Puzzles Are Hard.
Moments in life, whether good or bad, are like little puzzle pieces – taken from a giant puzzle that takes us our entire lives to fully complete. Some days, the task at hand can seem mundane. The pieces are all pretty plain & similar, nothing too outlandish, like putting together the clouds on a puzzle that displays a man sitting on the bench in his beautifully landscaped garden. You want to start working on the good stuff – the bench, the stripes in his shirt, or his crooked grin. Other days, you get to work on the good pieces – the pieces that allow you access to other pieces. The bench & stripe, & grin pieces that invoke a connectedness to the puzzle. Then there are the pieces that are lost – no matter how hard you look, the piece just isn’t there. Or maybe there is one infuriating piece that doesn’t seem to fit into your puzzle – the kind that must be from a different puzzle.
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Some days in the foster care world seem normal - just like any day before it. Other days are filled with paperwork & new faces & anxiousness & excitement. Then there are days like today. Days that feel like I just stumbled off of the largest emotional rollercoaster...the rackety, wooden kind that requires many doses of Advil & IcyHot for the next several days. Today was the very first Sunday at our new church, The Vine, where Pedro has accepted the Student Pastor position. I can't quite put into words how thrilled we are for this season of change after being there today. The community is absolute gold & the church is passionate about Jesus & our new kids (church kids) are total rockstars (although we deeply miss our Canvas kids). Those pieces of today were amazing & brought much excitement our way. But there were also pieces of today that put me in positions of tearful uncertainty. Let me explain.
At The Vine, the student program is on Sunday evenings so there we were today, our two foster kiddos in arms. If you're confused on that number, we still have little girl L & currently are respite for a 2-year-old boy, R, for about a week and a half until his new family gets approved by the state. We were praising Him from whom all blessings flow because R took a two hour nap & even danced in one spot to the worship set. This, my friends, was a win. You see, wild man R is a 2-year-old wearing 4T clothing & is full speed - all the time. He has the sweetest giggle that makes you want to thank him for letting you experience it. However, he also thinks it's funny when he runs from you or if you try to redirect a particular behavior that isn't pleasant. So, a 2 hour breather from the already long day was a real treat.
Well, about the last hour of the evening was when things started to get crazy. The whole day was a bit of a blur - I had chased & played & redirected behavior since he woke up at 7:30 this morning, but it was all doable. Now, I was under attack. Not in a malicious way, but in a "not being able to fully understand how to let out what I'm feeling way." Running away, hitting my face, pulling my hair, & biting ensued. On Saturday, we actually were required to go to a training on crisis prevention intervention where we learned & practiced many things - one being how to force a strong gripped child to let go of hair they might be latching onto. We thought it was goofy yesterday. Little did I know that I'd be utilizing said training so quickly, ha! This kept on for what seemed like five-ever & I wasn't sure how else to communicate to him that those actions aren't okay. Our new community was witnessing all of this as well which makes situations & emotions feel heightened because I'm naturally wanting to make a good first impression. At that point, it felt like the opposite which made me feel defeated & fearful & anxious. I know now that's not accurate, especially after reflecting on today's message from our new friend & pastor, David. "If it's coming from a place of fear; then it is not of God." However, in the heat of the moments it can be harder to decipher & separate truth from lies. I finally decided that I couldn't keep redirecting without completely going rouge into an ugly-cry. And we don't want to scare our new friends, do we? The answer is no.
So, R & I went to the truck & got buckled in until Dad & L we're ready to leave a few minutes later. I sat there silently, questioning myself. What was I doing wrong? Was I not explaining well? Was I not consistent enough? Do our new friends think I'm a terrible mom? Do they know that I'm on the verge of a breakdown? What have I gotten us into? Am I even the slightest bit prepared to care for these kids well? These questions swarmed & the uncertainty seemed to escalate. The thing is: the enemy grabs hold of those moments, those pieces & magnifies them so that the only piece you can see is the one you're working on. He makes it difficult to locate the other pieces that fit together & start to help the entire puzzle make more sense. How frustrating is it when you're not sure if the correct piece is even there? It kind of makes you want to give up. It's important to remind ourselves constantly that we rarely have the box to look at & use as a guide. However, Jesus does. He created the box & the puzzle inside, every tiny, minute piece. Although we may not see the finished puzzle, we can rest in confidence that the piece that was so infuriating at the time was a necessary part to the completion of the puzzle. The final product wouldn't make sense without it.
Today was the first time in our very fresh journey of foster parenting where I felt like maybe I couldn't do it. Maybe I bit off more than I can chew. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there are people better suited for this calling. Yet, I was quickly reminded that while yes, many others would rock at it, my name is also on that list – not because of any ability of my own, but because Jesus is leading the way. Whether I go to bed feeling like I crushed today or today crushed me, I can rest in confidence that God is standing beside me, watching me try to figure out my puzzle & giving me hints along the way. God will remain faithful & because of his kindness, I will remain faithful by continuing to say yes.
Foster care is hard & simple & exhausting & beautiful simultaneously. The lows are low. They don't feel good & they make you uncertain. But the highs are higher. The highs always outweigh the lows. I will gladly take putting into action my hair grab release technique any day because I know there is a child on the other end waiting for someone to tell them that they are loved & known, even when they try to pull hair out. And because I just might get to snuggle up to read a book together & sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star before bedtime like I did tonight.
-C
// and I’ll chase Your voice through the dark / fix my eyes on the unexpected in the wonder of Your shadow step / so take another step // Hillsong United.