My daughter started her foster care journey exactly two years ago. For her first month she did respite care for a family of foster kids whose foster home had gotten damaged in a tornado. It was a great practice run with adorable kids. The night before their foster mom's home was ready for them to return my daughter got another call.
Three little kids, ages 7 thru barely 3 were in need of a home for a few months. They had been in more than one foster care home. And there were behaviors, they warned.
And we wondered what kind of behavior problems we adults might have if we had been removed and moved as many times as they had in a year.
Something to think about.
In the last two years my heart has broken and grieved. It has hoped and despaired. It has soared with feelings I just can't even put into words.
Last Thursday, after 914 days in the foster care system, they were adopted into our family.
I am so blessed.
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.