A Date.

We have a date for our two little ones to go home.

The next question I always get when/if I share that information is "how are you feeling about that?"

That is a really tough question to answer, but this week I'm starting to wrap my head around it.  It is feeling a lot like an upcoming move to a new place.

There is some excitement about what the future holds.  Overnight we will go from having a baby and a preschooler to basically having just elementary school kids (Owen is close, he's still in PreK, but he'll be 5 in January).  Scheduling around naps, visits, and therapy is suddenly done.  I'll no longer have 3 kids crammed in across the back of the minivan (praise the LORD.... having some space for a bit will be nice.  The drama there.  Argh.).  There are some behaviors that we will not miss having in our house.  One less school drop off and pick up each day.

Then there's the recognizing of all the lasts.  Just like whenever I've moved I start thinking "oh, this is my last time doing xyz."  Same thing.  Last trip to the library or playdate with a friend.  Lots of lasts.  Those come with some sadness, heavy heartedness, and maybe a little bit of heartbreak.  They've been my kids for a long time now.... even though they never fully were.

And, of course, there is some anxiety over what comes next.  I know, as an adult, I might be sad at times, but I have a level of confidence that Marty & I will get through this transition okay.  I even feel like our boys are going to be able to roll with it fairly well.  But I don't know that for sure.  I don't really know what to expect.

Then there's the baby and the captain.  I don't know how this transition will go for them.  We are adding longer visits at home to prep them.  The captain is pretty excited to live in a home with less structure and more freedom - he's quick to tell me that.  He knows his mom and dad and wants to live with them.  He also loves us and is quick to say those words and that he will miss us.

It's harder and easier for baby girl.  Easier because she doesn't have memories of what led to their removal from the home.  Potentially harder because she has lived here for a long time.  She doesn't have memories of mom and dad.  She has built a relationship with them, but it is still going to be starting fresh in some ways.

It seems easy for outsiders to want to bash the kids' parents.... but that's not fair.  Yes, they made some really bad choices that did not keep their kids safe.  They have also done a lot of work over the past 18 months to get to a place where their kids could be returned to their home.  All parents have the right to be able to raise their children, as long as they can keep them safe.  They get to have another chance.  I don't know if it will work out or not, but I hope and pray for the sake of these beautiful little kids that it will.

I guess that is all to say, there are a lot of unknowns.  Just like there are in many other areas of life.

Why are we doing this?

I went to court today.  I advocated for our sweet, beautiful, red-headed, strong willed, silly foster kids to have a plan for permanency.

I missed one of our boys field trips.  Another girl in his class reportedly told him that they are going to get married and have 5 kids.  He is going to be the baby's daddy.  Baby daddy.  Love it.

Court was fine.  I was nervous to stand up and speak before the judge.  Even though if I had met the judge at a dinner party I could have told him openly and passionately my feelings on this case. But add in the formality of a black robe, standing up with a microphone and being recorded and it seemed intimidating.

Our boys have a love/hate relationship with foster care.  Five kids is a lot. It is loud. There are things we sacrifice in order to have foster kids in our home.  Camping trips didn't happen this summer, but road trips and vacations did.

Foster care is hard.  My heart is heavy today.  There is not an easy answer.  I went to court to advocate for the kids to have a plan for permanency, but I did not go knowing or even suggesting what that plan should be.  I just know that they have been out of the home for 472 days (with us for 356 of those days).  That is a long time.  It is more than 3/4 of the baby's life.  More than 1/4 of the captain's life.

I left questioning "Why are we even doing this?"

I guess all conventional and worldly wisdom would say "no", this is not my problem.  I have enough on my plate to deal with.

These are true statements.  Marty and I are not perfect people nor perfect parents.  We have our struggles with our own kids and in our own marriage.  We have yet to find the "easy" button when it comes to any of this.  Being foster parents has pushed our lives to a different level of crazy.

But even in questioning today, I can't walk away.  I passionately can't walk away.  As in, there's a burning in my heart for these kids and the other kids out there and I can't just say "this isn't my problem".  It has to be our problem.

I had someone tell me, "there has to be someone else out there who wants these kids."  Maybe, but probably not.  Foster parents are always in short supply and they went through three homes in 3 1/2 months before coming to our home.

Are my kids missing out on parts of their childhood?  I don't know.  Maybe.  Are they learning things about the world they would not experience in our private Christian school in our middle class neighborhood?  Absolutely.  I pray they are learning compassion.  I pray they are learning about Jesus.  The Jesus I read about in the Bible doesn't stand on a street corner and preach about what other people should or should not be doing.  Jesus goes and loves the people that no one else wants to love.  He hangs out with them.  He didn't go get a job so he could go on fancy vacations to the Red Sea.  He didn't protect the ones around him from experiencing the pain of this world.  He walked right into it.

I want to protect our kids.  But I also want them to see this world around them and to realize that having a house, a job, and relative stability in life is a luxury.  This life is hard.  Maybe by doing this small, and sometimes big, thing called foster care we are making somewhat of a difference.

Hope Floats.

"Beginnings are usually scary, endings are usually sad.  But it is what is in the middle that counts.  That is when hope floats."

Back in late '90s I kept a quote journal.  This one is from the movie Hope Floats.... which I remember absolutely nothing about other than it was likely a chick flick and I think Sandra Bullock was in it.

This quote has been running through my head a lot these last few weeks in relation to foster care.

Beginnings are usually scary....

Both times children have been placed in our home, I have spent the first few nights sobbing into my pillow instead of sleeping.  That first time it was while holding 2 month old "Baby Cuteness."  I did not want another baby in my arms at that moment.  I did not know what he wanted.... I did not know his cries.... I did not know what to do.  I did not know how this would work for our family.... how long he would be in our home.... how would we do this?!?

I thought the second time around would be different.  We knew what to expect.  It was not different.  If anything, it was even more difficult.  We put 3 year old "Captain" to bed and he was terrified.  He wanted comfort that we were unable to provide.  He wanted a room he knew and a familiar face.  After his screams had stopped and we had put his baby sister to sleep also, I sobbed into my pillow again.  With similar thoughts.  What are we doing?!?! How are we going to manage two 3 year old boys.  Maybe we should not be doing this.  Maybe the people in our lives who question us are right.  This is scary and I don't know that we can do this.

Endings are usually sad.....

We hear regularly, "I could never do foster care.  I would get too attached.  I would never be able to say goodbye."  Spoiler alert.... We can't either.  Yes, we are doing it, but I regularly do not know how.

Philipians 4:13  I can do all things through 

Christ who gives me strength.  

I think and pray this verse on a daily basis.  When I'm rocking "baby girl" to sleep... the same baby girl who struggled to even let me hold her to give a bottle a couple months ago.  When "Captain" is laughing his amazing, infectious laugh.  When he is sharing heartaches that a 3 year old should not have experienced.  Each time I think, how are we going to hand them back?  And we will.  They will go back home.  

However, we aren't saying good-bye every day.  Yes, there will come an ending point when they will go back home and we will say good-bye and it will be sad.  But that is not the every day.  I can't imagine saying "no" to loving them and providing for them today because I don't want to do that hard and sad day where we say good-bye.  They are doing hard, sad things every day.  I can handle that day (and the hard days that follow) and so can my family.

But it is what is in the middle that counts.  And that is when hope floats.

Right now is when hope is floating.   The scary beginning has passed.  We are loving the two little ones in our family.  We drove them 13 hours to stay a week at the farm in Iowa.  They are loved on by our families and friends.  The tantrums, laughter, joys, sorrows, meetings, endless phone calls, paperwork and appointments that come with foster care are a normal part of our life right now.  And overall it is all working for our family.  That is not to say that it is always super easy or always my favorite, but we are doing the thing that we feel God has called us to do.  That makes it good.

Hope floats. I have hopes that the joyful times in our home will outweigh the times that are difficult and the tears that are big (mine, the kids, they all mix together some days).  I have hope that even when it is challenging, we are giving these little ones a solid start and some stability right now.  There is hope that while we are loving these kids, their mom and dad are working on the things that are currently preventing them from parenting.  They are learning how to provide a more stable life for their kids.... and there is hope that this very broken foster care system might work for these kids.  Hope.

Ephesians 3:20-21  Now to him who is able to do immeasurably 

more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever!  Amen.

There are also prayers that Jesus will do way more than I can even imagine in the lives of these children.  That in addition to knowing everything about them and having a plan for them, I pray that they are able to see Christ's love shine through us.  Especially on the days when my own love and my own strength are hard to find.  I have the same prayers for the biological and adopted kids living in our home.... they are magnified a bit for the kids that I know we only have a limited time in their lives to make an impact.  And that, my friends, is when hope floats.  (Yep, I know it is a super cheesy quote, but it is also so fitting).