Knowing is half the battle

A big part of my spiritual frustration in the last couple of years has been the inability to figure out where to go for my next child or children. Why no answers? Why no guidance for a righteous desire? Why silence and confusion? Was something wrong with me? How long could I hold on like that?

I think I can officially say that's over now.

My dear dear crazy B put this idea in my head last spring about taking a leap. Stepping out over a chasm, or into the dark cave or whatever kind of metaphor you want to put on it. Taking a risk and seeing how it works out. Trusting God to make things work or at least to let you know if it's wrong before you break your leg.

So I stepped out over African adoption because it's been a dream. I worked on it. By sewing tutus, if you will remember. Things didn't go gangbusters. We could still do it. I'm not saying never. But I haven't felt that this is it kind of feeling. No validation.

Today we had our meeting with the licensing worker for foster parents in our county. And this is it. This is what we are doing and I know it is the right way.

Out in the parking lot after our 3 hours with the social worker, G and I started talking about the potential scary aspects of this -- mostly drug-exposed kids and all the uncertainty and trouble that can come with them.

And I realized, I probably already have experience with this. I don't know what was in the past of my oldest boy. I would not be the least bit surprised if I were to learn at this point that he was indeed exposed to something other than nicotine. I don't know what. But his issues make it pretty clear that there was something that was not disclosed.

He is doing awesome now. I am so tremendously proud of him. He is brilliant in school, he is working so hard to control his temper and his attention, and he is full, full of love and affection. We went through some incredibly hard years with this kid. Miserably hard. To the point where I sat and held him and cried and wondered if I could even keep parenting him -- if I had the strength to do it, if I was really ever meant to be his mom. How is that for a true confession?

I would do it all again for him. I love him so completely and he gives me so much joy and delight that I would traverse that chasm again without a second's hesitation. And that is what we are doing, in effect. I know that now.

What a tremendous relief to know. I haven't been so excited in such a long time! Just to know that there is a path! Last time I felt this good I think I was calling the reproductive endocrinologist to tell him we were not coming for our next appointment, or ever ever again. Yeah.

Next up: health screenings, first aid classes, FBI background checks, and a home study. Then all we have to do is enroll for foster parent classes, and we can take a placement. You read that right. Even before completion we can get started.

IKEA, here I come. I need some more kid furniture. Woohoo!