Once again not sure where to start writing. This post goes over a lot so please forgive me if it’s all over the place.
We received a phone call this past Monday for our first placement with foster children. We were asked to take in two siblings under the age of five for 10 days. With every placement we are given the option to say yes or no, so we took a night to pray and think about it before responding. We were given a little bit of history- these children had been removed from their parents because of neglect, substance abuse and domestic violence. They had been with a foster family for the last two years and had made significant progress since then.
The next morning we accepted and with nervousness and anticipation began to get ready to take in these little guys Friday. But Thursday afternoon we received a phone call that they had been placed with a relative along with their five other siblings and three cousins (So that single mama was taking care of 10 kids). Not an ideal situation by any means but certainly a much less traumatizing situation than going to a complete stranger’s house. We were very disappointed that we wouldn’t get a chance to take care of these little guys, but after a few hours of the news settling in there was also a sense of relief. On Wednesday Palmer had been diagnosed with bronco-pneumonia and a double ear infection. Perhaps after all, it wasn’t the right time.
It has been a very emotional week for me (and us). For the last few years I’ve dreaded approaching the month of July as remember Andrew on his birthday on the 14th. Although this year is not anywhere nearly as difficult as it was that first year when my arms were empty. This year my plate is full with two little boys to hold and kiss on, that keep me on my toes, and often wear me out from chasing after them all day. I remember Andrew more distantly with each passing year, and the sorrow comes back less and in shorter instances.
But I still miss him. I miss him when I see other five year olds around me. When Jack says he wishes he could get to ‘see’ his brother in heaven. When this weekend goes by quietly and I realize in an alternate world we would be celebrating his birthday. I want to honor his short little life as best as we can and sometimes it’s hard to know just how to do that. Some years I’ve blogged on his birthday and others I haven’t. Some years we’ve had birthday cakes, but not on others. Some years we’ve had large family gatherings and others have been very intimate. It’s hard navigating through each grief each year and figuring out what to do to as a family to honor and remember him.
Today there is a certain emptiness to our home as we expected it to be filled with four busy toddlers. In a small way, it brings back memories of the emptiness we felt after losing Andrew. The empty crib, the excitement and questions from people, the room ready for him, the expectation of how tired we would be at that time.
As this time approaches I can still choose to trust God even when things don’t make sense. As much as I don’t understand the way things turn out sometimes, as much as I think that my plans are good- ultimately I come back to a place of accepting that only God knows best, not me. Surrender is not easy for me and has been a process that takes time. But deep down I know He wants good things for us, for our family, and also for the children that are in the foster system.
This afternoon I read through early posts from the first year of not having Andrew. I came across this post written during a time when we didn't have a child to hold. I am thankful today for all the good, wonderful, and joyful chapters God has written since then.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009:
I am confident God will write the end of my story. Steve
reminded me last night that God also writes the beginning and middle of the
book. As difficult as life might be at times, it is these moments that shape us
into who we are supposed to be. And without these temporary trials there would
not be a happy ending.
That was eye opening for me. As much as my emotions tell me
at times that God has temporarily forgotten about me, I remember that even
though this season of my life feels pretty dark, His handwriting is there too.
And there is a purpose and a time for each chapter of His story.
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