learning to be brave

I want to be brave. I just don’t want to be brave sometime in the future. But I want to be brave right now in this moment and with every aspect of my life.

Maybe that statement is odd to you. After all, I am foster mom. Bravery is a part of my nature and blood. Except that it’s not.

When we started fostering, I believed I was brave. And it’s possible in that moment – the moment I said yes and accepted the placements we’ve had – I was brave. Except that bravery centered around my abilities and my strengths. The second things got difficult, and I questioned if I was even cut out for foster care, all of that bravery disappeared.

It’s a conversation Justin and I have had several times. He’s noticed this trend in my life and our relationship. I become sure about one thing and then convince him to join in. Then, when things get hard for me, I am immediately ready to throw in the towel and give up. He, on the other hand, is just then realizing that we are where we are supposed to.

I guess it’s a good thing we haven’t always been on the same page. I cannot begin to imagine what life might look like if we had just given up and given in to the feelings of failure.

Recently, I’ve been praying for bravery. I’ve been resting in Jesus and his bravery because I know my bravery (just like everything else that is mine) will fail daily. I also have joined a new movement – a community of women learning how to live bravely – called #fireworkpeople. And they also help me to want to be brave.

Even with praying for bravery, I’ve been hiding a lot. Thoughts pop into my head, and I commence writing an entire post all in my head. Within minutes of putting fingers to the keyboard, the post all but disappears and immense fear takes over. I can’t write this. I can’t share my heart. I could never express foster care the way it deserves to be discussed and described. And what about confidentiality?

Some of the fears are warranted. I want to be extremely careful with confidentiality. I never want to place myself, the littles, or my husband in a place where I have said too much or been too explicit about any one aspect of our lives.

Some of the fears are ridiculous. They are simply a way to remain hidden and to keep others out of the loop in somewhat grasping foster care and how to work through fears with foster care.

I’ve been open about the fact that foster care was much more difficult than I expected. I’ve shared some of the milestones – like making it 100 days with three toddlers in our home. We have another milestone coming up. 365 days of parenting three toddlers.

Many people ask how we are going to celebrate. And that word celebrate absolutely destroys my heart. Because I can’t celebrate the past 365 days.

Please don’t misunderstand. I’m grateful for the past 365 days. They have been the most fulfilling, difficult, beautiful, and messy days of my life. As difficult as the transition to motherhood has been for me, it has shaped me into a person I am much more proud to be.

That’s not to say that I don’t still struggle. I do. I struggle with immense guilt. I struggle with thoughts of never being enough. I struggle with the balance of work, school, marriage, kids, and not losing myself in the process. Every day brings some type of struggle. But almost every day brings some beauty with it. I say almost every day because, let’s be honest, sometimes it feels impossible to find anything good and all you do is count down to when the next day will start.

One of my struggles right now is how much loss there is with foster care. Foster care itself begins with loss – the loss of the child’s family, the loss of safety before the child comes into custody, the loss of stability, the loss of knowing what to expect (even if it’s harmful and scary). I simply can’t celebrate that much loss.

There’s another woman out there who is also a mother to the littles in the home. The relationship I have with her is a difficult one. It’s not about if we talk or how much we talk. The difficulty resides inside my head as I grieve her lack of presence in the little’s life. I also grieve that she isn’t able to experience the beautiful moments – like a one-on-one date with one of the boys and ended with us holding hands while watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

A part of me still wants them to be able to go home. Because I know how difficult it will be for them to never again be a part of a biological family. And then a part of me is utterly terrified of the day they might leave.

The littles don’t belong to me. No child belongs to their parents, but especially within the context of foster care when I am sometimes nothing more than a place holder.

So as we approach 365 days of fostering and parenting three toddlers I am aware of the pain in my heart that may never recover if I do have to say goodbye. I am also aware of the fear I have with possibly not knowing what will happen to the littles should they leave my home and my house.  But I can’t remain in my fear. If I did, I would not be able to move forward, and if I remained in my fear, it would hurt the littles.

Foster care is not the child’s fault. No child wants to go through the trauma of abuse and/or neglect and then also the trauma of removal from the home and then movement through a volatile system. And yet the children pay the utmost price. A price that increases when adults and foster parents hide in their fear of what it would be like if they had to say goodbye to littles after caring for them for any length of time.

I don’t think I can say goodbye. But I know I may have too. That’s where Jesus’ bravery comes into play. He is so much stronger and able than I am. And if goodbye is what is said, then He will see me through, my husband through, our families through, the littles through, and the littles biological family through.

I type that all out, and again it seems like I am brave. That I’m almost superhuman. And yet my lip quivers and tears flood my eyes. Because I don’t really want to walk out this life of uncertainty and potential farewells. I also don’t really want to be so closely aligned to hurts and heartbreaks. Yet here I am.

I can’t hide from foster care. I tried for a few months. I remained distant. Instead of opening my heart as wide as it could, I let my care by minimal and hid behind graduate school and work. Something happened, and all of a sudden love burst and I couldn’t pretend to not really care about the littles. The moment that happened I felt every single thing.

Holidays are hard. Because I love these littles but my heart breaks for the families they aren’t able to celebrate with. I do what I can and involve the littles in whatever ways I can. This involvement, I feel, honors the littles and their history.

I think that’s how I see the 365 day mark. It’s not a moment to ignore. It’s a moment to honor because the littles deserve to know they are cared for and important. And by honoring them, I don’t celebrate the loss. Instead I acknowledge it and do my best to ensure that the littles know they are more than just this loss. Yes, they are in foster care. But they are also silly, stubborn, adorable, strong willed, and intelligent. That deserves honor as well.

I guess that’s what being brave is right now. The kind of brave I can only be with Jesus. The kind of brave that puts my heart on the line and welcomes inevitable heartbreak for the betterment of three toddlers.

Not for the Faint of Heart

Life is not for the faint of heart. It's just not. At least life the way I want to live it, the way I feel called and compelled to live it, is not for the faint of heart.

Photograph by AW Photography

Of course there's a portion of me, bigger than I want to admit, that craves comfort. I want the job with every benefit imaginable. I don't want to experience other's pain and struggles daily. I want to come home and spend hours reading or watching TV, in my pajama's, and eat as much ice cream as is humanly possible without gaining a pound.

I want the newest iPhone. I want a closet full of shoes and bags and to live in an exotic city (read: not Oklahoma City). I want to travel and write and be asked to travel and write. I long to be known. Not in a personal way but in a way that I am recognized and that recognition fills my bank account until it overflows.

But when I am quiet, when I distance myself from the world, there's a stirring and longing in my heard to live life the way Jesus would have me. And that sort of life is not for the faint of heart.

I waiver on my heart's status nearly every day. Sometimes multiple times throughout the day. I spend time with Jesus in the morning (second week in a row of starting my day off with the Bible, which is a record) and rest in His presence.

But then I am rushing to dress three littles, play or read books for a few minutes, make getting into the car seats fun (which it never is), have a dance and sing along in the car (current faves: Shake It Off by Taylor Swift and Let It Go), unbuckle three littles and manage to get them all into their classrooms.

After that, there's work, email, grad school, practicum, and a million other items. Sometimes I seek Jesus out. More often, he is a passing thought. More often I'm concerned with not having an iPhone 6, not being thin enough, how much coffee I need to make it through the day, and reading emails while sitting at a red light.

It has to stop. At some point and preferably before I leave this earth and enter into heaven.

Photograph by AW Photography

The stirring and longing on my heart is there for a reason. I have gifts and talents. I have a purpose. I have a life that Jesus needs me to lead. Though I don't quite understand how or why, I have been placed exactly here and exactly at this moment. I have been called into a place where there are no borders, where I am overwhelmed on a daily basis and aware of my lack of strength, where I have no choice but to fully trust and rely on him.

When I listened to Oceans today on the way to work, the words slammed into me and the tears poured out of me. I so badly want to be in control of my life. I so desperately want to plan for everything that could happen and account for it all. And while I know that God has blessed me with forthsight and the ability to fight for the voiceless, I am not God. I am only me, the tiniest drop in the ocean, and I have to remember that God is bigger than any of my plans, any of my fights, and any impact I could have (or would have/should have/have had) on another's life.

Two Weeks In

This Thursday, October 31st, marks two weeks since our worlds were turned upside down by three children ages 3, 2 and 1.

Some things we knew to expect. Other things we had no idea. All of it has been more than worth it.

We have been blessed by our community, blessed by friends, blessed by family, and wrapped in a sort of love that words simply can not explain. There have been dinners provided, free babysitting, clothing donated, diapers delivered, car seats installed, and gift cards/money received. The prayers have been felt and continue to be felt and needed.

In the past two weeks, we've ventured out to Chik-Fil-A and the park as a family of five. I have managed to get all three littles dressed and to school (by myself) by 8:30am. Justin has managed to get all three little to sleep by himself; he has also managed to pick up all three littles from school (by himself) and has ventured out to the McDonald's PlayPlace with only the three littles. Clearly, he is the braver of the two of us.

We constantly (or maybe I just constantly) find ourselves wondering how we can keep this up. Three littles, two dogs, two full-time working adults, and one part-time graduate student. And yet... Here we are.

We made the decision, before these three walked into our house, that we would be committed. To them and to the plan that DHS decides to pursue. When asked how long we will have these three, our answer is silly but honest "a few months to forever."

And really, it could be just a few weeks. There's simply no knowing. This is both comforting and terrifying.

At the end of the day, it's not up to Justin nor I to save these three. It's not up to any foster parent to save any child. All we can do is stand in the gap and love the children in foster care with a fierceness that stays with them long after they leave our homes - even if they don't quite understand that love or remember our names or faces.

Our three littles, Baby T, Little C and Little A, were apprehensive (at best) when they first walked through our doors. Their eyes were wide, and it was evident that they didn't know exactly who we were or what was happening. Justin and I decided to call one another by our first name's when talking to the littles and talking about one another to the littles. They, however, decided we were Mama and Daddy.

All three have come out of their shells in the less than two weeks we've known them and loved them. We've discovered Little A loves to dance. She only falls asleep after I tell her a story and pray with her. She asks where I am if Justin picks them up at daycare without me. She will try any vegetable but spits out anything that isn't corn (and also picks through her food when I hide vegetables in it - like spinach in spaghetti and peas in macaroni and cheese).

Little C got sick over the weekend with a double ear infection. He is the most sensitive of the three, so we're trying to tailor our parenting to better meet his needs. He likes to fall asleep with someone stroking his hair (or his face). His favorite food is strawberry yogurt and he will lick the container empty.

Baby T is just now 18 months. He is still crawling though he will take the occasional step so long as he thinks no one is watching. His favorite thing to do is play with the remote controls and mess up whatever Little A is watching and also to crawl up and down the stairs. He also likes to "race" me up the stairs at night. He will eat just about anything, but he loves to feed the majority of his food to our dogs.

The past {almost} two weeks have been anything but perfect. I constantly feel as though I'm in over my head. I question every parenting decision, every conversation, and even the outfit choices. I wonder about the birth parents and how they're handling all this transition. I pray multiple times throughout the day.

It would be easy to walk away. Easy in the sense that life could return to normal. I could study whenever I wanted. It would be no problem to simply run out for dinner or for ice cream or for coffee. We could enjoy date nights throughout the week.

But the thing is, even with as stressful as this all can be, the last thing I want to do is walk away.

I have a lot of peace about our decision to foster these three. Justin regularly remarks how this all feels as though it was meant to be, and I have to agree. We're not looking too far into the future and are instead enjoying now and enjoying the stability we can provide for Baby T, Little A and Little C.

Jumping Back Into Foster Care

I stumbled across the Mother Theresa quote pictured above a few days ago, and it resonated with me. The words reminded me of how important it is for us all to live missionally and reach out to others. Then, I listened to a sermon regarding the purpose of life by Jen Hatmaker on Sunday morning, and it hit me in a way I needed. Both Mother Theresa's and Jen Hatmaker's words were a reminder that we are created to do things - not to just think about what we should do or to find our calling in work and home life. But instead we find our calling in Jesus and then we go do.

On Sunday evening, I sent an email to our foster care worker and explained that we were ready to open our home back up. We requested one child but said we could consider two children under the right circumstances.

The call came Monday morning - not even a full twenty-four hours since our re-commitment to foster care. There were three children - all under the age of three. And then the question "would we consider taking them?"

I wanted to say no. But I also found myself wanting to say yes. Sometimes you have moments of clarity and all of sudden you just know this is an adventure you are supposed to take. This was one of those moments. I explained that we would likely be open to two children but that I wasn't sure about three. I said I would talk to my husband and see what I could discover about child care.

And then I took to Facebook. Within minutes, I was flooded with tangible support from friends. Offers to help clean, offers to cook, questions of what do we need, and I knew we couldn't say no. I also found a daycare, within minutes of our house, willing to take all three children. It took a few more hours for my husband to call back, and when he did, he said he also felt like he couldn't say no.

So we said yes.

The children are supposed to be placed on Thursday evening. We still don't quite have everything we need. Some items we had before have gone missing, and we are trying to replace those while also trying to acquire more big ticket items - like a toddler bed, a dresser and changing table combo, car seats and a glider/rocking chair. And then there are the items we will need lots and lots of - diapers, food, bottles, formula, milk.

It's not the children being placed with us that is overwhelming me. It's the money and the things. It's all the questions of how are going to afford this or that. I understand the concept of God giving me (and us) the strength to do all things, but I struggle to grasp the concept of Him also providing in other ways.

So I'm leaning into Him. I'm praying for wisdom. And I'm just praying - period. Because this journey we're taking is not one to be entered into lightly. This journey is not one that makes any sense. And this journey is one we wouldn't have picked for ourselves. God, though, has picked it for us.

We wouldn't be taking this all on if it weren't for the friendships we've been blessed with. In the past 10 months, we've grown close to so many and found true community with some of the most generous and caring people. We've also received grace and offers of assistance from friends of the old. And we've been overwhelmed - knowing that God's hand is truly on this adventure.

Neither Justin nor I like to ask for help. We'll gladly take it but reaching out and saying "hey we need THIS" is not something we're particularly good at. Our pride is being left out in the cold now, and we are actively seeking help. Just last night, Justin said he doesn't feel guilty asking for help now - not like we have in the past - because this is an instance in which we'll need more help than we could ever even ask for.

The 7 Challenge - Day Eleven {Food}

Today is the eleventh day of the 7 Challenge and the twelfth day of The Nester's 31 Day Challenge. I consider writing each and every single day, but words continue to fail me. It seems I am going through an identity crisis of sorts with writing and with blogging.

You would think that after so many years of writing and of blogging (or at least keeping an online journal of sorts) this wouldn't happen. But what I'm learning and discovering through my own personal mutiny against excess is that there is nothing that I can do to feel prepared for every single life situation. I also am learning that I will never be done growing or changing or learning who I am.

Life is rather settled right now. My husband and I are enjoying our house. We're spending time together, and time apart, and searching both of ourselves. We're both realizing that life needs meaning. Not a meaning that comes from anything I could do or that he could do. But a meaning that comes from a God who loves us enough to bring discomfort to our lives and loves us enough to go after all the heart issues that we like to hide from.

There was a time when I craved settled. When all I wanted was to come to a point in my life where everything was going well, where I didn't have to worry about the future, where I was able to simply breathe and live my life.

Now? I'm craving change. But I don't want just any change. I want the change, the adventure, that God is calling me to.

The problem is that I don't exactly know what the change and adventure is. And I'm hesitant to dip my toe into just any change or adventure for fear of getting hurt and for fear of chasing after the wrong thing.

I'll never really know what the change and adventure is that God has for me, though, if I continue to reside in my settled life. If I simply wait for clear direction, the kind that lends absolute certainty to what my next steps should be, I'll live the rest of my life being settled, safe, and not truly learning what God has in store for me.

It comes out in a million little ways. School. Discovering my calling in social work. Foster care. Adoption. Even weight loss.

All of these things I first did because I wanted to do them. But there's no point in any of these things without first looking to God.

I want to work hard at school to bring glory to Him. I want to work in the world and provide a light of any kind to the people I come into contact with. I want to draw my strength to foster from Him. I want the stories of our adoptions (and oh how I am ready to adopt sweet babies) to reflect His story of adoption. Because adoption is not just about the baby but it's about every individual involved.

And weight loss? It's not so I can look a certain way but so that I am healthy and can carry out His calling on my life for as many more days as He might give me.

7 is a stepping stone. An annoying one at times but a stepping stone still. It's the first, and only, time I've truly sought God in a tangible way. A tangible way in which I'm living out my faith every single second of the day.

Six years ago, as an almost college senior, I traveled to China and needed to depend on God there, but in a way, that was easier. I was out of my comfort zone. I was forced into a new land where I was a foreigner. I needed God to make it through that. I didn't have any comforts to fall back on or any luxuries to seek out. I had an uncomfortable bed, clothes that I left in Beijing due to being stretched out, and no way to escape.

But here? I have a comfortable bed, Amazon Prime, a shopping mall, and the list goes on. I simply can not turn to those things; I have to turn to God. I need His strength to keep me from turning to those things. I need His strength to guide me through the next several days as I continue to eat foods I'm struggling to like.

I'm thankful for this journey. A little frustrated and wishing I had ice cream or cheese listed on my 7 foods. But knowing that God is breaking me apart and piecing me back together in the ways he sees fit, make the frustration disappear and remind me it's better to eat the 7 foods I've chosen then to try and finagle my way out of this mutiny.

Does God have you on a journey? The answer is yes - even if you don't know exactly what the journey is. Lean into Him. Listen to His voice. Bid adieu to all distractions. And trust that, even though it's difficult and even though it may not make complete sense, everything will have a purpose.

The more we lean into Him, the more we give to Him, the more He will lean into us and give to us.

The 7 Challenge - Day Six {Food}

On Saturday morning, we attended an equipping. In attendance were other community group leaders and individuals who serve our church (and the other two {soon to be three} congregations). Shelley Giglio spoke, alongside two other women who attend and serve at Passion City Church in Atlanta.

Going into the meeting/equipping, I had no idea who Shelley Giglio was. I knew of the Passion movement but knew nothing about the people behind it. I'd heard of Passion Church but again knew nothing about the behind-the-scenes. I also considered not attending. I thought of reasons not to go. But there was something (and someone.. {ahem, Justin}) who reminded me that I should go.

I was so blessed on Saturday morning. I was also greatly convicted. And I left with a sense of continued desire - a desire to do more and be more than I have been. It's the same desire God has been stirring up in me for the past several months. It's the same desire that has pushed my heart and my life into the throws of foster care and adoption.

Listening to Shelley and the others speak awakened a love for people. I've always loved people, but I've also been hardened through my time in social work. It's so easy to just see the bad, to only expect the worst, and to feel like you know exactly what will happen.

Justin and I left Saturday knowing we didn't want to play it safe any longer but that we weren't quite sure what that meant. It's something we will be wrestling with all week. How do we make sure that we aren't taking on too much? Is there a point where it's okay to say "no" and what is that point?

When I went to bed last night, I did so praying. I wanted to hear from the Lord. I wanted clarity as to what we were to do, and I wanted it in an obviously large way.

I didn't get that clarity. At least not in a way of a booming voice telling me exactly which path to follow. Instead, I received a sense of thankfulness when I woke up this morning and sat down to breakfast - eggs with tomatoes and chicken breakfast sausage (and coffee).

So many weeks have been spent rushing around and rushing through a drive thru. Our normal Sunday mornings involve rolling out of bed 30 minutes before we have to be out the door for church, stopping at Panera Bread, and eating a bagel smeared with cream cheese (the smearing done while sitting in the parking lot). We call it a tradition. I'm not sure it's quite that, though.

Panera Bread was, in the not so distant past, one of the six or seven times we would eat out on weekends. We ate out a total of three times this weekend. A little gluttonous while participating in The 7 Challenge? Perhaps. (PS: I did stick to the 7 friendly foods. My own "council" and I decided fried sweet potatoes counted so I consumed a lo of those and a few chicken sandwiches.) And the eating out from this weekend? It was really the first of any eating out for the (short) life of this challenge. There was a time when we would eat out nearly every day of the week. For me, that included breakfast and lunch, too.

We got into a rut. Or a routine. However you want to view it. That rut and routine (and an expensive one at that) involved questions like "What do you want to do for dinner?" and "Should we eat what we have or go out?" More often than not, we'd choose a dinner out even though our fridge had food in it, our pantry was stocked, and the freezer was overflowing. Maybe it was the convenience of it all. Or maybe (most likely) it was the need to somehow find worth, meaning, and identity in the act of leaving the house and going to a restaurant.

I liked getting up over an hour before church today. I had a chance to wash dishes, wipe down the countertops, cooks my breakfast, and sit in silence. I enjoyed my food and enjoyed my coffee and enjoyed what God is doing and teaching me through this time.

I also liked eating dinner at home Saturday night and tonight. I loved that we sat down at the dining room table and enjoyed our food. I love that we're breaking the rut of rushing through a drive thru and eating fried food while sitting on the couch. I love that I have to be intentional about what I eat and cook - that my first instinct is now to go to the refrigerator versus the question of "What do you want to do for dinner?"

We've found a love for sweet potatoes, chicken and spinach. Strange to say it, but when you spend so many meals wondering what to eat and always wanting something "different", it's hard to imagine liking simple foods. But we do. We're just hoping we don't completely dislike these simple foods come November. (The dogs are also enjoying the scraps of sweet potatoes someone {not me} is feeding them under the table and right before the dishes are rinsed and dropped into the dishwasher.)

Today is only day six. There are twenty-five more days. And then there's the next month. If God has already refreshed me and taught me so much, I am at a loss for what the next days and months will hold.

The 7 Challenge - Day Five {Food}

I don't quite know how to explain the "why" behind the 7 challenge. So when people ask me, I stumble over my words.

It's this thing. And it lasts for like 7 months. We're on month 1, and we're just eating 7 foods. Then we'll have one month where we just wear 7 articles of clothing.

It is those things, but it is also so much more.

God has been wrecking me the past few weeks. He's tearing away everything I find (or have found) my identity in. And He's begging me to look to Him for my identity. He's calling me to a life of more. Not a life of more stuff or more food, but a life of more meaning. A life of purpose. A life lived out for Him, a life lived following Him, a life lived with purpose and intention.

I don't know exactly what it looks like. Just like I don't quite know how to explain the "why" behind the challenge. I'm constantly stumbling over my words and stumbling over the works. I'm messing up, asking for grace, receiving that grace, and learning how to live the rest of my life out knowing I've been (repeatedly) touched by grace.

I don't think the 7 Challenge will solve everything. But I do feel like I am gaining more clarity.

The more I strip away the more I can hear Him. The more I stop seeking my identity in things the more I can be lead by Him (and by my husband). The more I pray the more I can take the steps He would have me to take.

Right now, I'm getting there one avocado, one apple at a time. Next month, I'll get there one pair of jeans, one cardigan at a time (and laundry multiple times a week). Then, I'll get there by saying no to the need to spend money in more than 7 places.

Every step of the way, Jesus will be there, guiding me and teaching me how to let the "right things" die.

The 7 Challenge - Day Four {Food}

I thought the 7 Challenge was going to be easy. Not to put Jen Hatmaker down or anything (because her book made it obvious that it wasn't easy). For whatever reason, I decided it was going to be easy.

Not easy as in I could do this every day. But easy in the sense that I wouldn't have to stretch myself too far. There would be some hard days but overall I would feel accomplished. I would overcome. I would succeed at the 7 Challenge without breaking a sweat.

Y'all, it is only Day 4 and already I am wishing I were doing The 7 Experiment, not The 7 Challenge, and only eating 7 foods for one week. Because that would only be three more days. I would have a rough time surviving those three days, but it would only be three days. Instead, I have 27 more days.

27 more days, y'all. THAT'S NINE TIMES MORE THAN JUST THREE DAYS.

Clearly I'm losing it. The headaches are setting in. My stomach is a little upset over avocados every day and plain chicken. I'm missing Diet Coke something fierce. I'm having long, internal monologues over what constitutes as bread.

For example, while I was driving around the city today, I had the following conversation:
What's for lunch today? Chipotle sounds good. I could eat a burrito bowl without the rice. Even though rise and bread are similar. They're both made from a grain. And if I got brown rice, it would be like eating whole wheat bread since they're both brown. But then I couldn't get tomatoes because I said tomatoes OR bread. And I just don't think I can do chicken, tomatoes and guacamole only. Unless... Could I make lettuce look like spinach when I took a picture of it? After all, spinach and lettuce are both green leafy vegetables.

That's nuts. Rather than deal with any guilt about what I might eat at a restaurant, or have to physically restrain myself from ordering a Diet Coke, I proceeded to drive home and ate a lovely chicken breast with smashed avocado on top of it.

It was delicious. Or at least that's the story I'm sticking to.

Oh how I wish I could say that this is the first time I've ever incorrectly assumed something would be easy. But it's not. Rather it's been a running theme in my life for the past few years.

I thought weight loss would be easy.

I thought recovering from knee surgery would be easy.

I thought, having been a social worker for 5+ years, that foster parenting would be easy.

Those things have been and continue to be difficult. And I've tried everything I can think of to take the easy way out.

With weight loss, I've tried South Beach, I've tried Weight Watchers, I've tried Herbalife. And nothing's worked. It's not that anything is wrong with those programs. I've just tried to make them into something they're not.

About a week before the 7 Challenge started, my loving husband came to me and said he was concerned. He has watched me try and fail and then sometimes try again (and sometimes not try again). He knows my heart. He knows me.

I ignored him and told him this time it was different. That the 7 Challenge was not about weight loss. It was about Jesus.

I am eating my words now, y'all. That's probably the only reason I'm not switching to The 7 Experiment versus The 7 Challenge. It's probably the one thing that stopped my internal monologue today and guided me home for lunch.

There's no way I will make it through this next month if I lean only on myself or try to just white knuckle it. And I have to stop looking forward at the months to come and instead focus on the month of right now.

I can apply that to my entire life, really.

Nothing is going to be "easy" but the hard work will be well worth it. Jesus is much better than my own strength (and much, much stronger) so it's better to depend on Him. And I am here right now. It's time to enjoy the right now and not just think about the what next.

The 7 Challenge - Day Three {Food} + What 7 is Teaching Me about Foster Care

{Please note: I wrote most of this post before I took a nap on the couch last night and then forgot to wake up until this morning.}

Can I be completely honest? I ask because there's always that part of me that doesn't feel quite right with opening up. And I ask because I need to remind myself that it's okay to be open and honest with things.

The past few months have been incredibly hard for me. I've heard it said that becoming a foster parent forces you to realize the things you both like and dislike about yourself the most. I can attest to just how true of a statement this is. And even though we're not currently fostering, we're still foster parents, and I can tell you that I continue to realize just how much there is for me to work on.

There's a huge push in Oklahoma for more foster parents. The number of children in state custody is outrageous, and there are not enough beds for any of them. Not only that but there are over 300 children simply waiting for an adoptive home, 300 children hoping someone will want them and call them theirs.

And it's good. It's good that so many want more to foster. It's good that the Church is rising up. It's good that there's talk of how non-foster parents can support those who are called to foster.

But foster care is hard. When you open up your home, you also open up your life. And not just the present moments and the future moments, but the past as well. A past that you, as the foster parent, have to have dealt with at some level. A past that has made you who you are. A past that may be vastly different, or eerily similar, to the children placed in your care.

You also realize just how much you need people. I'd guess that it's the same for biological parents and adoptive parents.

I don't like needing people. Sure I enjoy friendships and laughter. I enjoy deep, heartfelt conversations. But I don't like having to open up my life in such a way that when I call I have to do so to ask for help. It eats at me and sticks with me for weeks. Or it used to. I can't say I actually enjoy those calls now, but I'm more okay with them than I ever really thought I would be.

I need to be healthy, too. That's why the 7 Challenge is so important to me right now. I've lost weight since starting it on Tuesday. And I feel better. I also feel like I'm starting to get more clarity. Amazing how that works.

I don't think I've necessarily been completely unhealthy during our journey with foster care. I just don't think I was fully prepared. But I also don't think anyone can ever be fully prepared.

We've been talking a lot about when we'll start fostering again. We've discussed ages, numbers of kids, and how it will effect our lives. And y'all, I'm ready. But I am also terrified. Not because of the thought that they may leave (that's not under my control so I just have to trust that God always knows best). And not because of how exhausting it will be. It's a terror that stems from one simple thought (or not so simple thought): what if I'm not good enough?

That's where this sudden need to simplify comes into place. It strips me of all the items I've found identity in. It strips me of all the preconceived notions I have about how life is supposed to be. 7 is helping me to focus on now. To focus on who I am in Christ and to let who I am in Christ be who I am always.

7 isn't easy. Neither is foster care. None of it is. But that doesn't mean it isn't still worth it.

The 7 Challenge - Body Won't Break Style

Tomorrow is October 1st. It is the first day of my (scary) entrance into the world of The 7 Challenge.

What is The 7 Challenge? It's this crazy idea Jen Hatmaker created. An experimental mutiny against excess. And because Jen Hatmaker is destined to be my best friend (even though my attempts to "stalk" her in March failed), I decided it was time for me to take the plunge and stage my own mutiny against excess.

What are the 7 things? Here's a quick breakdown (thanks Barnes and Noble!). Food. Clothes. Spending. Media. Possessions. Waste. Stress. They would spend thirty days on each topic, boiling it down to the number seven. Only eat seven foods, wear seven articles of clothing, and spend money in seven places. Eliminate use of seven media types, give away seven things each day for one month, adopt seven green habits, and observe “seven sacred pauses.”

I'm starting with food. One - because that's what Jen did. Two - because then I can enjoy Thanksgiving when November rolls around. And third - because I need to stop eating Chik-Fil-A.

I've always struggled with my relationship with food. And I'm realizing how much I struggle with my relationships with other things too. I want to break the struggle. Not just because I want to lose weight. I hope that happens (I kind of need it to happen) but that's not the main point.

The point is to stop looking to over things for fulfillment. The point is to truly simplify (and not just talk about simplifying). The point is to let go and then let God.

I've done a lot of crying over the past few weeks. Because of grad school, because of work, because of changes in our family situation. And I've done a lot of trying to fill up the emptiness with things. I've prayed some, but I haven't really prayed. I've just depended on my Chik-Fil-A to get me through.

And my diet coke, too. (I am not getting rid of coffee. That would be cruel and unusual punishment to everyone who ever interacts with me. I am, though, going to limit it to coffee at home instead of coffee from Panera Bread, Starbucks, Wild Hero, and the list goes on...)

But I can't keep doing that.

You know that saying about how insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results every time. This smart guy named Albert Einstein said those words. And y'all?

I'm guilty of it. I'm guilty of thinking I can eat Chik-Fil-A six times in one week (and yes, that did just happen last week) and lose weight (and no, that did not happen). I'm guilty of thinking that there will always be money in my bank account. I'm guilty of thinking that I honestly need a fourth grey tee-shirt or fifteenth cardigan. I'm guilty of uttering the words "There is nothing to eat" and "I don't have anything to wear."

I'm insane because I kept expecting different results. I keep thinking I can just want to simplify or want to be healthy or just kind of try but not really give anything up.

I don't want to be Albert Einstein's definition of insane. And I don't want to just kind of try. I want to die to myself and live a life that is unabandoned. I want to reflect Jesus in every stinking thing. So I'm taking the challenge.

I'm excited to (mimick/copy/stalk/pretend to be) Jen Hatmaker as I take on this adventure. I'm excited to blog about how hard it is to give up Chik-Fil-A, how much I dislike spinach, how much I miss diet coke, how much I want cheese, how I don't know how to tell if an avocado is ripe, and eventually how much I miss the plethora of cardigans just hanging in my closet.

I don't promise to be perfect. With blogging or with adhering to the challenge. But I am going to try. Not only that I am going to depend on Jesus as I embark on this fast and I'm going to give him my life in a way I never have.

“If a fast doesn't include any sacrifices, then it's not a fast. The discomfort is where the magic happens. Life zips along, unchecked and automatic. We default to our lifestyles, enjoying our privileges tra la la, but a fast interrupts that rote trajectory. Jesus gets a fresh platform in the empty space where indulgence resided.”  - Jen Hatmaker

Day One {Food} | Day Two {Food} | Day Three {Food} 

 Day Four {Food} | Day Five {Food} | Day Six {Food}

no one else is coming

honoring Dr. Deb Shropshire

A little over a week ago, I joined over 100 Oklahomans for a Foster Care Forum. It was a last minute decision bred of more unexpected time off following knee surgery and the sudden need to be a part of anything that had to do with foster care, adoption, and the orphan crisis. I volunteered and greeted people as they came in. And I reconnected with several past colleagues and friends.

For whatever reason, I was called to the world of social work and child welfare immediately following my college graduation. In fact, I was offered, and then accepted, my first adult job before even graduating college. Armed with a degree in journalism, a desire to change the world, and wide-eyed optimism, I began my career in social work at the age of 22.

A lot of people didn't expect me to last a year. But I did. I lasted just under two years in permanency before accepting a job recruiting and retaining foster parents and adoptive parents. I still can't tell you why I took a job in child welfare. It doesn't make any sense.

I never really knew about the orphan crisis or the need for foster care growing up. I knew people who were adopted but that was about it. Still, I always had a desire to help people. I wanted to make a difference and had dreams of owning a ranch on the beach where kids with nowhere else to go could live.

Looking back, I now know that the dream was placed on my heart by God. He has called me to social work, to foster care, to standing in the gap and doing something that looks odd to a lot of people. He has taken a girl who grew up never knowing abuse or neglect and decided that she is to be the mother to countless children who have suffered countless hurts.

I've often wondered why I want to foster. We get asked that question a lot. I don't think there's a really good answer for it. And I don't necessarily think it's something we just want to do. Rather it's something that we feel we have to do.

One of the speakers at the Foster Care Forum said something that has stuck with me. To be fair, ALL the speakers said things that have stuck with me. But there's one thing that has stuck with me more.

It was a story told by a woman who ventured into foster care by taking a child home from the shelter for the Christmas holiday and then took two other children home for a weekend. She talked about the kids they cared for and how their stories touched she and her husband. And then she said this "I realized that no one else was coming." (Thank you, Susan Binkowski, for this.)

Right now, in Oklahoma, there are over 10,000 child in state custody. Over 10,000 children who have been neglected or abused and sometimes both. Over 10,000 children who won't sleep in their own homes. Over 10,000 children who won't wake up tomorrow morning with their birth parents.

And no one is coming for them. Social workers will seek out family members to take the children. And if there aren't family members, they will look for other people those children may know like teachers or friends. About half of the children in state custody will be placed with kinship foster families - these families who get calls in the middle of the night and of the day begging that they take placement of children who only want their mom and their dad. These families who will care for these children and try to make sense of why they're put in this position and try to figure out how they will pay the bills and feed extra mouths.

But what about the other children? The ones who don't have any relatives who can be approved or any other non-relative connections who are willing to take them. For them, no one else is coming.

People need to come. People need to open up their lives and invite in the mess that is foster care. People need to open their eyes and see the devastation that exists. And that's why we're fostering.

We're one of the foster families that is considered a kinship foster family. We're not related to the kids we're taking in, but we know them. We know their story. And when we heard they didn't have a place to go, we contacted OKDHS and said we would take them.

Our classes started on Saturday. It's the second time I've taken the classes. I took them a little over a year ago for my job, and so I was a bit bored on Saturday. I knew the material, had seen the videos, and I was just going through the motions.

We broke for lunch and went to a little Mexican restaurant. On the way to the restaurant, I commented to my husband that I wish we had invited the couple sitting next to us to have lunch with us. They aren't kinship. They're one of the ones welcoming in children they know nothing about, and I wanted to talk with them more.

God had other plans, and just after we ordered our food, we noticed a couple who was in our class sitting down at another booth. And we invited them to eat with us.

They were a kinship foster family and had taken in three children of the wife's sister. They were tired and broken down and in need of support. They needed someone who understood and were trying to wrap their minds around how they ended up as a kinship foster family. So we talked for over an hour. We let them spill their hurts and their frustrations and tried to offer some sort of support, some knowledge. We just tried to love them and tell them that we got it.

I realized then how much God has done to bring me to this place. I saw His sovereignty as we were able to be there for this family, to be the church to them and to stand in the gap along side them.

Foster care is hard. And it hurts. It makes you realize all the things about yourself that you ignore. It ostracizes you from society. People start to look at you differently. And you will lose friends.

You will always just be the foster family. You'll be the safe place for a child to sleep, but they will likely always want their parents. You will be the one to deal with anger and rage following a visit. You will also be the one to say positive things about a birth parent after they miss or cancel a visit. You will invite a child into your family and your life all the while knowing that they will choose their birth family over you.

You may not be considered a real parent. People may call you just a foster mom or a foster dad. And it will hurt. Because it's true and because you miss those kids, as difficult as they are, every single time they choose their birth family over your family.

But you will do it. You will do the sleepless nights and the angry outbursts and the parents who think you are trying to take their children. Because if you don't... then who will?

And, as Megan Dunham said, if it doesn't hurt so much then you haven't done it right.

what my love does

I missed week 4 of my series, Weight Loss Wednesday. The week was hectic and exhausting and overwhelming and full of lessons. I promised myself over and and over that I would write the next day, concocting what I would say, but I never found or made time to press my fingertips to the keyboard and type out any of my thought words.

This weight loss journey is a process. I've said it a hundred times. And I will think it - possibly say it - a million more times. There's no real pats on the back along the way. There's only me looking into the mirror and down at the scale and wondering why other's words of affirmation don't quite stick.

I'm a positive person. At least I try to be. But it's so much easier to concentrate that positivity on someone else rather than turning it onto the person in the mirror. I'd much rather focus on those put in my circle than focus on myself. Sometimes, though, I turn inward and do my best to forget about what it is like to care about others. That never lasts long. I was born to care and born to help and born to worry.

Ever since I earned my bachelor's degree in 2008, I've worked in the realm of social services. First as a social worker. Then recruiting foster families. Now I'm part social worker and part health advocate and fully serving an underserved population. It is one of the most thankless jobs there is.

Firemen are recognized for saving lives. Teachers are recognized for saving minds. Military personnel are recognized for saving the country. And social workers are forgotten - just like so many of the children they serve are forgotten.

There are over 8,000 children living in foster care in Oklahoma. Over 8,000 children who have suffered abuse and neglect and loss after loss after loss. Over 8,000 children who do not know how to handle all the conflicting emotions or the things they hear from social workers. Over 8,000 children who do not know where they belong. Over 8,000 stories most don't want to hear because the abuse hurts.

I don't know why this is my field. Or why God continues to place me back into the lives of children. I only know that I can no longer attempt to run from it. I must stand where God has placed me and trust that He is big enough to overcome the obstacles I face daily. Because I'm good at what I do but I am not perfect. I fail daily. I let people down and sometimes say the wrong thing. I struggle with how to be enough for everyone and how to ensure that the children I see throughout the week know that they are fiercely loved. And I can do it all well enough, I suppose. But I can't spark any changes without The One who first changed me.

I started reading the book Love Does a few weeks ago, and I'm a little over halfway through it. With every page I turn, I see the faces of the kids and I am reminded that love does. It does things for those who receive the love. It causes those who give love to do things. I want to be someone who does.

We've talked about fostering for years - my husband and I. We know the need. For much of the time I spent working as a social worker, he spent years working one-on-one with children trapped inside aspergers and autism. He cared for children placed in the hospital due to the intense drama they suffered. He saw all the depravity and hurt that children face and feel when they are not loved well.

And even though we've talked about it, we have not yet taken the steps required to foster. Because we want to be able to give EVERYTHING to any child who comes through our doors, and giving everything, when you know it's likely the child will leave, is absolutely terrifying.

But each and every time I come in contact with a child who benefits even the smallest bit from love and attention, I remember that that fear will be the best fear we have ever experienced. Because it will be a fear we experienced for walking where God has asked us to.

Before we can walk this path, I know there are things I need to work through. Like losing weight and losing all the struggles that have accompanied needing to lose weight. Like learning how to actually let go of control and simply trust in Him. Like asking Him to help me love and then depending on His strength to be the main source of my love and wisdom.

Courageous people feel the same fear everyone else does, they just decide not to live like they’re afraid anymore. --Bob Goff

I don't want to live in any of my fears. I want to break those chains and run freely into the life He has invited us into. I want to show any child who is in foster care that I meet that they are immensely loved. And when, and if, the time is right, I want to also show that love to that child's parents and allow God to use me to fix what was once destroyed.

I can't take in all the children in Oklahoma's foster care system. If I'm approved for the maximum number of children, I could take up to six. If we're in a place where we can, that's what I want to do. Until that time, though, I want to love others and allow God to love me so that I am filled with all that He is so that I can pour out all of His love.

I don't know why God has placed me in this field. Or why I am stirred so deeply by the issue of child abuse. I couldn't tell you why it is I get so angry at people who brush the issue aside or people who talk about the issue but don't really know. All I know is that I love the children I am responsible for just as much as any mother or father could love their child but not as much as my Father in Heaven loves them or me.

All I know that this field right now is thankless but that doesn't really matter. I don't need a pat on the back or a day dedicated to my field. I simply need to see one smile and know I did something good at least once and remember God is working through me.

it's getting so much clearer

To One of The Bravest Girls I Know,

How do I start this letter? It's so much easier to write letters to my husband, my family, and our friends. Words are so powerful, but as you well know, you're not very good at believing them when they are directed towards you.

I think that is the first thing to remember. The words you say to others are words that you also need to say to yourself.

It's not that you're more special than another. Or better than anyone else. But you do need to love yourself in order to love others. (I don't say this to be harsh but just to remind you that every person in the world is worthy of love.)

Remember how you felt at church Sunday morning? Truth poured from the pastor's lips and pierced your heart - reminding you (and me) that life is not about the things that so many say it is. Life's about loving others well, building lasting and meaningful relationships with others, and living in such a way that you always point back to the cross.

There are times when do you do this. But as you well know, there are plenty of other times when you don't do this. I think that the reason you (and I) struggle with this is simple: we don't love ourselves enough.

It's a hard thing to balance. How do you love yourself without lifting yourself up above God, above the calling placed on your life? How do you take care of yourself without allowing your life to become solely about you? How do you live your life for others without completely forgetting to take care of yourself as well?

My suggestion is to start with the cross and to remember just how loved you are by a God who willingly went to the cross and died for you. His death was never in vain. Please also remember that. It was done so that you would begin to live life in a way that spoke to others. And that way should also speak to you on a daily basis.

Also remember that God loves you for the person you are. He made you, knitting you together in your mother's womb. The things you don't like about yourself - your amniotic band syndrome for one - are things He created and that set you apart from others. Enjoy those things. Capitalize on those things. Love those things.

While you are remembering the things God loves you for, also remember that everything He has given you is a gift. Nothing belongs to you; it all belongs to Him. I know letting go of control is terrifying, but I truly believe that your life will become more of what it needs to be as you let go or what your expectations are.

God has given you talent, and that talent needs to be used. Don't stop writing - ever. It doesn't matter how many people read or don't read. What matters is that you never give up. When the words won't come, sit at the computer - fingers poised above the keyboard - and wait. The words will always come. And once they do, love them and put them out for the world to read. Yes, you have to be careful with how much you share, but share you must as that is something you were born to do.

You've been through so much in your now twenty-six years of life - sometimes with no one else there to hold your hands and sometimes with a community of people to build you up and wrap their arms around you. And you've always come through.

Life hasn't been what you expected. But that's where all of the beauty comes from as you're living the life God designed for you - not a life that He designed for someone else and then plugged you into when it didn't work out for that someone else. This life is the one you are meant for. Please enjoy it and love it.

And please stop comparing yourself to others. There are so many things you have seen and survived that might have been the end for someone else. But there are also other things that might have been the end for you that others survived.

You are where you are for a very specific reason and purpose. I know you want to understand why and you want to when things are going to "get better," but it is time to let go and to simply live your life and love yourself so that you in turn can love others and show others how to love themselves.

Today is Valentine's Day 2012, and I want you to take a deep breath and let these words sink in. Not necessarily the words I've written to you but the words God has placed in your heart - the words that speak of His truth, His love of you, and His hopes for you. Valentine's Day is about love - not just the romantic kind but all kinds. And today you need to realize how loved you are by God.

Let the breath out, then go look at yourself in the mirror.

You are beautiful. You are wonderfully made. You are a light in a world that is often too dark. You are filled with hope. You are brave. And even though it often seems like things will never improve, they will, and you will survive just as you always have.

Now I want you to take in another deep breath and close your eyes. Think of what you want from this life. Say a prayer that God would continue to guide you. Imagine the faces of the people who you can help, the people you can tell your story too. As you let out this deep breath, open your eyes and start moving.

This is the time for you to live your life out for God and in the process learn how to love yourself the way He first loved you.

Love,
The Girl In The Mirror


(title from "today was a fairytale" by taylor swift)