Our lives are no longer quiet. We are no longer neatly kept. Laundry spills over baskets. Small amounts of cat hair can no longer merit a full sweep. Dishes pile in the sink because the dishwasher is already occupied. Most mornings, hair is thrown into a messy pony tail and make-up is applied in the rearview mirror, but let's be honest... I have never spent much time on exterior maintenance. Thankfully, my husband is not vain.
My 'free' hours used to be from 4:00PM to 7:30AM. I no longer possess time, yet I am constantly trying to find more of it.
My husband and I used to govern our time with last minute dining decisions and spontaneous road trips. Spontaneity and wanderlust now entail hours of forethought... Where are the restrooms? Snacks... do we have snacks? Should we pack extra shoes? Parking? Will we be home in time for read-aloud and bath time?
Dawn to dusk and back again. Experienced parents know this, but I am a novice... even compared to my husband. He slipped into the dad role so effortlessly. Balancing motherhood with teaching and being a wife...I am constantly failing in at least one area.
Details cannot afford to be missed. With our foster agency, we are bound to other players in this parenting game. Home visits occur every other Monday. The CASA worker visits Saturday mornings. Therapy occurs every other Thursday. The Guardian ad Litem visits each month, as does the DSS worker. Our lives are a railway platform of strangers- entering and exiting. They are required to know us, yet they reveal very little of their own lives.
We are trapped in the vulnerability of our own world... constantly questioning our decisions as others cast mirrors instead of windows.
I once heard that you discover God, when you reach the end of yourself. I am learning that there is a LOT of 'me,' and I am weary of looking at my own reflection.
People comment that we are "noble" for choosing this path, but their praise is unmerited. I fail and question the destination of this journey daily.
Some days, love is a choice, and lately, it has not been an easy choice to make.
I try to 'put on love' like a pair of unwanted but necessary pantyhose, but many days, the result is itchy, uncomfortable, and too tight. I count down the minutes until I can remove the second skin.
We invited brokenness to take up residence within our own brokenness, and somehow expected a beautiful outcome. We are not 'noble;' we are closer to the definition of insanity.
I know Jesus did it, but sometimes the perfect example he set for us in adoption is offensive. No one can sacrifice that much without being admitted. I have been hurt and emotionally spent in this process.. I remind myself that certain challenges were expected, but the perfectionist in me wonders, isn't there another way, Jesus? Couldn't this be prevented?
I long for Eden... love before sin... before love became a choice.
Abba, how do you love someone who cannot reciprocate your affection appropriately? How do you love someone who demands so much time.. attention.. personal sacrifice? How do you love someone who is unpredictable and angry? How do you undo 7 years of pain, neglect, and rejection?
Abba, how much longer before I reach the end of me and find you?
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