Tag: encouragement

fostering His will

Back in 2006 when we first became foster parents, I was not really sure what to think about what we had just thrown ourselves into.  My husband and I understood the legalities and processes of being foster care parents, but of course, were not as prepared for the emotional and spiritual aspect of it.  I respected and followed the laws regarding reunification, but to be honest, deep down I knew that fostering children would help to fill the hole in my life that had existed due to being barren.

In some respects, it seemed that fostering was a noble cause, while on the other, it also felt like it was more about my needs.  In the end, we hoped to adopt but understood completely that there was no guarantee at all of this.

The same day we were licensed, we received our first placement of a precious little two-day-old baby boy.  We were ecstatic, excited, and nervous at the same time. The few first days with him were just a whirlwind of no sleep, visiting relatives, learning, and joy.  My body was so tired, but my mind was already set on imagining what was to come.  To be honest, I fell in love with him the minute I saw him.

On the Monday following the placement of this sweet little one in our home, the case worker called to establish visits, set up meetings, and to let me know they (the state) were looking into finding relatives.  This conversation was sobering and brought me back to the reality of being a foster care parent.  I was just someone to nourish this child while his birth parents gathered their lives back together.

As I was talking to her on the phone, this innocent little one was quietly sleeping in his crib.  He had no idea of the gravity of the conversation taking place.  His little life and the decisions being made for him were in the hands of the juvenile justice system.  As soon as the phone call ended, I dropped to the floor in front of his crib and immediately began sobbing.

In that moment of complete vulnerability, I started praying “Oh God, Your will not mine, Your will not mine, but if it is Your will for him to stay, Father, then show me the way Lord.  Help me through this.”  I held my hands up to Him as if I was holding this baby up to the Lord.

On my knees with my hands held up high facing this child that I was already passionately in love with was the most remarkable, yet heartbreaking moment of the beginning of my foster care journey.  In that moment, the Lord said to me “Caroline, this is not about you.  This is not about you.”

This was an “aha” moment, or more like an Amen moment.  Fostering this child really was not about me.  I thought going into it that I would be offering a “service” while getting my fill of mommy-moments, and that it would all just be okay.  Looking back, I believe that the Lord was proving Himself by refining me to be a person of less selfish desires and more humility.  This was about this child and his birth parents.  It was about the Lord’s will, not mine.

There were times throughout fostering him that I wondered and fretted over what the future held.  Again though, the Lord reminded me that I just had to act in love.  I had to wake up every day with the intention of being a loving foster parent to this child and of showing mercy to his birth mother.  One foot in front of the other…one day at a time.

Strange as it may sound, fostering a child with whom you would give your life for is like trying to swim in mud.  The more you try, the more energy you exert, and the more love you give, the thicker the mud seems to get.  Fostering this little one was also one of the most enriching experiences of my life.

Daily, the Lord gently reminded me that this journey was not about me, but about His will and His intentions over this child.  He also provided me with moments to walk humbly and act mercifully.  The Lord implored me to show love and to increase my prayer life.

Through prayer I found submission and trust; not just trust of a few of the details, but trusting God with complete wholeness.  His plan for our lives outweighed our intentions and was more powerful than anyone else’s.  My daily prayers for this baby boy included praying steadfastly for the Lord’s will.  They also included asking the Lord to help me put my desires behind and that He would bring clarity and intervention as fitting and according to His plan.

As the case moved along, I found myself more and more in love with the sweet one, but I also found myself caring deeply for his birth mother.  Some people said to me “I don’t know how you do it.”  I know how.  My faith became stronger, my leaning on His wisdom became more pure, and I met the Lord through His continual guidance that the only way to walk this path was with love.

When the case was over, almost two years later, we adopted our sweet boy.  I am so incredibly grateful and keenly aware of this tremendous blessing.  I am even more thankful though that I had to fall on my knees with hands held high, with tears streaming down my cheek, and with a heart of submission declaring “Oh God, Your will, not mine”.

One Lovely Blog Award

I got a message earlier this week from Arlene at Armoured Up that she nominated me for the One Lovely Blog Award!  Please head over to her blog and check it out.  You will not be disappointed.  Arlene’s blog covers a variety of topics about everyday life.  Through all of it she glorifies God in a thought-provoking and encouraging way.  Thank you Arlene for this nomination!

There is no award money or golden statue.  I don’t get to make a speech in front of others.  There is not an acknowledgement on any news outlets.  Instead, these blogging “awards” are a way for fellow bloggers to give each other a pat on the back and to highlight works that are inspiring, creative, and encouraging.

For this nomination, I have to let you know seven things about myself.  I have found this to be a little difficult even though I can write about infertility and other rather personal matters.  So here I go…..

1)  I have several unfinished stories for children and adults saved on my computer.  I visit the characters about once every five months or so.  I am most definitely a neglectful mother to these fictional beings!

2)  I absolutely believe that I had an encounter with an angel following the death of  close relative in 1996. This occurred before I was fully engaged in my faith life.  I plan to write about this experience soon.

3)  Sometimes I sneak candy into my house and hide it from my children.  I eat after it they go to bed or when they are not looking.  I have only been caught with a mouthful of chocolate a couple of times by my five-year-old, but I know he is on to me.

4)  I just got a cell phone three years ago, and set up my Facebook page last year….seriously.

5)  I find it incredible that the words I write on my laptop here in the Ozarks are being read by people in Singapore, Australia, Germany, United Kingdom, and various other countries.

6)  I really like ketchup on my spaghetti and mustard on my roast and potatoes. I know that is a random thought, sorry.

7)  I hope my focus on wanting to write for His glory never becomes bigger than my desire to live for His glory.

Here are fifteen blogs I have selected for this award.  I enjoy reading these blogs because each of them give me “food for thought” and I find them to be unique, creative, honest, and engaging.  Go over and check them out.

overflow

Rod Arters Blog

Ebs and Flows

a tale of puddin, tigger, & the blessing

butmostlymommy

Blurbs of Grace

SunshineLittleOne

Unashamed Growth

Settled In Heaven

master of life in earth, sky, and sea

Integrity Dad

I am. Because of You.

Being Someone’s Mum

Why Don’t You Adopt

the muse is working

Thanks again to Arlene for this nomination.  I appreciate everyone for reading my blog.  God Bless!

daughter of mine, Child of His

daughter of mine, Child of His

Life as a girl can be difficult sometimes. The mirror reflects what you see but not what the world expects you to be. My hope for you is that you will only see how your Heavenly Father views you. Your blue eyes were made just for you. He designed you from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair. That ever-so-slight dimple in your chin was carefully placed exactly where He wanted it to be.

daughter of mine, Child of His. You are beautiful.

There may be times in your life when you may not recognize who He created you to be. You may not always hear Him calling for you, or answering your prayers. Sometimes, you may feel as though you are trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, but you are not. Your Heavenly Father will always be calling for His child. He will always listen intently and mercifully to your pleadings.  He is carrying both you and the world in His hands.

I want you to get dirty, jump in puddles, grow flowers, dance until your feet hurt, sing at the top of your lungs, have childhood crushes, laugh yourself silly, and dress in a way that shows your creativity and personality. I want you to say no and mean it. I hope you never believe that you are not good enough for anything less than happy, loving relationships.

daughter of mine, Child of His.  You are good.

I hope your friendships have depth, your love has width, and your aspirations have height. I pray your faith will be a well of peace and solitude. Be who you are, not who others wish you would be. Find what makes you happy and run with it. Let your passions become your joy. May you wander the world, but never forget where home is.

The Lord gifted me with you and all the things that make up who you are. You are delightfully stubborn, sensitively sweet, and tomboyish tough all at the same time. I want you to never be afraid of showing your colors to the world.

daughter of mine, Child of His. You are colorful.

Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award

I just found out that I got the Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award!  A fellow blogger, Charity, nominated me for this award.  Her blog Blurbs of Grace is one that I routinely read and get inspired by.  The name is perfect.  The posts may be short and sweet but are mighty in their reflection of the Lord’s wisdom and love in our lives.  Her other blog What Matters Most is about her life as a mother of five children and her call to minister to people in daily life and through her writing.  Her testimony is just awesome.  Thank you Charity for this nomination and for glorifying His works!

Now, as part of this nomination, I have to reveal 7 things about myself and then nominate 7 other bloggers who I find inspiring.

A little bit about me:

1.  Sometimes, I get overwhelmed (in a good way) by the fact that I am blogging about my medical history and infertility.  It used to be that I barely spoke of it.  God has blessed me so much with His revelation of love in my life and His purpose.

2.  I am delightfully reminded of His presence in what may seem as the most insignificant of events.  I hear a song, word, or take part in a conversation and then I get inspired to write a post about it. The Lord pricks my ears and speaks to my heart the topics He wants me to write about.

3.  I just starting writing my thoughts about infertility a few years ago.  I felt the Lord telling me to write “my story” down.  Before I knew it, I had written a complete manuscript of my life story and testimony.  I am still not sure what He wants me to do with it, but am prayerful about His will for it.

4.  Despite what I might see on a daily basis while working in child welfare, I still believe that there is goodness in people, that people want to learn, that people want to change, and that we need each other.  I know the Lord wants us to love each other, to lead each other, and to forgive each other. 

5.  I am not an expert in infertility, but by His grace in my life, I have been able to glean many lessons that I hope will encourage others.

6.  Road cycling is another one of my past-times.  It is during long rides that I am able to pray with intention for the Lord’s wisdom.  I have found that many lessons have been learned on my bike.  (I am sure there will be a blog post soon about this!)

7.  Following my very first blog post Hello Word! I was up until around 3:00 in the morning fretting over what I had just done.  I felt so exposed and vulnerable.  I had been feeling for a while that the Lord wanted me to write more, but had not prepared myself for the anxiety following my pushing of the Publish button.  The feedback and encouragement from other bloggers and persons who read it helped so much to ease my anxiety.  The Lord continues to lead me on in this journey and I am incredibly humbled by it.  Thank you to everyone who has visited my site and for your feedback.

I have found these 7 blogs to be wonderful, inspiring, creative, thought-provoking, honest, and glorifying to God.  These nominations are just a handful of the many blogs I find comforting, entertaining, and simply awesome. 

Keep in mind that this award is for fellow women bloggers.  There are many fantastic blogs written by brothers in Christ on their own journeys that I find equally encouraging!

…and…here they are:

1.  The Faithful Adoptee

2.  My Journal of Praise

3.  Transformed By The Journey

4.  Faithful Nibbles  

5.   DK Ray – Jesus, Mochas, and Writing

6.  Jeweled Gems

7.  Life’s Little Slices

Charity passed along this prayer that was passed to her following her nomination.  I just felt compelled to keep it going – “Praying God’s continued blessings in your lives; His peace, His power, His strength and protection and that all of your needs be met…spiritual, physical, relational and financial.”

Thank you again Charity for the nomination and to all of you who read my blog. 

I’ll end this post with a verse that has brought me great comfort during the desolation of infertility and, even better, for the unfathomable hope we have in Him.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” – Jeremiah 29:11

Blessings to all!

Where is your treasure?

(photograph by Sarah Carter – http://www.sarahcarterphoto.com)

A friend recently told me that when she and her husband started telling people they are taking foster parent classes, they were met with responses that were both surprising and disheartening.  People have said things like “why don’t you just have your own baby?”, or “why would you do that?”  Unfortunately, the majority of these statements have come from fellow believers in Christ.

It seems this appears to be quite common even in the Christian community, or at least perhaps in our area of the country.  Thankfully, my husband and I did not deal with this as much because people knew we were infertile and that we wanted the opportunity to be parents and hopefully adopt.  But, my friend and her husband have biological children, and could have more if they chose to.  They have felt called for a while now by the Lord to minister to little ones through foster care.

After our conversation, my heart was a little unsettled.  The Lord kept saying to me “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also”-Luke 12:34.  After pondering on this, the thought entered my mind that while we are truly blessed in America, where is our heart?  In my opinion, it seems that it is in worldly things.  We treasure our actors and celebrities. We lift them up on pedestals and award them.  Yet, do they reflect our hearts?

We fight so hard with each other over our political opinions and opponents.  Our different views in policies and our abilities to express them are an integral part of our freedoms, but do they really reflect where our hearts should be?  We strive for big cars, bigger houses, and small waistlines, but still, are these the things that we treasure?

It would be a lie to say that I don’t enjoy going to movies, voting, or admiring nice cars or homes.  It would also be not truthful if I never worried about what the scale said.  But, I hope these things never reflect where my treasures really are.

It breaks my heart that in this country of opportunity where fellow Christians can walk freely without persecution, we overlook what is truly important.  The Lord has called us to minister to ALL people.  This includes the politicians we don’t agree with.  This includes the actors or actresses that we may find “weird”.  This especially includes children who have fallen into the foster care system.

I have worked in child welfare for eleven years now and have seen so many horrible and vile acts against children.  I have witnessed foster families get their hearts broken time and time again.  I have watched birth parents lose their battles with addictions, and ultimately lose their children.  Sadly, I have seen social workers become hardened to their hopes that they can change the world.

I still believe that one person can make a huge difference in the lives of children.  I choose to believe that people can change, but they need willing participants to walk along them in their battles.  Sometimes, it seems that we want children to grow up in safe homes, or want adults to change, but fail to recognize our responsibilities in these things.

We might say “I believe in Christ and love Him mightily”; yet, we turn our backs on the things that take us out of our comfortable “God bubble”.  Christ surely was taken out of His comfort zone.  He could have decided not to follow His Father’s calling.  He could have walked away, but He chose not to.

If we want the staggering statistics of abuse and neglect of children to end, we too must not walk away.  Foster care and being involved in child welfare issues will certainly take us out of our comfort zones.  It will definitely break our hearts at times.  However, our involvement in children’s lives and doing what God has called us to do is a reflection of where our treasure should be.

I saw a poster one time that said this “You have never looked into the eyes of anyone who does not matter to God”.  I have decided to recite this to myself daily as a reminder of the incredible responsibility and calling as a Christian to love people, especially those that can be overlooked by society.  My hope is that my treasure and my heart will always be focused on the One who is worth treasuring, and on the children He desperately loves.

He Chose Love

My husband and I are celebrating our anniversary this weekend, and I am so thankful for him. We have been married for eleven years. As an adolescent and young adult, I once believed that marriage is something I would never get to have due to my barrenness. I am very lucky to have found someone who has accepted everything about me; the good, the bad, and the infertility.

I do not know what it would be like to be married to someone who is infertile. My husband does though. He knew before we were married that if he decided to take this ride of life with me then he would never have biological children. He has assured me that it did not matter to him when we were first got engaged and it does not matter to him now.

He has had to learn by nature of experience and witness that infertility is not just about babies, or actually NOT having babies. It is an emotional and spiritual challenge as well. He has spent an equal amount of time assuring me that I am just as much female than I have spent doubting myself or comparing myself to others. He has also been silent about the topic when I needed him to be.

He never wanted to fix my situation. He and I know he could not do that anyway. Instead, he wanted to understand it and allow whatever was meant to happen in our lives to happen. My husband has seen my grief. He has heard my cries and watched as I have wiped away tears. Still yet, he never once made me feel as though he has regretted our marriage, or the fact that he would never have a biological child.

Instead, he has embraced my barrenness while holding on to me. Trust me; there has been a lot of baggage left over from the years of strife. Even now as adoptive parents, we know we face issues that our friends who have biological children do not deal with. Yet again, there he is just going along with the flow. He chose this.

I have typically thought that infertility, foster care, and adoption were written for MY life. However, my life experiences have helped shape my husband’s journey. God wrote this for his life just as much as He did for mine. I have often said that when I lay sickly in the hospital as a child God knew the plans He had for me. The whole truth though is that the Lord also knew the plans He had for my husband.

This story is not just mine. It is his as well. Fatherhood is special to him and I am thankful that adoption has given him the chance to be a daddy. My husband’s Heavenly Father has greatly enriched his life, filled in the gaps, and placed him exactly where he needs to be in order to be the best dad he can. He has also blessed my husband with a genuine sense of empathy and compassion for others.

My husband was a fantastic foster dad. He attended meetings when he could, went to court hearings, supported case workers, and loved on the children. He got up in the middle of the night to feed them when they were newborns. He changed diapers, prepared bottles, and played with them before tucking them in at night.

I know fostering was hard on him as it was on me, but I also believe that his desire to be a dad was strong enough to keep him going through all of the ups and downs that fostering brings. There were many times when he would tear up at the thought of losing the children – although, we both knew going into it that the goal was reunification. He approached it all with an open heart and mind.

My husband was so compassionate to my son’s birth mother. He embraced her. He engaged her in supportive conversations, and never once made her feel less than human. This, of course, is one the many things that I found to be so wonderful about him. My son’s birth mother told me one time that she was so glad he was an involved dad because she wanted her son to have a daddy who would do things with him.  It was just awesome to witness him ministering in his own way to her. It reminded me over and over how truly blessed I am, and how blessed our children are.

When my husband chose to ask for my hand in marriage, he knowingly walked into it with the realization that our lives would be different from most people that we know. He truly did not know if he would ever be a dad.  He chose love over infertility, and I am so grateful that he did.  I am also grateful for the Lord choosing my husband for me.

Fearfully & Wonderfully Made

It is hard being a kid these days.  Their actions are usually fairly age appropriate, and yet, they are told to work on their “behaviors” on a pretty consistent basis.  I really do not recall as a child being reminded to “make good choices” or being told “you need to work on that behavior”.  I was disciplined and taught the correct way to interact with others, but it was done from the perspective that children will be children.  My actions as a child were not taken so seriously and certainly were not thought to be truly indicative of the adult I would end up becoming.

My son is precious, but boy he is a pistol!  High energy, fearless, creative, smart, and strong-willed are a few of the words that define him.  Let’s just say he has had his fair share of “behavior management” in preschool.  I often wonder how his perception of himself has been shaped by the continual reminders in the preschool setting to make good choices, earn rewards, “stay in the green pocket”, or any other motivational system put into place to keep kids in line.  I’m NOT saying that I disagree with these things as I know they have their place in helping children.  I just feel we expect children to be little adults far too often.  My son told me one time that he gets stressed out about school…seriously.  He’s not even in Kindergarten yet and has already felt stressed by the expectations of the academic setting.

Back in 2010 when he was close to four years old, we were painting together at the table.  He had been having a difficult time socially, didn’t mesh with the teacher, and was actually asked to leave the preschool.  In an effort to comfort him, I said “You know mommy loves you very much.” He said, “I know”.  Then it hit me.  I told my kids all the time how much I loved them, but far too often I failed to tell them why I loved them and what makes them unique.

In that moment, I grabbed the paintbrush, piece of construction paper, and started to paint a flag for him.  When he asked me what it was, I said “It is your flag.”  He giggled as he was not really sure what to make of it.  After I was done, I explained the meaning of it to him.  The blue represented his favorite color.  The middle letter in the flag is the first letter of his first name.  Above his name is a pink stick figure which represented the fact that he is a good big brother to his little sister.  The cross in the corner was because he loves going to church and singing about Jesus.  The orange dog symbolized how much he cares for our pets.  The bike below the dog was there because he loves riding his big wheel and really anything that has wheels.

The music note was for his love of singing and enjoying music.  The happy face was because he makes so many people smile and laugh.  The star represented the fact that he loves outer space.  And, the heart, well, it was not only because of how much he loves his family, but because of how much love he has brought to our home and to our hearts.

After explaining this, my curly, blonde-haired cutie could not stop grinning from ear to ear.  He grabbed it, ran to his daddy, and said “Daddy!  Look at my flag!”.  I know I am not the best artist and the flag is quite elementary, but it did so much in that moment to lift the spirits of my child and show him the reasons why he is loved so much.  Afterward, we went to his bedroom and hung the flag on his bulletin board.

Two years later, the flag is still there.  It still serves as a reminder to him of the unique factors that make him who he is.  I am not a perfect parent and I certainly fall short many times on having the best words at the right moment with my kids.  But, there are those times when the right opportunities come along to make an impression on my kids that will not be about their “behaviors” but, more importantly, about their beings.

That simplistic paper flag that is tacked to my son’s bulletin board holds a deeper meaning than it appears.  It reminds my son of the time his mommy painted his flag.  But, most importantly, it serves as a visual reminder for me to show through my words and my actions that they are fearfully and wonderfully made.

“I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” – Psalm 139:14

Words of My Heart

Wow.  I can’t believe that I started this blog one month ago.  I also can’t believe I waited so long to start blogging.  This month has been a phenomenal time of discovery, writing, thinking, writing, praying, writing, connecting, and of course writing.  Throughout this month I have been able to share a bit of my journey here on Earth, as well as, learn about others.  I sort of think of myself now as part of a community of women and families who have been challenged by infertility and/or ones who are in the process of stepping outside of themselves so that they can be families for foster children.

I have found myself wondering if my experience growing up would have been totally different had I been given the opportunity to share my feelings about infertility with others who could relate.  Just knowing that there were others out there experiencing a small portion of what I was dealing with would have made a huge impact in my life.  Of course, I was a young girl so the level of relatability would have been different from adults going through it.  I don’t know for sure if I would have taken the opportunity due to being an adolescent, but still, I really wished there would have been blogs around, or the Internet for that matter.

I kept my “story” inside my heart and mind for the past 29 years since my hysterectomy.  I really did not speak the words of my heart very often.  Sure, I have shared parts with close friends, family, and my husband.  I have even been asked to give my testimony to various groups, but, writing pieces of it out has brought life to my thoughts kept buried for so many years.  It has also given me a sense of gratitude for where I am now.

I read other women’s blogs about their struggles and what they are currently going through with trying to have a family.  They are discovering the road to becoming parents has taken sharp turns or completely come to a dead end.  I hear their pain in their words.  I feel it in my heart.  I wish I could assure them that some aspects of infertility may affect them for the rest of their lives, but it does not make up their whole lives.

I had to learn growing up that there was more to me than not having children, and there was more to being a woman than having children.  My children do not define me.  Pregnancy would not make me anymore female.  This was a battle I struggled with for so long that my heart aches for women going through it.  Infertility, although it has felt like it at times, is not my whole life.

I won’t lie.  I’m so thankful for my pain of barrenness being something in the past.  I’m incredibly blessed to be at this place of peace and contentment.  Yet, I never want to forget the molding, sharpening, and refining that my experience has done for me.  I remember what it was like to walk around wondering if I would ever feel normal.  There were times I felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders or that I had to figure out what I was going to do about what happened to me.  I found though that the more I tried to figure it all out, the worse I felt about my circumstance.

I could not control what happened.  I could not even control what was going to happen in the future.  I could choose to grasp onto the hope that something good was bound to come from all of this.  I also began to realize that I needed to rely more on my faith in a loving Heavenly Father than the persuasions and suggestions of the world.  No one could ever really tell me how to manage it even if they tried.  So, I kept it all in.  I spoke very little of it.

Realizing that I am exactly who God created me to be is the most profound feeling of love and contentment.  I think back when I was a young girl who had been dealt a very difficult hand in life, and am amazed now at the sense of purpose I have found in it.  I am not an expert in the entire experience of infertility, but I am an expert in my own.  All of us going through the heartache of trying to have a family to call our own have varying stories of loss, hope, despair, and joy that intertwine through out our walks.  Even though the set of details might differ, the ability to relate and empathize with others has been wonderful and so needed in my life.  Bless you for the encouraging words several of you have said to me, and especially for taking the time to read the words of my heart.

Mother’s Resilience

During Mother’s Day weekend, one might expect me to write about my adoption experience and the incredible love I have for my kiddos. Instead, I’m choosing to focus on my own mother. Mom is quiet, doesn’t seek attention; yet, strong. She is stronger than she gives herself credit for being. She is also faithful and fiercely loyal. It was not until I became a momma that I realized her resiliency, courage, and unselfishness. This post is about my mother’s resilience.

To say I was blessed growing up is an understatement. My childhood home was often filled with the smell of sugary sweetness from mom’s baked goodies. It was fairly common to have homemade French toast waiting for me when I woke up. I did not just have a mother; she was a “mommy”. Often, she would be waiting after school to walk me home, after having made a sweet surprise that would greet me when I got there. Fresh brownies, hand-made ice cream sandwiches, and sugar cookies drizzled with icing that spelled out my name were all part of the wonderment of my mom’s love through her baking. I would collapse onto the soft couch with a morsel of something delicious, feeling the love and comfort of home. It does a child good to feel as though she is the center of someone’s universe.

My mom, though reserved, was also very much liked by the kids in the neighborhood and dance studio. Girls would stay the night with me and thoroughly enjoy the vast array of mom’s meals and desserts. I just assumed every mother was like my mom. Although on a tight budget, I never went without anything. She often bought second-hand clothes for herself, so I would have the best. My hair was always fixed, clothes clean and ironed if needed, and shoes matching… Mom took pride in taking care of my needs.

Life was pretty normal for us until my illness at the age of eleven. Now, I’m not talking just a little sick. I’m talking going from running in the countryside while visiting my uncle at his farm to facing certain death. A week passed by and all my mom or the doctors knew was that I was dying from a massive infection. Exploratory surgery had to be completed to try and figure out what in the world was going on with me. They suspected cancer but were not certain.

During the surgery, mom escaped off to a room and sat by herself for about three to four hours pondering the thought of losing me to cancer. She tried to prepare herself for the grim news. “How can it be?”, mom must have thought. It was so out of the blue. With the exception of the previous surgeries (appendectomy and adhesion’s), I had been healthy, active, adventurous, and full of life. How do parents truly prepare themselves for hearing the worst possible news about their child?

Once the surgery was over, mom was told devastating news. The doctors had to remove my uterus, Fallopian tubes, and right ovary. It was not cancer though. They had not figured out what type of bacteria it was or how I got it, but if left in, I would have died. Not long after she was told, she and my dad went off to a room by themselves and let out a wail. I wonder what this sounded like. It must have been one of those guttural sounds that come from deep pain…not just the ones you can hear, but ones you can feel. Yes, I was alive, but the impact of what had occurred was life-long.

Sometimes I close my eyes and picture mom and dad huddled in a sterile white hospital waiting room. They must have been holding on tightly to each other. I wonder if they were shaking out of anger, fear, or exhaustion…perhaps all of them out the same time. My seemingly normal life had just come to a screeching halt. It would never be the same. But, neither would theirs. Their daughter’s tragedy; their own parenting experience forever indented with sadness.

Three and half weeks passed by while I was in the hospital fighting the infection. Mom was there all of the time. She put on a brave face, smiled at me through her pain, and held my hand during those long days in the hospital. Her daughter went from being vibrant and energetic to lying in the hospital bed with one foot in this world and the other in Heaven. Yet, she never let me see her scared.

Mom was also grieving as she knew what the surgery meant for the rest of my life. It was more than just a brief illness that I would hopefully recover from. She grieved for the fact that something very special was taken away from me. People would try to tell her things or come up with “reasons”, but she was still trying to figure what the purpose of it all was. Yet, she knew it was important for my life to go on and for me to have a sense of normalcy. This must have been difficult for her. She carried this burden by herself so that I could get back to being a pre-teen girl. I was not aware of the full gravity of the situation, but she was.

Mom fought to regain life for me. She made sure I went right back to doing the things I loved; dancing, socializing with friends, etc. However, the surgery did not just affect my life. Through my tragedy, she had to bear witness to and experience the impact of infertility. She too had just been dealt a huge blow. She would never have a biological grandchild. This must have saddened her. Yet, there she was strong, silent, and smiling.

Mom might say that I am the one who was the most resilient during that fateful time in my life. I definitely had the fight in me to survive. Yet, she’s the one who had to navigate raising a daughter who was unlike any other girls. She had to walk through life parenting a daughter who would never experience the joy of announcing a pregnancy, the surprise of finding out the gender, and the moment of seeing her child be born. My mom would also never hear the delightful words of “You’re going to be a grandma”. She would never be able to wait anxiously to find out the gender. And, she would never have the opportunity to sit in a waiting room for hours before gazing upon her grandchild for the first time.

But, mom is also the one who modeled how to face the darkness with courage, how to look to the future, and how to seize control back from something that was totally out of control. She’s the one who held in her fears so that I would not absorb them. She’s the one who told me “if you want to achieve something, put your heart into it”. She’s the one who went right back to being the mommy who made homemade goodies that brought great comfort and sacrificed her wants so that I would have the very best. She’s the one who never allowed herself to be victimized by this; thus, teaching me to not be a victim of my circumstance. And, she’s the one who didn’t run away from her faith in God.

So, mom, thank you for being resilient. Thank you for modeling to me that when life deals you a blow, you just get up, dust off, and walk strong. Thank you for showing and telling me that I was the most important thing in your world. Thank you for giving me security when the floor fell out from under me. I know your grandma experience started out different from others, so thank you for standing by and supporting me while we were foster parents, and for the love you give my children.

See mom? The Lord does work all things for good for those who believe in Him. My story didn’t end with infertility. Oh, it may have altered it. It may have brought doubts, anger, and tears. But, my story is now filled with love, hope, grace, faith, and your sweet grandchildren.

Thankful for my mother’s resilience. Thankful for her.

Happy Mother’s Day. I love you…Caroline