Round 2

I woke up sweating in the middle of the night, thoughts swirling and hands shaking. “I think we are actually crazy!” I tried to say under my breath as to not wake my snoring husband. We are getting licensed for foster care once again after a long break and two out of state moves. Yesterday I had woken up thinking quite the opposite- I was smiling, thinking of my girls loving on a precious little one. “What better thing to give our lives to than this?” It’s a life calling.

And so goes the mental teeter totter. One day I’m peaceful and certain, the next I’m panicking thinking nobody sane would do this again knowing full well what we are in for. The last few days I’ve been thinking that the tricky part is staying in that tension of both- yes it’s going to be wildly hard- and yes it’s worth everything. We know God had called us to adoption and foster care, and we also knew after our adoption finalized in 2020 we were not done. We truly needed a season of healing and rest, honestly I wasn’t sure if we would ever do it again. Our hearts had been so shattered and I didn’t feel strong enough. But ever so slowly we felt the Holy Spirit’s gentle nudge to crack that door open again. It was very scary, and I don’t think I would have jumped in if it wasn’t for Sam feeling so sure. The fact that he was willing to this again after all we’ve walked through, is miraculous and something I don’t take for granted.

We didn’t sign up for classes naively and there were times it looked like the door closed. It took about a year for us to be certified and I think I really needed that year. There was a lot of necessary processing and wrestling in that space. We knew how potentially triggering this whole thing could be for us, and yet we were pulled in. I felt the Lord tell me He would redeem it if I would trust Him and He would use it as part of our healing. And not only us, but part of our girls healing as well. It feels like getting back on a horse after a terrible accident in some ways. Some days the anxiety felt crushing as we got closer- I would be reminded of details of Jordan’s case or have a flashback of his face on the news. I asked our sweet church to pray over me and I felt the sweet presence of Jesus so strongly in that room. It’s like we need to face the fear head-on and tell the enemy he will not have the last word. A dear friend was praying over us and used the analogy of a video game, beating the final level and having to defeat the “boss”. Like going into round 2 of foster care is facing fear and winning, because we belong to the Lord and He is actually the one fighting for us. He’s bringing us back, in order to bring us forward, past the boundaries of our fear. But this time around is also new and I will have a choice to walk in faith, not dread. I have felt that choice over and over throughout the classes, the paperwork, meeting case workers and preparing our home. Almost every single part of the process has old memories attached for us, some of them are beautiful and a lot of them filled with ache.

We had one of the worst case scenarios play out in real time. There are parts of our story I don’t share and many that still don’t feel redeemed- some are just tragedy and loss. And that’s still pretty hard to swallow. I know having another child in our home with other family members involved, court days and the broken system all up in my face again- I may want to scream. I expect to have some meltdowns, we are human. But I’m also going to expect to see so much goodness and I know we can do this. It’s worth the pain.

God is not done with what He started and fear is not going to rule my heart as we go back to the battle ground. I feel a holy anger that the enemy tried to steal so much from us and who we are-and in some ways I feel like we must do this. For us and for others that are tempted to stay knocked down, or make a home in the wastelands when God is walking us back up the mountain. He is so patient with our process and He heals us layer by layer, if we will simply open our hands to Him and don’t try to skip the hard parts.

We are officially on the phone call list and we will get a placement any day now. The anticipation is killing me! The girls ask me just about every hour if I have my phone on, they are just giddy to see who they get to love on.

Maybe I wrote most of this to give myself a pep talk when I need it. But thank you all who have prayed and processed and supported us. Having good people on the journey and seeing the love surround our family over and over has marked my heart forever. Here’s to a new chapter! And new babies to love.

Mother’s Day

I told Sam a few days back I wish it wasn’t Mothers Day weekend because I don’t feel like celebrating. It was one of those weeks where everything felt heavy and hard and I would’ve given myself a C minus in mothering. I actually feel like I’m giving full effort but there’s just all these surfacing disappointments and unmet expectations that have me in a funk. I’m sure many can relate, those layered emotions of motherhood. When we don’t take a look at those percolating feelings and instead stuff them down and keep hustling along at the pace the world sets for us bad things tend to happen. I feel like I keep learning the same lesson because it just goes against our nature to let go of control and fully trust Him. God wants to be in it WITH us. I know it in theory, but it can be so hard to recognize when we’re becoming numb and putting up walls so we don’t have to face the one who knows all the intricacies of our heart. When we name our pain and invite Him in, something shifts. I don’t know how He does it, but He does every time!

So in transparency I sat down with my journal and listed the hard stuff…I’m feeling discouraged praying for babies in my womb the last 6 years and not seeing those prayers answered. I’m really bummed that our foster license had to be on hold right when we almost finished the process while Sam finds steady work again. I’m weary from carrying my child’s trauma and wondering if she’s going to be ok, if I’m doing a good enough job being her Mom. I’ve been answering such hard questions about her story- the ones I’ve been dreading since she was born but knew would come, a story I didn’t expect or sometimes want. I’m frustrated by the behaviors and meltdowns that seem to be so intense sometimes I just don’t know what to do. Sometimes on mother’s day I cry over her birth Mom and all the complicated layers of adoption just explode out over me. I also miss Jordan and being a boy Mama and I just kinda wish the world wasn’t so chalked full of ache. I wish that Motherhood felt lighter to me and not so confusing.

These things are all my current reality- and I’m sure you have your own set of painful circumstances to bare too. The intermingling of the beautiful and hard, but the hard seems to take the spotlight if we don’t fight for the tension. When I choose to slow my mind and breathe- to invite His presence and ask for His perspective-my heart softens to His healing. It doesn’t make all this hard stuff untrue, but it opens me up to receive the rest of the truth. The one He went to the grave for us to embody. He triumphed over death and breathes His resurrection life over the places that feel hopeless and barren. It’s His specialty.

The whole truth is He has answered hundreds of prayers and done so many miracles in my life even if it looks different than I thought it would. He’s given me beautiful babies to love and a story of redemption that is the honor of my life to walk out. He has shown me parts of His heart I would have never known if my life went differently. In our surrender, through our tears and our “I really don’t get this God”, He holds us and gives us more of Himself. He can handle your grief from a hard childhood, from sickness, from marriage problems, wayward children, and long unanswered prayers.

If Motherhood makes you feel more sad than joyful this year- if it brings up old wounds or loss- you are not alone friend. The enemy wants us to think we are, that our pain is isolated. But you are seen and loved and He is truly enough. May God touch those tender places in your heart and give you His love and nearness in abundance this year. He is in the details and He knows. It says in the word that He intercedes for us when we ache, and he turns our mourning into joy! That’s a pretty beautiful promise.

5 years

I remember sitting on my porch weeping after Jordan died. My life had quickly turned upside down and the trauma was compounding, but I was determined to hold onto hope somehow. I sipped cold coffee and kept thinking, “I wonder where we will be 5 years from now”. It felt hard to imagine. Will this feel the same every year-crushing and weighty, or will we be healed and thriving by then?

Interesting how it can be both. These last five years have put so many miles on my heart, in some ways it feels like a lifetime has gone by. But then I’ll see a photo of myself holding two spunky babies, and it feels like just yesterday. How in the world can it be five years? I look down at my daughter playing and realize her 5th birthday is just around the corner so it must be. My feisty little gift of redemption, always teaching and reminding me things I don’t feel ready to learn. I see Jordan in her every single day, which is both beautiful and challenging. I have been profoundly grateful that she keeps me present and active in my healing- like a catalyst for mending my heart. I couldn’t ever hide from the pain really, I had diapers to change. I was motivated by love for another tiny person to forgive, process and heal at a faster pace than I maybe would have ever chosen. She doesn’t replace him in any sense, they have crazy similarities but are very much their own. As she gets older I’m faced with the most difficult questions for a Mama heart- I’m fumbling around trying to find the words when I know even the most eloquent speech won’t soften the blow. But the Lord continues to meet us with kisses of mercy. He shows up over and over like He promises, filling in the gaps where we lack.

This year was the first, where I felt more like smiling instead of sobbing when the September date came and we told our Jordan stories. We released balloons with our girls and they blew kisses to heaven and told me how sweet it will be to see him with Jesus. The veil seems so thin when you lose someone, heaven has become a common topic with our kids. I think there will always be an ache come September, but I couldn’t help but marvel this time, at all the Lord has done. It’s like I can see it more the further out we get, or maybe I’m just more willing to see. He exceeded my expectations in so many ways- things I thought were forever he came and met with His peace. The redemption story hasn’t been the way I wanted, but that may be part of the miracle. He kept our hearts soft when the enemy tried to make us hard and bitter. He is teaching us to forgive what we deem unforgivable, to wrestle out the hard questions with Him. To trust that He is good even when life doesn’t feel good and not blame him for things that were never Him. Trauma and even death do not have the final word!

So this year on the anniversary of losing J, we did something that felt both absolutely terrifying and absolutely right. We signed up for the foster care orientation in our new state we’re calling home for now. Some will probably think we are crazy or not understand why we would willingly go back into the very thing that caused so much heartache. I would be lying if I didn’t think the same sometimes! It took us a while to consider jumping back in and we don’t take it lightly. So many prayers and tearful conversations, part of us wishing we didn’t still feel the pull towards foster care and adoption. But we knew we were not done, the Lord has been speaking as He heals us and preparing us to give the yes when He said it’s time. So we are doing our best to be obedient and push past the fear, one shaky step at a time. I know one thing for sure, He can do a whole lot with a weak yes.

New chapter

We’ve been in Alabama officially for 9 months now. I was craving this fresh start somewhere, and now here we are and I find myself feeling awkward a lot of the time. Don’t get me wrong, I really love it here. It was the breath of air we needed after a long, hard season and I’m deeply grateful. I’ve felt more healed and hopeful than I have in a long time and I’m so confident in the Lord’s goodness.
But if I’m honest, part of me wanted to come here and just pretend none of the last few years happened. I noticed myself putting walls up and not wanting to meet anyone new because it felt too hard. I’m normally an open book, I like to go deep and move past surface conversations. I love to hear your story and share mine. But my story got so messy and hard to tell, it seemed easier not to. But then you get to a point in the relationship where it’s weird if you don’t and it feels like I’m leaving out such a huge part of our testimony. God has been convicting my heart to keep feeling, keep sharing even when it’s hard because our story points to Him.
I decided to write a short summary for any new friends who are interested. It feels really impossible to summarize quickly and I risk sounding cold when I do, but I figured I would try.

Sam and I became foster parents when we moved to Florida in 2015. At the same time, we got pregnant with our miracle daughter Eleanor. We had her and then decided to take our first long term foster placement when she was 3 months old (because we are crazy!) We said our yes to Jordan who was 5 months old, so we jumped into parenthood with two tiny babes. We had him in our family for a year and a half, much of that time it looked like we were adopting him, but his case took a turn at the end and he reunified with his birth mother in the Summer of 2018. It was hands down the hardest thing I’ve ever done and there’s sooo much more to all of that (you’re welcome to keep reading this blog if you want the whole story). 3 months later there was an Amber alert with Jordans name, our very worst fears we’re coming true. He was missing and his mom made up a fake story about an abduction and had our whole town searching. It was a horrific weekend that ended with him being found dead in the woods. (You can Google the story about Jordan Belliveau. It’s still so painful for me to talk about that part) The truth was his mother had killed him and she was arrested and sent to jail where she will spend the next 50 years. She was 6 months pregnant with another baby at the time. It was all over the news, it was a nightmare, the worst pain I’ve ever felt. It traumatized and rocked our family. He was our baby boy for most of his little life and we felt helpless, angry and crushed. It got national news attention and we were thrown into the middle of it. During our grief and shock, we were clear about one thing- when we heard she was pregnant we knew we were supposed to adopt that baby. It probably sounded crazy and we had no idea how it would happen, but God did. He moved MOUNTAINS and none of it was easy, but that baby is our precious girl! We got her the day after her birth and finalized her adoption a year ago, Nov 2020. It was a loooong battle, but worth everything.

See what I mean about hard to summarize!? It feels awful to spring that story on anyone. In Florida everyone knew everything it seemed because it was all so public. Our friends there carried us and there was an unspoken understanding. But moving to a new place has been interesting. Sam and I are always wondering how to give the “lighter version”, but I’ve come to the conclusion that our story is just really heavy. That’s NOT to say it’s hopeless, because if you keep reading or talk to me about it in person I can tell you God was SO very present every step. There are so many details. I witnessed His presence and miracles like never before. Intertwined in the pain and devastation, there was beauty and joy and He is still redeeming. We never, ever walked alone. I’m learning to embrace grief and loss while still holding onto hope and I want to encourage others to do the same. I know so many people are hurting right now, our world is broken and there is a collective ache.
God is so patient, he’s never in a rush for us to hurry up and heal so He can use us for His glory. He cares about our wounds, our hearts. He wants to touch those aching places if we let Him and sit in the grief WITH us. Our story is not all wrapped up with a bow now that we have our girl. She is a gift and such a tangible, kind reminder of the Lords faithfulness. But there are still layers of hurt and it’s been a journey for all of us and will continue to be. We miss Jordan so much, we still talk about him often. And now we are praying for so much wisdom and grace as his sisters get older, it’s a lot to navigate and process as a family. I’m beginning to see just how much God wants to do in us and through us if we are willing.

Thank you for reading and being a part of our life, friends. The new ones and the ones who know this story well and held us up during that time. I’ve learned so much about community and leaning on each other in the last few years. I’m so thankful for the love and support we have felt, it’s truly beautiful. I’m not sure what He has next for us, but I know we can trust Him.

“Put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord there is Faithful love. And with Him there is plentiful redemption” psalm 130:7

Ode to Florida

When we got orders to Florida I was devastated. It was no where on our list and I really knew nothing about it. I had a picture in my head of bright colors, the spring-break party scene and alligators. I got over the initial shock of not getting a location we wanted and decided God must have a purpose in this move and so we chose to make the best of a new adventure. We were so happy to be getting out of the boat life and long deployments and into the aviation world with the Coast Guard. 

Tampa Bay quickly charmed us with its white-sand beaches, killer sunsets and gorgeous greenery. We were surprised by how many hidden gems we found near us and how much we liked the area, despite the horribly humid summer. We met some incredible people, got plugged into a wonderful church and God opened our heart wide to foster care and adoption. We got pregnant with Eleanor and began fostering babies in the same year, a wild journey of trust and surrender. We strapped our babes on for lots of exploring and bucket list items- memories I will treasure forever. The variety of plants and wildlife is impressive here and it stays green most of the year! We found our favorite spots, coffee shops of course, and views of the water, trails, parks galore and magical springs to kayak through. Those parts were easy to love- others not so much. You can get eaten alive by mosquitos and no-see-ums in 1 minute flat! And the summer/Fall is unbearably hot and sweaty- you need at least two showers a day or to own a pool. The drivers are absolutely terrible and traffic is too, not to mention the stoplights are the longest you’ll ever meet. Florida is full of quirky everything, but you could argue that is what makes it fun and charming in its own weird way. We live in a busy, fast paced area with pockets of wonderful and then pockets of not-so-wonderful. But isn’t that how life is? We’ve learned our attitude is everything moving to a new place- you hunt for the good and make it feel like home. You find your people and your places and before you know it, you are sad thinking about leaving somewhere you once thought you could never-ever live! I laugh that we have been here 6 years, the one station we thought we wanted to avoid has been our home for more than half of Sam’s career. 

Florida hasn’t been easy, it hands down brought me the most joy and pain combined! We didn’t want to get an extension here, after Jordan died we wanted to leave as fast as possible. I thought there was no way I could stay any longer, living with daily triggers and facing all the places that brought me such sorrow. But God knew we needed to finish this chapter, more healed and whole. One street over from where Jordan died, is the street my daughter was born on, which is also along the same main road that leads to our church. The juxtaposition of pain and joy was ever-constant. He wasn’t going to allow us to leave bitter and angry- remembering Florida only for what was stolen from us, because it has been so much more than that. Florida marked us and changed us forever- we endured a truly horrific tragedy and also saw amazing victories. We learned how to process pain and grief here, how to receive from people and admit when we need help, we learned new depths of the love and forgiveness of the Lord. Weaved into the pain was great love and miracles upon miracles. 

I will never forget Florida- where I had my 3 babies and fell in love with a God who carried me close and touched every broken place with His goodness. Florida, where we found the richest community that held us up, friends that are now family forever. Florida brought me to the end of myself and to more of God- into a story I could never- ever have written, but feel so humbled to be a part of. It is truly bittersweet to leave this place. But I know it’s time now, I can recognize that and know that there is so much good ahead. A fresh start and a continuation of our journey. I’m just so very thankful He didn’t let us leave early like we thought we wanted. 

Finally

We are just days away from adoption and it just feels totally surreal. I’m waiting for my brain to catch up and process all that the last two years held, but I think in some ways I’ll be processing our story for the rest of my life. When God writes it, there are layers of complexity and intricate details we can’t grasp right away, nor are we meant to.

Life has seasons and some winters feel extra long, but doesn’t that make the sunshine and sprouting of new life that much more wonderful? We think the cold, barren places might swallow us up but it’s in the waiting that our roots are going down deep so we can withstand future storms, stronger and more resilient. The most precious gifts are grown in the waiting seasons- they mark us and remind us of who God is, faithful and never changing. A lot of it won’t feel like a gift when you are looking through a lens of pain. It mostly just feels hard and wearisome. But I’ve found that He is so much more interested in the process and what we do when we are forced to wait. We want the answered prayer, the miracle, the healing, the breakthrough and we get increasingly more uncomfortable when we can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. The longer the wait, the harder it can be to hold on- even other people start losing their faith for you and begin to feel the weight of the journey. Tragedy challenges our theology and we aren’t sure what to do with that discomfort or how to respond. I remember after 2019 fully kicked my butt, I was praying and heard God ask “what if this lasts another year or two? Would you still trust me?” I thought I was going to punch a wall- my gut reaction was “I think I might actually die if this goes on another year! I’m DONE.” But through some ranting and crying I realized I was at a sort of crossroads and had to make a choice. I can’t live another year waiting for a date and letting my emotions and well being rise and fall with every lawyer update. I was so exhausted having my peace be dependent on circumstance when I know better. His peace and presence are actually the gift. I was so desperate for Him in that season and that posture of dependance grew my trust and intimacy. Words seem to fall short, because there is much more to say about what this looks like and I can assure you I didn’t do it well much of the time. Healing and trusting is just messy!

At the beginning of 2020 Sam and I made a choice to press in and allow more space for healing. We wanted to really know God, we wanted Him to show up and fight for us because we knew we couldn’t do it without Him. I didn’t want to waste this season and just get through it with my teeth clenched- I begged for God’s help to surrender and worship when absolutely nothing made sense. We had no idea the added insanity of Covid that was about to hit and what a wild year it would be for everyone for many many reasons! But I’m so glad God pushed us to process a bit more so that we can now celebrate the miracles more fully. When we finally got some breakthrough and the prayers were answered it truly didn’t feel real. When you wait for so long and then finally get what you’ve been waiting for you almost don’t know what to do, your life has revolved around this thing and then in a moment everything shifts. How do you transition well into a new season?

One of our biggest prayers in the last couple months was that we could fully celebrate and rejoice in this finalization. That we wouldn’t carry our baggage or disappointment and let it steal from the joy and all this day means! There is a sober acknowledgement of the loss and pain, yes, but that makes the thanksgiving deeper, the redemption more powerful. There is always hope with Jesus, for He himself is HOPE.

Let’s do this!!!!!

Some closure

A couple weeks ago Jordan’s case came to a sudden close. It didn’t happen anything like I imagined- there was no trial, no testifying, no public hearings. I found out over Facebook news just going about my day. Charisse pleaded guilty and got fifty years in prison. Just like that something I’ve been dreading for over two years came to an abrupt end. The photos and footage were on every local station. It’s hard to explain the pain we’ve repeatedly felt from the media. They share articles that feel so deeply personal- reporters always wanting to be first to give the juicy details. I don’t blame them really, it’s their job and people crave a good story. But to me, this is not just the top news article in Pinellas County- this is our life and trauma that has been dragging on in the public eye. Every time something is released we are triggered, forced to relive that week. Everyone wants to talk about it, feel involved and equally distressed. But it’s difficult for me to engage in those conversations because the layers are far too complex to explain. 

My first wave of emotion was sadness, which won’t make sense to many. I felt so overcome with grief that this is how the story unfolded- for her, for Jordan, for their family, for us. What she did was so deeply wrong and horrible- no sentence could ever make up for the life she took no matter what contributing factors there may be. There are consequences for our actions and she will live with that- but to me, it doesn’t matter if it’s fifty years or a life sentence. I don’t believe there will be true “justice for Jordan” on this side of heaven as much as the community longs for that. It’s natural to be outraged by injustice, especially towards the vulnerable and innocent. But we are all sinners capable of making grievous mistakes in our own selfishness and hurt. 

I am relieved and grateful that we don’t have to endure a trial. There is a sense of closure now that I didn’t expect to happen. I read so many comments online of those ready to throw stones and pour out their hatred and rage on this woman. I will not allow myself to go there. I’ve been through every emotion and you better believe anger was there. But God is teaching me about His justice and mercy, and how we can’t have one without the other. I won’t sugarcoat this process, it’s been painfully hard and I was often unwilling or just preferred to be numb. I won’t go into all the details because they are for God and I, but its involved lots of tears and sleepless nights. I knew I couldn’t stay in that place and needed a miracle on my heart. I needed it for my husband, for my girls. To be able to stay tender towards people and continue to love. So I could walk with the Lord again fully surrendered and able to worship. He is the only one who can soften the most hardened heart and transform us to be like Him. I’m still very much in process and things hurt but I will not go backwards. 

He will one day right every wrong and restore this broken world to order. It’s glorious to imagine that when all we see is ache around us. The Father desires all of His kids to come back to Him no matter how far gone we think they are or what we think they deserve. We don’t get to be the judge. Right now people are lost and in darkness and we see the effects of our free will and doing life apart from Him. His ways are so much higher than mine and I don’t even try to understand it all. But I do know one thing for certain, I will not join her in a prison of my own making. I will refuse bitterness, unforgiveness and hatred because God has shown me so much grace and love. I know what it means to be free and healed. I pray that for her too even though it goes against my flesh. When my heart is broken and I feel like I can’t move forward I come to Him and ask for help. I know I will have to do it a thousand times but I will keep coming, inching along because Jesus is worth it.

Motherhood

Motherhood has been the most sanctifying journey I have ever walked through. It’s been joy and grief colliding at every corner. Threads of love and loss tangled together weaving a tapestry so complex I can’t look away because God is there- pulling and re-threading the parts I thought were hopeless. 
I always wanted to be Mom since I was a little girl. I didn’t have big career plans or goals- but I loved Gods design of family and I knew I desired that. It didn’t come easily like I imagined. I thought I would pop out four kids by the time I was 30 and live the dream. But it didn’t happen quickly- there was a waiting and a delay. I didn’t understand it and it was painful but it pushed me to press into the Lord and wrestle through the hard questions. He was patient and didn’t pry my fingers that were grasping so hard onto temporary things and the idol of control. He invited me into His story if I would loosen my grip and trust that He had good plans for me. I’m so thankful he stirred my heart for foster care and adoption. That it wasn’t my plan B. It became my heart’s passion and I felt excited to jump in whether or not I was able to get pregnant. I knew I could be a mother no matter which way it came. 
Turns out we had both at once and Motherhood began for me in my yes to Foster care. Pregnant and doing respite care- I felt like maybe I had found my calling. 
After my daughter was born we took in a baby boy long term. They were 2 months apart and it was exhausting- like unconventional twins. We had no clue what we were doing as brand new parents but we felt Gods nearness and couldn’t quit even when we wanted to. I had no idea the things God was stirring in my heart- the way he expanded it and stretched it as I learned to love a child that wasn’t my own. To hold loosely and tightly simultaneously. To see sin and brokeness up close and have it invade my home and my comfort levels. 
To get to know his bio Mom and try to love and support her knowing the goal of fostering is to restore families. 

He left our home after almost two years of us being a family- it felt absolutely terrifying to say goodbye. The whole thing was unnatural. There were so many mixed emotions of sorrow and joy. 
Little did I know I would be saying another goodbye so soon. I could have never prepared myself for the storm coming. When he died I couldn’t breathe. I felt gutted- betrayed on every level. I didn’t want this story anymore. The pain and grief was too much to bare. It still is.
But the story wasn’t over. His mom was pregnant at the time of her arrest and we knew very quickly we were not done. God moved mountains to get that baby girl to us. It was the only thing I was sure of in that season- my moment of clarity. Every ounce of strength I had left was dedicated to bring our daughter home. 
On the heels of the most horrific tragedy of my life- came a blessing and deep joy. The epitome of beauty from ashes. I wondered why the story got so much attention and why everyone seemed so interested- I was trying to be private, trying to process and I didn’t need people holding their breath to see what would happen next. But I can see now, people are just looking for hope. This story is not only mine, God is the Redeemer. I’ve seen a hundred miracles big and small right in front of my eyes in the last year. I never imagined a major agent of my healing and processing would come from the person who caused the most extreme pain to our family. We are forever connected. And that is a hard truth to swallow. I could never dive into the depths of hatred because I have this child who deserves to one day hear her story through a lens of love and truth. My own heart is not big enough or brave enough- but the heart of the Father is! He will one day make everything right and wipe away every tear. For now, on this side of heaven, we tap into His resources and beg for supernatural forgiveness and grace to not be paralyzed by our offenses and pain.
I’ve had the privilege of loving three beautiful babies- two of which did not come from my womb. Those of you wondering if you can love a child you didn’t birth as much as one you did- the answer is profoundly yes. The depth of love that comes from choosing, fighting and advocating is as strong as blood. 
I’ve learned more about the gospel in these few long years than the rest of my life. And I know I’ve only just begun.
Some days I feel like Motherhood has brought me so much ache, so much hard. But I know more accurately it’s brought me love and purpose- it’s made life rich and it’s brought me to the end of myself and to more of the Lord. He has been so near and present every step of my journey. I know I have more babies to love however they come to me and I want to see them all as a precious gift. 

Happy Mother’s Day to all the beautiful Mamas out there❤️

Choosing

A few of my online foster friends have asked me how we keep going after the tragedy we lived through. How are we still adopting and open to foster care after seeing the worst case scenario play out in our life? How do you say God is good when it doesn’t feel like He is? Some days it’s harder to answer than others. Sometimes my answers are more like preaching to myself because I’m still in it. God has been teaching me so much about worship.

When we went back home to CA to grieve and just be with family- a dear pastor prayed over us and said “in the midst of heartache and deep loss we have the opportunity to offer God a sacrifice of praise. It’s only here on earth we get this privilege. To trust him in the mystery and declare his goodness anyway. It’s ok if you can’t yet, I’m going to do it for you now.” That struck me more than anything else in those dark days, I heard those words in my head a thousand times since. My perspective shifted to see that I didn’t have to have all the answers as to why it happened, or even how this will work out for good. We make a choice- indeed a sacrifice- to say God IS good despite my circumstances, despite a broken world that aches to be made whole. And the breakthrough comes in our heart. We inch closer towards Him and he makes us whole again. 

Praise and worship lifts us above our pain in a way that nothing else can. It feels so counter-intuitive in a culture that responds  based on feelings. But we see it in the Bible over and over. Job worshipped after he lost everything, David worshipped after he lost his son, Paul & Silas worshipped in prison and the shackles broke lose! It’s a powerful weapon we’ve been given to say God is good and worthy of my heart even though I may not “feel” it right now. It requires practice. We can pray honest, raw prayers like we see in the Psalms and bring every bit of our anger and pain to his feet. 

There’s a weird tension that we have to learn to be ok with. That this really really hurts and I’m not ok with how things went down, but I’m going to choose to hold onto hope. To believe God’s presence is the only thing that will make me ok again. Some Sundays, I can’t sing the songs and that’s fine. I show up and let truth envelop me until I can believe it again. It doesn’t have to be a one or the other thing- we can have a broken heart and still lift our hands. I know I’m not fully healed yet, and there are days I’m just flat out angry and one little thing will trigger me. But I can put up a wall, isolate and run from God in those moments- or I can run towards him and ask for help. We find an even deeper peace when we wrestle things out with the Lord. When we don’t understand why. We don’t ignore the hurt, we don’t say any of the cliche phrases- God does in fact give us way more than we can handle! It is so that we press in to Him and rely on His strength made perfect in our weakness. 

One of my favorite worship songs right now has a line that says “I will praise before my breakthrough, till my song becomes my triumph”. That’s my anthem currently because we are still fighting a battle. There is so much I don’t share about this adoption. It’s been incredibly draining and hard, a lot has felt unjust. It’s has cost so much financially and emotionally. I did not expect to have to get up so quickly and fight again, but I know God is with us. Loving our girl has been the sweetest gift we didn’t know we needed, and doubted if we even could. There is beauty in the ashes. He truly does the fighting for us when we surrender. He has given us a community of family and friends who rally around us and speak life when we feel dead inside. The enemy tries to throw punches, but they are weak in light of God’s power. 

We are going to keep holding on and keep loving. That is where healing is found. To love is a choice worth making.

one year

I can’t believe it’s been a whole year. But in some ways it’s like my brain knows it. A few weeks back an Amber Alert went off and the piercing sound almost crippled me. It was like all the suppressed memories from that week flooded to the surface in a moment. I felt like I was reliving those 3 days, almost for the first time. When an extreme tragedy takes place it feels like your life is now divided into two chapters, like a before and after- nothing will ever quite be the same. You are numb for so long initially, it’s almost like a protection because you could never handle it all right away- it would take you out. I know my mind read those reports, I saw the autopsy and attended the memorial service but it was mostly done on autopilot. God gifted us with a clarity in the moments it was necessary to make decisions and I believe the Holy Spirit carried us through the rest. The honest truth is when we really stop and think about all we walked through, it leaves us breathless. It is a deep ache and there is a righteous anger. It is incredibly hard to swallow on every level and I think it always will be, to some degree. There are so many things nobody knows, they don’t need to know. But we lived this, and it’s multifaceted and layered. We are slowly opening up to feel it. To process and own the reality.

A lot of this year felt like a blur. It was so public with articles and news constantly pumping out the latest updates and stories. It almost did feel like we were reading about someone else’s life sometimes, or maybe I was just wishing we were. We jumped headlong into our adoption process and that took every ounce of strength I had left. It was a new fight- ready or not. It felt like the nitty-gritty, how-legit-is-your-faith marathon on the heels of deep sorrow. But God was there, giving us pieces of hope to hold onto each week. You can know things in your head about life, grief, God. But it’s a whole different thing to practice what you preach-to live out what you say you believe. Did I really trust the Lord and believe He would equip me to walk forward into more hard? After such extreme grief there was a choice, to keep loving and give an obedient yes. No matter the cost. There was a deep, resounding yes in my spirit- against all odds- to give this all we had. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life really. When you love you always risk suffering, but healing is found there. In the sacrifice, in the laying your life down, you find abundant life.

On this year anniversary I initially felt disappointed that I am not where I hoped I would be- which is such a silly thing to say. I put expectations up and was surprised that I in fact feel worse after a year. But that’s because I am feeling. And I want to continue to feel and to love, to give my life away for what matters. I want to retrace this year and all I’ve learned about this dance of grief and hope. God has been so present and faithful.

Tribute to J

From the time I was very young, I always wanted a son. I remember having a baby doll I named John and thinking there was some kind of magic between mothers and sons. When we did get pregnant I was actually quite surprised to find out I was having a girl! 

A couple months after Eleanor was born we took our first long term foster placement. That was you, J. The worker told me you were the cutest baby boy they had ever seen. And you were, but we could see the trauma and pain under your smile right away. I wanted you to love me as much as I loved you, but you screamed and resisted the affection. I had never seen an angry baby before or even knew it was possible to have as many feelings as you did in that tiny body. You were sick so we checked off every box and made every appointment to get you healthy. But we couldn’t heal your soul, we didn’t know all your history or the wounds you carried far too young to understand. You wanted your Mom and Dad and we were just strangers. Sam did such a good job at loving you, he did everything in his power for you to know you were safe and taken care of. Honestly you scared me and I didn’t understand you yet. I was a brand new Mama with two babies and I was just overwhelmed. 

But we knew you needed us. We knew you were supposed to be here. So we held you and kept showing up. I can laugh now at how many times you projectile puked all over me at 5am. You liked when I wore you in the carrier so we took lots of early morning walks just learning each other. We treated you like our own son and you were accepted as just that by our community of family and friends that fell in love with you so very quickly. You charmed strangers on the street with your infectious smile. 

Without me even realizing it time was passing and all of our walls were coming down, trust was being built. You started to see me as your Mom, a safe place. I was never sure if I was doing a good job, but I begged God for strength to love you well. I prayed over you each night and sang songs and scriptures over your sleeping body. I prayed for your family and your future and my heart softened to see it all as a gift, to be part of another’s story in such a deep, transforming way. I messed up so many times, but God kept pouring out grace on my tired weak self.

Hearing your first words, seeing you crawl and walk and give hugs and kisses was such a gift and a celebration. None of it came easily and it was like waves of healing seeing you thrive. You were so full of energy and passion as a toddler. You would raise your eyebrows and point and gasp when you saw something you were excited about. You loved to clap and raise your hands when any music came on. Your most favorite things were dinosaurs, splashing in water, Sam, balloons and our cat, Agnes- I’m with you on all those dude. I can hear your amazing laugh all the time in my head. Eleanor still loves watching the videos of you two just baby babbling back and forth and running around chasing each other, my little unconventional twins. 

God taught me so much about His love for His kids through you. The love that pursues and chases us even when we resist and it’s not reciprocated. The love that leans into the hard and painful and remains faithful in its commitment. He chooses us over and over and His love changes us when we encounter it.

I’m still heartbroken that I had to say goodbye to you twice, that your story ended so differently than I thought it would. You would be turning 3 years old today. But I know it’s not the end, you are now living in the constant presence of that love.  Your name means “to flow down” and references the Jordan River in the Bible. Your short life is having a ripple effect spreading far and wide, flowing down and touching so many hearts. I have countless letters and emails from people who loved you and were impacted by your story, which is God’s story. I want to try to see through my pain and live unoffended by God, worshipping him through the mountains and valleys. I want to remember what a privilege it is to call you my first son. We love you always Jordan. Can’t wait to see you again.

Easter thoughts

Easter feels hard this year, I’m wrestling with so many feelings. I think the main being anger if I’m honest. Last year at this time I was in a good relationship with Jordan’s birth mom, I invited her to church for Easter Sunday and she said yes, until I was on my way and she changed her mind. It’s hard not to wonder if things would’ve been different if she came.

I had so many expectations of how this would all go, I wanted a beautiful reunification story. I wanted the cycle to be broken and the boy I deeply loved to always have that safety and security, knowing a Mother’s love. I wanted to stay in their lives and partner with a family being restored by God. I wanted my daughter to always know her “brother” and spend birthdays and play dates together. But instead she asks me “hey Mom can Jordan come over today?” And I choke back hot tears and have no idea what to say. How to explain this mind blowing tragedy that befell us. She is too young for this. I think I am too.

I imagined our foster journey so differently - caring for many children, maybe adopting one or two. Advocating for the voiceless and reunifying others with their parents. I started this off passionate and fiery, I wanted to partner with God and pour my life out for the kids that needed us. Now we aren’t quite sure where we stand, how we can keep fighting for this cause we know is so worth it, but has worn us down to the bone. I’m confident we are not finished, but it’s a struggle not to become jaded. Our story is a tough one, and I wrestle with thoughts everyday of how I’m going to explain it to my precious girls. We were abruptly thrown into the middle of a storm, came up for air for a quick second and then entered another, fighting to adopt baby sis. I’m one hundred percent sure it’s where we are supposed to be, but man, I am tired.

The grief seems to compound some days and I’m sifting through the layers as life moves swiftly on. I know God is good and faithful. He has never left us. Not once.

Sometimes he allows us to sit in the mourning, Jesus sat in the garden the night of his betrayal and asked if there was any way the cup be taken from him. He felt the full weight and heaviness that night. He came and walked in our humanity and was a man “acquainted with grief”. I don’t think my strong emotions surprise him, he gives permission for us to be in that place. He died so that we could forever have that nearness of the Father. I’m so thankful for that, I don’t think we would have made it through this season with out the “peace that passes understanding” the bible speaks of. I miss Jordan more than words can say right now, and I wish he was with us. But he is celebrating in heaven, as safe and as joyful as he could possibly be.

This Easter, I’m humbled even more so by the death and sacrifice of Jesus. God willingly gave his son, a depth of pain I’m not even close to! He went through gut-wrenching pain so that we could be free and have life with him forever. We can now grieve in this life but with HOPE. My pastor recently preached a message about being in hard seasons and feeling like God is silent. He referenced the Saturday before the resurrection, Jesus had been crucified and everyone sat in their sorrow. They had so many questions and deep grief and they didn’t know the end of the story...that Sunday was coming! We all have those seasons that feel like “saturdays”, the trials and storms that this fallen world come with. But it’s not the end. Yes I’m hurting and questioning and grieving, but I’m also rejoicing because I know the REDEEMER.

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a LIVING HOPE through the resurrection of Jesus from the dead”

— 1 Peter 1:3

Marked

It’s hard to put into words what the last two months have been like for us. It was a horror we never, ever imagined. The morning after Jordan was found, I woke up to News vans outside of my house. Voicemails were being left and I had 400 friend requests on social media. The reporters were wanting a story from the Foster parents. More details had come to light, that he had only just reunified with his birth parents a couple months before. Most of his life was lived here and people wanted to know more. I never saw that part coming, really. I guess I should have but there was no time to. My blog and photos from facebook were being shared everywhere and we were a pretty hot topic across social media and eventually National News. It felt like I became famous for something nobody would ever wish to be famous for, on the worst week of my life. Our grieving and mourning time was hijacked, and we were scrambling to figure out how to navigate this. We are both so not “spotlight” people, so this was rather terrifying. Thankfully we have the most amazing church family and community and they came to our side in an instant. I disabled social media for the time and we had our lawyer friend give us some advice on how to handle everything being so public. It was all way too much too soon, but it put us in action mode. We decided to make one, short statement to the media, addressing what had happened. The whole thing felt surreal, I knew I wouldn’t be able to be of any use so Sam took the speaking part and I stood by his side crying on TV for all to see. I didn’t really mind, it was my hearts desire to speak the truth and not let the media make up their own story and twist things if we could help it. I also wanted to offer some photos and let people catch a glimpse of who Jordan really was and what the majority of his life was truly like. It broke my heart to see these horrible pictures of him circulating online. You could see the pain. They just weren’t him, the boy we raised full of big personality and an infectious grin.

The rest of the week was a blur of painful news articles, each one seemed to sting more than the last. The ways he was failed by everyone as soon as he left our care. Thoughts flooded my mind. Did I not advocate hard enough? What could I have done to stop this? Every fear I had after he had left was true. Thoughts were interrupted as friends came and went, helping prep for a memorial service our church held in his honor. Both our Moms flew in to help which was a huge gift, especially to our daughter. Thankfully she is too young to understand, but smart enough to know something was off. I received a crazy amount of text messages, phone calls, letters, emails and porch drop-offs. Our home looked like a flower shop, which was the only thing that brought a smile to my face in those first few days. The outpouring of love, food and gifts blew my mind. Everyone was SO incredibly kind to us and we are still very humbled by that. I started to journal a list of my favorite stories from those first few weeks because so many beautiful things happened and I never want to forget the way we saw the Lord move even in the darkest days. We could feel the tangible presence of God holding us and even though our hearts felt shattered, we were not alone.

By the second week I started to feel weak and exhausted, my whole body hurt. We hadn’t really been able to be still and just process the tragedy that had just occurred. We took a break from our phones and tried to have some quiet family time. Sam’s work was so gracious to give him time away. Things just kept piling up. We were being asked to be interviewed by so many different people all over the place. I thought the statement would make most of that go away, but it seemed to just add to everyone’s curiosity. On top of that, so much of the case and broken system were being put on display, it seemed to have the world fired up along with us. Although I appreciated support in certain areas, it began to feel like an immense burden on top of my grief. So many foster families seemed to think we had some sort of ‘golden key’ to fixing Foster care and we were given this voice, whether we wanted it or not. People from the investigation wanted to speak with us, as well as higher-ups in the system and State reps. It was obvious changes needed to be made and maybe we could help. It felt like the biggest privilege and also the biggest burden. This problem is so incredibly multi-faceted, I can’t even begin to explain. Everyone seems to have an opinion and become an expert at pointing fingers, but it’s just not helpful or productive. Some nights I wanted to scream, because I felt like I didn’t even care anymore. I wanted to crawl under a rock, not rise up for justice. My baby was just murdered and nothing will reverse that, it was a sickening reality.

After some time passed however, it was hard to ignore all that God was doing. We live in a broken, sinful world and I don’t blame God, nor do I think He caused it, but I do believe he is the great Redeemer, the Healer. I’m still processing a lot, but I can recognize the beauty in the midst of pain. Jordan’s death seemed to have a ripple effect I never expected. In fact, I expected the far opposite. I remember thinking ‘nobody will ever want to foster or hear my heart after they see this story’. But to my surprise we had the biggest Orientation that same weekend after his service, and more sign-ups for Guardian ad litem and foster parents they’ve seen in a very long time. People were rising up asking what they could do and how to get involved. I’ve sobbed as I received so many letters expressing how our story has changed them and made them want to make a difference as well. I’ve been able to share the Lord with hurting people in ways I would have never guessed. There are many days I don’t want any type of platform, but I’m trying to use this moment the best I can, even if we are still in the middle of trial and hurt.

“The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it”

— John 1:5

We have been marked, this is our story now whether we want it or not. It’s been freeing for me to know God can handle all of my raw and ugly emotions. He lets me weep and have waves of righteous anger, but he doesn’t want me to stay there. Grief is a journey, but we know the Healer. He will take us by the hand and lead us forward, eyes puffy and knees shaking. I’m praying for the strength to speak truth where it is needed and be obedient to the places He is calling us to next. I know we are not done.

amber alert

I’m convinced I will never be able to hear another Amber Alert without cringing. I can remember the moment so vividly. It was Sunday morning and I was still in pajamas, sipping coffee and just looking at pictures of my friends’ new baby on Instagram. The alert popped up on my phone screen and I read it, “Jordan Belliveau B/M 2yo”. My stomach tightened as my eyes re-read the details 5 more times and I gasped louder than I meant to. I’ll never forget the way my husband came rushing over and looked at me. I couldn’t even speak, I just handed him my phone with uncontrollable tears streaming. I kept shaking my head No, this can’t be my baby. I feel like in that moment I already knew he was gone.

Sam was running late to lead worship at church and was hugging me and asking me what I wanted to do. Did I need someone to come be with me? Should he stay home? I was in a total fog. I told him I would drop off our daughter at church with friends in the nursery so I could get myself together and just be alone. I wanted to go talk to the Police officers on the case, it was the only logical thing I could think of. My mind was racing and my hands were shaking as I was trying to text out emergency prayer requests to our people and call the investigator. I couldn’t stop pacing as the reality set in. Nobody seemed to care about speaking with me or give me any kind of information. After all I’m nobody, I just raised him his entire life. I have never felt so helpless and panicked. I scoured the news, which was not hard because this story was everywhere and fast. The mother was claiming he was kidnapped and there was a big, long story but the whole thing just seemed off. I knew most, if not all of it was a lie. But that didn’t really matter, if he was still alive somewhere.

The next two days were the longest of my life. We had people praying from all over the world, that he would be found safe and sound and truth would be revealed. I couldn’t eat or sleep, the pain was too much and the unknowns were absolutely terrifying. I felt like I should be out searching with the local groups, but I think I just knew deep down that we weren’t going to find out anything remotely good. My Mother in law offered to fly out from California the following day. We took her up on it, not knowing at the time how desperately we needed that. Or maybe we did know. All I could seem to pray was “oh Jesus help” as the tears came burning down. I tried to keep myself together for other people and I tried to take hold of the hope they seemed to have for me. I knew my family needed me to be ok, but everything felt so not ok. New developments seemed to be released every couple hours and the story continued to change and grow. Everyone started to agree that it seemed the Mother had something to do with it, that her story was made up. They had dogs searching and dive teams in all the nearby waterways, I had to put my phone down before I went insane. But I knew I wouldn’t get updates unless I looked on Facebook and local news, it was the only time I questioned not having cable. Every detail hurt deeply, but I felt like I had to know. And then on the third day as we sat down for dinner, I got a call from two different friends confirming our worst nightmare. He had been found, dead. His Mother had confessed and was arrested for first-degree murder.

I will admit in those first moments the primary emotion was anger and shock. I was mad that other people knew my boy was gone before I did. It wasn’t fair. My heart didn’t want to believe it, maybe they are wrong, maybe it’s not him. Sam was in the other room with our daughter feeding her, but he knew. I didn’t want to face him, but I took a deep breath and my heart shattered as I watched him fall apart. Somehow God gave me strength in that moment to take care of business, I quickly packed a bag for our girl so that Sam could take her to stay with a friend for the night, luckily only a few minutes away. We just couldn’t lose it in front of our almost-two year old. I made Sam promise me he could drive safely and begged God to protect them as they drove away. I felt like I was going to throw up or faint. Cars of our dear friends were pulling up to my house and it hit me so hard that this was actually real. I can barely remember that next hour, it was full of tears and lament, prayers and hugs. Sam came back and we were left to grieve together, it was the deepest sorrow I have ever experienced. We knew our lives would never be the same after that night.

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book”

— Psalm 56:8 NLT

Dreams

Our last goodbye was both painful and freeing. We are adjusting to being a family of three again, almost for the first time really. It's so unnatural to go from more kids to less, typically people add children and this just felt odd! The noise and stress level have been cut to a third, which is so nice but also amplifies the loss at times. I've cried at random moments- seeing dinosaur pajamas, having a neighbor ask where my boy is, or hearing a nursery rhyme song that drove me crazy for months. It's been a mixed bag of emotions, but overall there's been a healthy detaching that needed to happen and a lot of sweetness. It has been wonderful to have one on one time with my girl and be able to bond and have fun together. Family outings are simpler, as are most things going from two toddlers to one! We wanted to take the summer to see family back home in California and just breathe and heal. My hubby turned 30 and we had out first kid-free overnight trip which was such a blast!! And we also just celebrated 6 years of marriage! (Woo-hoo!). I adore that man.

The big question of course is "so are you guys going to foster again??". I will admit when I was asked that the day after he left I felt like saying "umm, can I have a hot minute to take a breath!?" But I know everyone means well and they are just curious, which is totally fine with me. The answer was always yes, it was more of a when thing. Sam and I agreed to take a few months off to have a break and just talk and pray about what was next for us and I think that was a wise decision. Part of me could've just jumped immediately back in, because the need is SO great right now and my heart just aches for these kids, but you also have to listen to the Lord and take care of yourselves before you can pour out. And sometimes your husband is the voice of reason and that's a good thing. It's so important to keep your marriage healthy and be united in these big decisions. So with that being said, we enjoyed a slower pace and had some raw and honest conversations together and with God. I had so many little things spinning in my brain. Things like us being a military family and we may have to relocate in a year or two. Or what if I get pregnant? We really want to be, but the timing was rather humorous last go around. My sister is having my niece soon and I want to travel home and see family, how am I going to work that out? Do I even have babysitters or support for all the doctor appointments, court dates ect?? Maybe I should just focus on Eleanor and trying to have another baby biologically...people are going to think we're crazy wanting to do this again. Clearly I could quickly come up with a pretty long list of reasons why we shouldn't do it. But then I also had just as many thoughts from the other side, the big one being we feel so called to this ministry. And though it was hard and painful, it was so worth it the last time, and I know it would be worth it again. Our time in Florida may be limited and we have a chance to serve and love right here and now. (Not to mention Junie is obsessed with babies...and that may actually be an understatement.)  

I actually was praying one day before our California trip and told God, I wanted Him to make this obvious to me and give me such a strong peace if we were going to jump back in. I was feeling a little hesitant and fearful. So I asked for a dream or a sign, not to sound like I'm in charge or bargaining with God, but I had recently read that story in the Bible about Gideon. In short, Gideon wants to be 100% sure God is speaking to him about going to battle and fighting the Midianites so he puts out a fleece of wool and says "if this is really you, the fleece will have dew on it in the morning but the ground will be dry". It happened exactly that way the next day, but he goes even further for confirmation and basically says "ok, God don't be mad at me...but could you do the opposite this time and have the fleece be dry and the ground be wet??" And you know what? God did that for him! I love that story and it almost made me laugh out loud, because aren't we so like that in our humanity? We want to be so sure about everything before we go for it. God doesn't always work that way, but sometimes He allows us to ask because we are His kids and I really like that. So after my Gideon moment in prayer, what do you know but I have a dream a few nights later about foster care. I'm not a dreamer normally, I always have a hard time remembering them and I'm not even sure I do dream often. But it was there and it was vivid, and I could recount all the details and it freaked me out. Because I wasn't actually expecting to get one! And for a second I wasn't even sure I wanted God to tell me to go for it so quickly. Who is actually ready for fostering?! It's like volunteering to intentionally walk into a storm, so naturally there's some hesitation, especially if it's not your first rodeo and you have an idea of what's coming. But sure enough I had a few more dreams in the weeks following, and I had to throw my hands up in surrender. Because His plans are ALWAYS better. Scarier maybe, but better. And I know that I can trust Him deep within my soul. I think we are equally excited and terrified, and that's ok! Let the adventure begin...

“But God doesn’t call us to be comfortable. He calls us to trust Him so completely that we are unafraid to put ourselves in situations where we are in trouble if He doesn’t come through.”

— Francis Chan

bittersweet

We are now days away from our final goodbye. I feel like I'm currently in a bit of denial. If I could count the number of times I've been told he is leaving us in the past 16 months only to see it change or fall through, it would be a big number. People keep asking me how I'm doing emotionally through this journey and I feel like the answer is complicated. In a way I feel ready, the delays have only made the pain prolonged and it hasn't felt very fair to anyone to keep doing what we are doing when the judge has reached the decision. In the last month or two I've had to do some serious advocating, and push back on decisions that I knew were not in his best interest. I often felt very alone and angry, how do you fight a system that is so fundamentally broken? There were so many frustrations that occurred over a short amount of time that it had taken my eyes off of the fact that he was leaving, I felt like I didn't even have time to be sad! We were in this limbo period that seemed like it may just go on forever and I was so weary! I felt like I was giving 110% with no end in sight and I knew I couldn't keep this pace. But eventually, we got some answers and it was like a wave of relief...accompanied by some shock. He was going much quicker than we thought and the transition plan had again changed. My mind quickly wandered to different thoughts...I thought of my daughter, who has only known her "brother" and our daily routine together, how will she handle this? I realized a few of my family members never even got a chance to meet him. Is he going to think we abandoned him? Will he even remember me? How weird is it going to feel only having one child again? Should I make a memory book or send him with gifts when he leaves? How do other foster families handle this part? This is our first reunification, our first goodbye. I want to just stop all the swirling thoughts and forget what is right around the corner. I want to eat large squares of good chocolate and laugh at a funny show like The Office, sounds like good coping right? 

But here is the thing. I have an unshakable peace from God, I know He is faithful and He sees us, all of us. Overall I am thankful. Yes, I know I will be so emotional and we will all grieve in our own time. I will not sugarcoat how hard this time will be, its a huge transition. But the good really does outweigh the hard, and deep down I KNOW that. I'm reading the Reframing Foster Care book by Jason Johnson and it has me in tears daily. The parallels he draws between this ministry and the gospel is enough for me to want to be a part of this for a long time. It is so humbling! My friend said recently that often our season of wait is God's season of work. That really helped me hang on in the last few weeks. During all the waiting time, I developed a closer relationship with his mom. God restored that in a beautiful way that I would have never guessed. We text each other regularly now and send photos. We share this child during the week and it has the potential to be awkward, but instead there has been a lot of love and coming together. And I even got to hear the words my heart needed more than anything else...that she would like to stay in touch after he goes back to her! She recognized the bond we have and she actually thanked me and told me I was a wonderful mother. If that isn't answered prayer and the kindness of God I don't know what is! I have cried so many happy tears seeing her succeed and love her son. The whole thing is bittersweet and that is ok. There are things that can still cause concern and of course I don't fully know if she is ready to be a Mom, this process is messy and some days I'm so fearful! But I have to give that to the Lord. We all had to learn how to parent in the beginning and we are never done learning. If we stay humble and teachable God can work with that. I'm comforted knowing she loves him and has fought so hard to get him back. We always want children to be with their parents whenever possible! So this is a good thing, even if it may not feel good. God gives us these little glimpses into His redemptive work and we get to be His hands and feet if we are willing. We may not ever see the whole picture or get the full story until eternity, but we can know He is the one weaving it together. SO good and SO hard.

“In the end, our call in foster care is to fully love these kids while we have them and to accept the costs we may incur as worth it in light of the gain they stand to receive. We choose the pain of a potentially great loss if it means a child has received the gain of an infinitely great love. This is what Jesus has done for us...”

— Jason Johnson- Reframing Foster Care

Transition

It's been a few months now, of my head knowing something and trying to make my heart follow. Of constantly explaining our status to other people and verbalizing the good, the things I know are true, but then struggling to believe them myself. The comments of "oh I could never do that, I could never give a child back" can sting during times like this. Because I often do feel the exact same way! How can I give this boy back who I have raised for over a year? The boy that calls me "Mama" and has only really known our family. I know every tiny detail about him, what calms him down, makes him laugh...the long list of quirky things us Moms just know because we spend every waking hour with our kids and love them more than anyone else. How can I just stop this role of protector, advocator, nurturer and trust that he's going to be ok? What if I never get to see him again? How can we go from being a family of four, to not being that? Lately when I think about the future, it has a bit of a question mark. It's a strange thing to have your number of children be a fluid concept, but that's the norm of a foster family. It is ridiculously hard and emotional, no matter how strong of a person you are. 

As a foster parent you know your role is most likely temporary. And you have to keep reminding yourself that God is sovereign and knows what is best for these kids. They are HIS. I don't want to let my fear and possible heartbreak be my reason not to take part in this. It's just too important of a ministry! And the beauty outweighs the hard. I've been trying to get past the why's and just ask God what He is doing and what my role is. How can I continue to love and pour into this child while he's still in my home? What prayers or scriptures can I speak over him? How can I build relationship and show love to his biological family? Granted, those are not necessarily things I FEEL like doing, but it gives purpose to this pain and shifts the perspective for me to see God working.

Right now things feel chaotic, there are so many visits and back and forth for him and he doesn't handle it well. There isn't an end in sight just yet so it just feels like this long marathon where they keep adding an extra mile when you think you see the finish line. I'm doing a lot of the driving and let me just say two toddlers in Florida traffic is anything but fun! I'm battling my own emotions and constantly dealing with the tension of wanting his birth mom to succeed and have this beautiful redemption story of breaking the cycle and getting her boy back. But then some days selfishly wishing she would fail or make a mistake so we might get to keep him and know he's safe forever. My mind can start spinning with thoughts like "we've done all the hard work, and now she just gets to waltz in and reap the benefits!" or "we're so much more stable and he already thinks I'm his Mom, this isn't fair". And the reality is, it isn't fair. Fostering is HARD. I could sit up on a pedestal and judge his parents all day long, but it's not my place. They are his birth parents and they are broken people just like us. A friend of ours asked my husband the other day how he could specifically pray for him during this time. His response hit me hard because it was simple but so wise, he said "pray that I would stop being the judge". 

 I have a lot of interaction with his Mom these days and it started off very awkward. I would try to make small talk and she would give me one word answers. I don't really blame her, I'm sure it's intimidating to face the "other mom" who has basically raised your child. I can only imagine the feelings of resentment or inadequacy that have been harboring, where she can only see me as the enemy. But I wanted to try my hardest to show her we are both on the same team. I was getting discouraged about it and I felt God tell me to invite her to church with us on Easter. My first thought was "oh heck no!", but I finally did it, expecting a quick decline and you know what?...she said yes! I was floored, and also embarrassed about how many times I miss those promptings from the Lord because of my own pride or fear. Long story short, she didn't actually make it that day, but it was a huge turning point for us. I continued to express our love for her son and her family, and always try to emphasize that we want them to be together and we are excited for her progress. She is slowly softening towards me and we've had some really good conversations lately, which is total answered prayer! If I could see her come to know Jesus, that would be the greatest gift I could imagine. But even if I don't see that happening now, it's worth it for me to sow these seeds and let God handle the growth. 

It is such a privilege that we get to forever be a part of his journey and him ours. I may never understand certain aspects of our case, or fully agree with some of the decisions made, but I know that we worked hard to love and protect him while he was with us and be his voice whenever we could. Many days ended in tears and frustration, but God was so faithful and He didn't let us quit, even when we wanted to, and I'm so glad.

“‘Your success as a foster parent isn’t measured by your capacity to produce some certain set of outcomes, it’s determined by your willingness to be faithful along the way and to trust that in the beauty, struggle, joy and heartache of it all the journey is worth it, that Jesus is beautiful-and that so is what you’re doing for these kids”

— Jason Johnson

Court days

I have only been to court a handful of times in my foster parent journey, but it's enough for me to say I hate it. I'm hoping one day I will go there for an adoption and that will be a taste of sweet after experiencing all the bitterness. But I know even in adoption, there is loss. Hanging out at the courthouse just brings it all right in front of your face- the loss, the pain, the brokenness. I heard a saying once "hurt people, hurt people" and that immediately came to mind the first time I was there. Often in foster care there are cycles, generational sin that continues down the family line unless someone breaks that pattern. There was such a tangible sadness in so many peopIe's eyes and just an overall somber mood. I made eye contact with a young mom, her sunken body and scabbed face demonstrated her drug choice. She was yelling at a case worker and causing a scene, the first of many I witnessed that day. It's such a large, sterile building, with echoing hallways and a mixed bag of people. Normally I like people watching, but not here. Ive decided it's best to just pray while I wait my turn. Our court dates seem to be more frequent now that our foster son has been in the system over a year. I've been wondering if the 'I'm gonna puke' feeling goes away after you've been coming here long enough. 

I always tell people court tends to be surprising. You go in thinking you are up to speed and kind of know what's coming with your case, but it ends up turning a different direction and some random piece of information always seems to come out of the woodwork. It's best to go into it with zero expectations, which of course is nearly impossible as a Mama bear who is fighting for these kids without a voice. Emotions are high as they should be when you love and care for someone so deeply. The trick is keeping those emotions in check and surrendering your plans and scenarios to the Lord, who is sovereign and has a plan that may look very different than yours. Court makes you feel completely out of control! You would think the foster parents would have more of a say, or be asked for more input, but in my experience that's not the case. My husband handles these things far better than I do, I tend to bite my lip and do a lot of head shaking, sweating and heavy sighing while I listen to things unfold. 

This past hearing almost sent me over the edge. I realize I'm a newbie and I probably sound overly dramatic to the seasoned foster families who have been through all the drama time and time again, but I always want to be honest here.

 I can't share as much detail as I wish I could, but basically there had been such little progress and effort being made on the parent's part, that we were at the point of discussing terminating rights and going the adoption route instead. We had been asked a few times if it came to that, were we willing to adopt. That was not an easy decision for me, I wrestled with it for a number of reasons, but came to the conclusion that we absolutely would if his parents weren't able to get him back. The whole team seemed to be prepping for that call to be made as we entered the courtroom that day, but I quickly realized the attorneys and judge were going the opposite way. There were all these bits of information surfacing and I wasn't sure any of it was even true, but lets just say it had the whole room in shock. Adoption was off the table, and we were headed quickly toward reunifying with his Mom. I felt like I couldn't hear anything after that, I was trying to hold it together but my hot tears were streaming and I just kept looking at Sam with my mouth open like "what is happening??" Once again the roller coaster analogy is relevant! We walked out in a fog and tried to get a better idea of the madness from our Case worker, but things still made little sense. I felt angry and protective, but tried my best to be polite and just ask for some clarification. In the end she basically said anything can still happen, but this is where we are headed as of now and we have court again in a month. 

I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea, I'm aware the goal of fostering is to reunify families. I'm praying I can get to a place of being supportive and excited for her, it's just the way things unfolded and what is being considered progress is hard to swallow. I've raised this baby, he calls me Mama, and I want him to do more than survive. I don't want to feel like we are sweeping things under the rug or rushing the process because we need to close a case and make a deadline. This is his future we are talking about and I will be his voice wherever needed. I feel like it's ridiculously hard for me to come out of the mindset of 'we are adopting this child, he's going to be in our family forever' to 'oh never mind, he's leaving in a month and you don't have a say'. I felt like I was punched in the stomach. My head knew this is what fostering was like, but my heart was getting a real workout and I didn't feel ready. Deep down I knew I could get on board for whatever God had in store, I just needed some processing time. And thai food!! Our court day tradition is getting takeout and some ice cream, it just makes sense. 

I held my babies close that night and tried to pray for my own heart, to not get in the way of God's plan for them. I know the Lord is okay with my tears and confusion. This is hard stuff. Later that week I read this verse and used it as a lock screen so I remember that we serve a God who loves to bring beauty from ashes and heal and restore what is broken.

“Oh Israel, hope in the Lord! For with the Lord is steadfast love, and with Him is great power to redeem.”

— Psalm 130:7

Joy

It's officially January 1st, 2018. A new year, with a clean slate and endless possibilities. I know a lot of people tend to roll their eyes about setting goals and coming up with new year's resolutions, but I've always enjoyed the process of simply reflecting on the past year and then asking Jesus what He wants this coming one to look like. I usually try to get a word or a phrase that He might be pressing on my heart, and then come up with a few practical applications to make my life just work better. I get my husband involved and always greatly appreciate his input. Most of what he said this time had to do with time management and intentionality. Now I know everyone loves the word intentional these days, but I don't think that's a bad thing! Especially when you're raising little people (2 one year olds over here!) or you're just being pulled in a thousand different directions and have so many potential distractions to suck up your time and energy. If we don't reevaluate from time to time, we just run around feeling frazzled! So this week I'm asking for fresh faith and a renewed hope and strength. Because 2017 was rough! There was so much good in it, but it was by far my most challenging and refining season. 

When I first sat down to reflect on the year the words that were coming to mind were exhausted, insane, hard, surviving. I couldn't even remember what I did all year, it all seemed to revolve around babies. I think the majority of my time was on the floor playing, cleaning up spit up, changing poop, getting babies to nap or go back to bed, or saying "no, don't take her toy" for the billionth time. And then there was the overwhelming drama of foster care and the broken court system, and a child in our home that seemed to just bring chaos and heaviness. But then something stirred in me. I felt like God kept telling me the word for this year was joy. I decided to get out my journal and jot down a list of all the good that happened this year. And you know what the list was long and it was a quick heart change that I so needed.  It really is true that a thankful heart is the key to joy. This year we celebrated 5 years of marriage and grew to love and appreciate each other in more ways then we can count. It was our hardest year, but also the richest. We rented our first real house, signed another 4 years in the Coast Guard, traveled to California for some sweet family time, my sister in law (who I adore!) moved here to Florida to be near us, we made some precious friends, and stepped up to serve more in our church family. Not to mention, saw our foster son heal, grow and thrive, and our daughter learn to share us and welcome him in. They both turned one and learned to crawl, walk and even talk a bit. We are SO blessed.

Last year around this time I felt like my word was obedience. We were stepping out into new, scary things but trying to hold God's hand and keep putting one foot in front of the other where He was leading. I wanted to be faithful in the mundane everyday things, and that proved to be no easy task. I think overall we were faithful, but our joy was lacking and there was a little too much striving on our own strength. Too many days were spent exhausted and snappy with each other. I've been frustrated with our little guy's case, and filled with anxiety over his future. I hate how long everything takes, and all the back and forth...some days I could scream! My heart almost couldn't handle making the decision that we would adopt him, but then having no idea if or when that could even happen...everything about foster care makes you feel out of control. Court is coming up, and I feel like I'm getting bitter, like I'm going into self-preservation mode. And I don't want to live like that. I know my kids both need me now, day to day to be fully present and in love with them. They need me to teach them about Jesus and HIS love for them, and to lead by example. I know that I will not always 'feel' like being joyful, but I want to continue to ask God to fill me with his joy and not allow circumstances to dictate that. Wrapping up my prayer time that day I read a verse in Isaiah and clung to it. 

“You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace”

— Isaiah 55:12

Happy New Year friends! Thank you for all the love, encouragement and prayers for the journey. God is so faithful and I know there is so much good in store for this new year if we do not grow weary. 

awkward normal

Today I don't like foster care. My heart feels like it's on a never ending roller coaster ride- one that jostles and whips you around and has a thousand loops and no end in sight. The kind you are excited for as you wait in line and get on but then once you're at the top you're wondering if it was all a big mistake. You're clutching on to that bar and bracing yourself, you have moments of fun and laughter while you catch your breath, but then your stomach lurches again on the next turn. 

I compare fostering to roller coasters and marathons, both of which I hate, so I should probably find some new metaphors! But the fact is, I actually love being a foster mom. It's been one of my greatest joys and toughest challenges. (And we are only a year in!) The emotions have really been smacking me in the face lately though. A lot of people see the good side, the sweet social media posts and the post nap time moods. It can look easy to just rescue these kids that come from trauma and shower them with love and form that attachment. Who wouldn't love a sweet innocent baby?? On a bad day, I should probably raise my hand (Insert guilt). But it's not always about the child, it's more so the awkward new normal that foster care just is. It's the constant changing and unknown. It's the fact that court becomes a familiar place and you know way too many legal acronyms. You plan your week/month around visitation with the bio-family, home check-ins from case managers and doctor appointments. You start doing research after bedtime on how to handle trauma behaviors that you learned about in class, but didn't actually anticipate seeing first hand before you had your morning coffee. You are expected to love this child just like your own, but you are reminded almost on a daily basis that they are not. It's a strange balance and it's a lot to ask of a person. Every time an update comes I have to get my head around the "new plan", sometimes it sounds like he will be here forever, other times they act like he could leave tomorrow. There is always a  relative popping out of the woodwork that he may be placed with. In the beginning I was hoping for that relative, I wanted to see some sort of finish line because this was so much harder than I thought. I needed a countdown to endure the craziness. But then you attach and build memories together and your mind goes towards the possibilities of being a forever family. There are days I think I just have to adopt this child, and there are also days the thought of adoption absolutely terrifies me. It's hard teetering back and forth on that line. But I know that's what fostering is. It's the radical risk-taking love that promises to give and maybe never receive. It's what we hear on Sunday mornings but is so against our flesh.

It's revealing parts of me that are ugly, and sometimes I want to blame the ugliness on "foster care". Or just the fact that I have two babies, just seems like a good excuse most days. I was never this erratic before right guys?! God will use any trial to refine us and bring all the yucky stuff to the surface so He can find the gold, its painfully good. 

My friend text me this verse at just the right moment, and it's been on my heart ever since.

We have a lot of big court dates and meetings approaching us and I'm frustrated and confused. The waiting is hard. I would absolutely love your prayers dear friends, I can't share all the details but it can feel like a lose-lose situation sometimes. My heart truly breaks for his Mom, the thought of her rights being terminated forever if she can't make progress on her case plan. But there sure are days I feel like it's what's best for him and my Mama bear side kicks in fiercely and says "he's MINE, I've raised him and kept him safe!" I don't feel like being the bigger person and continually reaching out, its exhausting. It would be SO much easier to pretend his parents weren't around. But that's not the reality and my husband has graciously reminded me that we've had a strong conviction since the beginning to love them through the mess. It can be truly awful having a front row seat to someone else's journey through pain and brokenness...it hits way too close to home having their child as you watch! Nothing can prepare you for those emotions, and it is SO hard to explain to your friends or family who may have more of a detached view. It's easier to judge and just write these parents off. Praying this week I was reminded that it's not a losing battle, though it may feel like one. We serve a God of redemption and making beauty from ashes. We see the mess and the chaos, and we have a thousand questions, but He is always working behind the scenes! I want to be able to trust that His plans are good, for all parties involved. This year of pouring out my heart and soul is not a waste, no matter which way the case goes, no matter how I "feel" (which may be pretty crappy some days). God calls us to love and serve people and He sees it differently than the world does. It's in the choosing and in the hard, the loving on purpose and with intention. I honestly don't know how to love like that, but I'm going to keep grabbing the Lord's hand and taking the next step forward.

“Those who sow in tears will reap with shouts of joy. Though one goes along weeping, carrying the bag of seed, he will surely come back with shouts of joy, carrying his sheaves.”

— Psalm 126:5