrifying, dark, and lonely place.

Tonight I needed to be reminded of what my life could have continued to look like. I needed to be reminded that the ‘stress’ and busy of this season is because my boys and I have lives full of joy and community. As I continued to glance over at the man in McDonald’s the hamster wheel came to a stop. The emails will get sent, the bags will get packed, the deadlines will be met, and the cat will be taken care of. It will all get done, it always done, and I get to be present for all of it. I get to see the smiles on my kids faces Christmas morning, I get to stare at our Christmas tree each night, and I get to be a support to family and friends. Those are all Christmas miracles and I’m eternally grateful for them.

I listen to the local Christian radio station most of the time, strange to many I know, and they have been playing a new song entitled “The God Who Stays” by Matthew West. The very first time I heard the song, the first thing that popped into my head was the boys. Read the lyrics below and I’ll explain why.

If I were You I would’ve given up on me by now
I would’ve labeled me a lost cause
Cause I feel just like a lost cause, If I were You I would’ve turned around and walked away
I would’ve labeled me beyond repair
Cause I feel like I’m beyond repair, But somehow You don’t see me like I do
Somehow You’re still here
You’re the God who stays
You’re the one who runs in my direction
When the whole world walks away
You’re the God who stands
With wide open arms
And You tell me nothing I have ever done can separate my heart
From the God who stays, I used to hide
Every time I thought I let You down
I always thought I had to earn my way
But I’m learning You don’t work that way

I started crying after I heard it for the first time. My boys are constantly seeking validation that they are not broken and are worthy of being fully loved. My job as their mom is exactly what the song describes. My job is to stay, even when it’s hard, even when their behaviors are not the easiest, and even when I don’t think I can keep going. My job is to stand there with wide open arms for hugs, for comfort, and for reminding them they are not alone. My job is to show them that they do not have to earn my love, but they are loved beyond measure no matter what.

Emulating Jesus and being a parent are both difficult tasks; however, more and more I am realizing that being a loving parent to my boys simply means to stay with them. Not just physically, though for them that is huge, but emotionally. When things get messy it’s easy to pull away from them. It’s easy to not want to hold their pain, it’s easy to want to guard my heart from being hurt. The tough part, the part that matters is staying.

I’ve been doing a lot of crying lately and I’m not a big crier, but the anxiety and fear has been utterly overwhelming. The waiting and the anticipation to get to this point has been just as hard. On top of that I don’t remember the last time I got a decent night’s sleep. Between the hamster wheel of thoughts, a kiddo coming down with a cough, and another one up with nightmares, sleep has been on the back burner. Exhaustion mixed with fear is really not a good combination.

This morning though, I woke up ready. I woke up ready to move forward, ready to have some sort of decision be made. Instead, while I was drinking my coffee and trying to get the boys ready I found out that court had been continued. I walked back in my room, slipped off the dress that I had on for court, changed into something to wear to work, and burst into tears. I have been filled with frustration, anger, but most of all utter sadness today. I had emotionally, mentally, and spiritually prepared myself as best as possible for trial today and then nothing. We now wait (again) until the end of November. Two days before Thanksgiving we will try again.

The in between is so very hard. It means that I still have vague answers to give my boys when they ask about the future. It means that the pit of fear that lives in my stomach about their safety still looms. I try and grasp onto some sense of control that I know I do not have. I am trying to trust God in a process and system that does not make sense to me, but I’m holding on by strings.

I picked up the boys a smidge early today because all I wanted to do was see their faces. We went to the park and played tag, I didn’t care that I was wearing flip flops and going down the slide in a dress, I just needed to hear their giggles, see their smiles and be reminded that I have them for today. I got to put them to bed tonight, wrap them up like burritos, give them lots of kisses and hugs, and tell them I would see them in the morning. I’ll wait as long as it takes, even though it’s hard, even though my heart doesn’t quite feel like it can handle it.

Last Fall I went from being a single, working mom to my cat Zoe to being a mom of two little boys in an instant, literally. The months of training and preparation leading up to that moment could never full have prepared me for actually being a mom to two littles with a history of chronic abuse and trauma. I had A LOT to learn, but the basics to my survival (thus far) have been:

Accept Help: Looking back I honestly would have raised the white flag of surrender months ago had it not been for the supports in my life. The thing with accepting help is that it requires me to set aside my pride and ego. I’m very independent, often times to a fault, and I want to be able to do all of the things by myself, but mamas we just weren’t meant to do so. We were meant to live in community and being in community means accepting help. A friend wants to bring you over dinner, wonderful! I would love to not have to think about a meal. Someone offers to watch your littles so you can have time to sit at Starbucks and stare off into space, amazing! Those moments will help keep you sane, literally.

Put On Your Oxygen Mask First: Really, it’s necessary for survival. There have been multiple stretches of time in the past year of fostering where I have gotten to the point of feeling completely depleted. Moments of feeling like I had absolutely nothing left in me to give. The problem was, I wasn’t filling up my own cup. Running myself empty was not helping my boys, in fact it was making things worse. I could not respond patiently and lovingly when I was hungry, exhausted, and irritated. Something needed to change. It sounds silly, but I often times need to treat myself like a flight attendant. Do I need some water? Maybe a snack? Or a blanket? Or better yet, use a lifeline. Ask some of your tribe members for help.

Stop Listening to Other People’s Advice: I am a first time parent, so multiple people (friends, acquaintances, and even strangers) have wanted to solicit all sorts of advice. The problem is, that my children are not your children. Perhaps, some basic fundamentals around care or discipline may work for a typical child, but my boys aren’t your typical 4 & 7 year old’s. I so appreciate that so many mamas just want to be helpful; however, part of being helpful is attempting to understand that all of our children are different. Foster kiddos especially have a lot of special needs that typical children raised in happy and healthy homes just don’t have. So, instead of trying to implement all of these other suggestions and then beat myself up because they aren’t working, I’ve learned to take things with a grain of salt. I’ve learned to smile, nod, thank people for caring, but then to trust my instincts, training, and professional supports.

Don’t Take Things Personally: This one is a tough one for me. I remember around the 1 or 2 week mark P was really struggling one night. He grabbed all of his clothes out of his dresser and said that he was going to go back home in the morning. In my head I was literally thinking ‘I am doing everything possible to love and care for you AND you want to go back home to a place where you were neglected and physically abused??!!’ In reality the situation had absolutely nothing to do with me. Here was this little boy who has been moved to so many different homes and has no idea what a sense of stability even feels like. Of course he wants to go home. No matter what has happened to him, he still has a longing for his mom and his home. There have been numerous other occurrences where the boys have said something that is extremely hurtful. In those moments I have to work really hard to stay calm and curious rather than say something hurtful back. They test me a lot. It makes sense. They have been hurt by some many adults that it makes sense they want to see if I’m really going to stick around – if I’m really going to continue to love them and care for them even if it’s messy.

I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting recently as we approach court next week, one day after my boys 1 year ‘gotcha day.’ It’s going to be an emotional 48 hours. I still screw up as a parent hundreds of times each day, but I’m learning more and more, mainly to give myself the same grace that I give my boys.

P’s 7th birthday is coming up on the 16th and multiple times a day we are talking about his top birthday requests, what treat he is going to take to school, and what kind of cake he wants me to bake for him. This of course leads little A to talk about his birthday, which is in February. He knows that his birthday is next but we continually have to look at the calendar and count how many months away ‘next’ actually means. He has asked me multiple questions regarding his birthday and each one is difficult for me. Not because I can barely keep track of what we are going to have for dinner let alone where we are going to have your birthday party, which is a 5 months away, but because I don’t know what our family is going to look like in 5 months. I know I have talked about this fear before, but it’s hard.

We have a really big court date coming up at the beginning of October and making large decisions before then seems like climbing up Everest. My boys keep track of and remember everything. Since continuing to build trust with them has been and continues to be my priority I try and be careful with my word choice. While I pray daily that I will be with A on his 5th birthday, at this point, we just don’t know. So often times I am left with giving my boys vague and uncertain answers. One of the hardest questions they continually ask is, “will we live with you in our house for forever?” Ugh. My answer is always the same, “I sure hope so, but we just don’t know right now.” It never feels quite adequate. I’m trying not to be paralyzed by fear over this next month. I’m clinging to my faith that reassures me that I believe in a big God who can do big things. I am advocating and pleading with our team to ensure that we are as prepared for trial as possible. I am soaking up all of the cuddles and giggles with my boys.

No matter what the outcome of court is, there is going to be sadness and grief that needs to be processed both for myself and the boys. My feelings towards my boys biological mom does not matter, because she will always be their mom. Someone that they will always love and care about, I have to respect that relationship. No matter what happens I hope that my boys know that they are loved by so many people, people who were willing to fight for them. I want them to know that they can love us both, they can love their mom and me, they will never be forced to choose.

I always hated group text messages. The constant dinging and feeling like you were being held hostage to this never ending conversation. That changed recently though when a few other foster mamas and I started one. What I use to loathe has since become a constant comfort to me.

Being a mom can feel extremely lonely. Being a single foster can sometimes feel even tougher. I am so very lucky that I have some of the best of friends that have been by my side for this adventure. Even with those supports though, there is nothing that beats someone going through exactly what you are going through. No one quite gets it like other foster parents. It’s a tough gig. Not only are we navigating the challenges of parenting, but we are also dealing with the system as a whole. While our children’s behaviors can be challenging, the real challenge is court and a rotating continuum of different case workers. Navigating the broken system is beyond frustrating. The unknowns of trials, bio parent(s) visitation, and permanency plans for our kids is taxing and heartbreaking. We have to lean on other people, it’s simply too heavy to carry alone.

Our group text messages keeps me grounded. It keeps me connected. It allows me to get out of our own mess and chaos for a bit and listen to another mama’s struggles. Before my boys I prided myself on being independent. I liked to do things by myself. Looking back over this past year there is no way I would have been able to make it without my supports. It literally would have been impossible. As moms and parents we need other people to remind us that we are doing a great job, even when we don’t feel like we are. We need others to bounce ideas off of when we can’t think clearly ourselves. We need others when at the end of a long day we realize that we haven’t spoken to an adult all day and just need someone to vent to.

I am so grateful to my ever expanding network of supports. I am grateful for the constant dinging on my phone throughout the day knowing that I have this handful of other foster moms that are available, loving, and supportive.

One of my first purchases after moving into our first house was a hanging bird feeder. I thoughtfully placed it right outside of our front window, so it can be seen from the dining room table. The first day it was placed outside not one single bird came. Ugh. It may sound ridiculous, but I was questioning why the neighborhood birds did not want to come to our house for a meal or snack. My mom, who has a lot more experience with bird feeders than myself, suggested I move it a bit further out in the yard so the little guys could see it better. Sure enough within a few minutes all of the stands on the feeder were filled with little finches and a bright red cardinal. Before long, the neighborhood brown bunnies and squirrels also learned of the new neighborhood restaurant.

It may sound a bit ridiculous, but our bird feeder is one of my favorite things about our new house and most importantly it has taught me to slow down. I’m sure most of you can relate to the constant busyness. I use to set my alarm 20 minutes before I wake up the boys and in that time I would rush to get dressed, hair done, and make up on, then throw some frozen french toast sticks in the microwave. What I realized though was that I loved seeing what birds and other little creatures where having their breakfast at our bird feeder. I needed more time. So, the alarm now gets set for 30 minutes pre-tiny human chaos. I have 10 whole minutes where I sip a cup of coffee, pet Zoe cat, and watch the birds.

I notice myself during dinner just starring out the window and watching to see if Mrs. Cardinal and Mr. Bunny Rabbit are stopping by. I love watching the finches fly to and from the bird feeder to the nearby Japanese maple tree. The boys may be complaining about having to eat peas or yelling at each other because someones foot is touching their chair (yes, this is a thing in our house. Jesus help) but watching the bird feeder I can tune out the nonsense. I can slow down. I can get outside of my head and to-do list for just a few minutes. I can pay attention to the beauty that surrounds us daily. I can make time to just sit and breath.

What little things at your home help you to slow down? What little things do you treasure?

I logically knew that becoming a foster parent was going to change my entire world; however, I don’t think I quite comprehended the amount of unpredictability and interruptions that would play a roll. My life with my boys has now become my ‘new normal,’ and my new normal is absolutely crazy. I like schedules and order, like a lot. Life with the boys is literally the exact opposite. Sure we stick to a pretty standard routine, but rarely do things go as planned.

Each month a nearby indoor trampoline park does a ‘Parent’s Night Out’ where I am able to drop the boys off for pizza and a few hours of fun. I look forward to this every month because it gives me a few hours to myself on a Saturday night. I had dropped the boys off last Saturday and was enjoying time alone to binge watch Netflix when they called me and asked me to come pick up A. He had pulled a little girl’s hair, then taken her dollar bill, and then to top it off he proceeded to eat (and swallow) it. Lord help me. At the moment I was pissed. Now, I look back at the whole situation and laugh because it is just so ridiculous, but in the moment my night had been interrupted and I was beyond in need of some time to myself.

My own personal schedule is constantly being interrupted. Phone calls from P’s school or daycare are usually not a good sign. In the past 9 months I have left work multiple times in the middle of the day to pick up A at daycare because he is being asked to leave for the day. I came into work late and left early for over a week while I searched for a new before/after school program for P after he was kicked out of one. I have sat in multiple meetings at the elementary school while P served in-school suspensions and have talked at length with school officials, day care providers, therapists and case-workers on coming up with new approaches to a kiddos struggles. Other detours take place when we are out doing what I thought would be a fun activity and a kiddo gets overwhelmed, overstimulated, and dysregulated and we simply have to leave. In hindsight, some interruptions could have easily been predicted if I thought through all the details, but that just doesn’t always happen.

The thing I have come to realize about interruptions though is that they are always going to happen. Leaving grocery carts full of food, leaving paid for events a few minutes after arrival, and babysitters that call to say they need you to come home can feel utterly defeating. Perhaps, not because of the same reason, but interruptions are just part of life, good or bad. I am learning to set aside my expectations for how things go and radically accept what actually happens. In the end, the challenges are a lot easier to get through if I allow myself to see the absurdity in things. You have to admit, eating someones money is kind of funny…

The past few weeks have kind of been a whirlwind. I was really sick for about two weeks leading up to our move and it wiped me out. Add on prepping to move and the actual move itself, it did me in. Additionally, we are getting into new routines with camp and a new school year quickly approaching. I have been going to bed exhausted and waking up just as tired. I have been reminded multiple times that the best way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time, so that’s what I’m trying to do. Just do the next right thing in front of me. In order to keep trucking though I have been praying A LOT. And my two prayers have been short and sweet, “help,” and “thank you.”

Help me God to …

be loving, patient, and tolerant with me people.

remember that I can let go of control, because you’ve got it.

remember that I have to put on my oxygen mask first.

slow down.

Thank you God …

for all of the people that you have put in my life.

for your continued mercy and grace.

for forgiveness, do-overs, and trying again.

for the extra doses of strength when I think I’m about to run out.

I have often found that long elaborate ‘fancy’ prayers don’t connect my heart to God as much as the short and honest ones. Help and thank you are going to continue to be my prayers as we embark on a new week.