Tag: faith

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”.

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!

Well With My Soul

“When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul.”  

These lyrics are part of a classic Christian hymn by Horatio G. Spafford (1873). Mr. Spafford wrote this following a series of tragic events in his life that included losing his entire investments in the Great Chicago fire, and the sudden deaths of his four young daughters in an accident at sea.  His despair put into words has brought comfort to generations of Christians.  Out of one man’s tragedy, a song was written that continues to this day to bless people and bless the Lord.

This song has been on my mind for a several weeks.  We typically sing contemporary songs at church; however last Sunday, the worship minister closed the service out with It Is Well with My Soul.  I stood there and smiled at the Lord’s perfect timing in everything.

Years ago when singing this song, I did not always believe, find solace, or live out the words coming out of my mouth.  I was “well” with my job, education, husband, parents, friendships, etc; but I was not “well” with infertility.  The sorrow I felt was deep as if it came from the inside of my bones out to the rest of my body; the kind of sorrow that literally aches.  There is a line in the song Absence of Fear by singer/songwriter Jewel that goes “This vessel is haunted, it creaks and moans.”  That is how I felt.  I was living in a haunted vessel.  My body creaked from the hardship that it had endured, and it moaned for what could have been.

Since my foster parenting experience and the adoption of my children, I have been completely overwhelmed with the sense of peace with all that has happened.  It is difficult sometimes to put into words as there are not enough to describe how nothing else can replace the peace-maker that He is.  His peace does surpass all understanding.

It is an experience that begins with the full acknowledgement of who He is in our lives and what we choose to believe about Him.  Is He a father?  Is He a maker?  Does He offer His love freely to us or do we have to earn it?  Does He truly plan our lives with purpose far beyond our imaginations or understanding? I once questioned these things and wondered how a father, maker, love-giver, and planner could, or better yet would allow pain and loss in His children’s lives.  My earthly human instinct is to protect my children and prevent pain in their lives, so the vision of God allowing tragedy to happen has been a struggle for me to wrap my head  and my heart around.

However, full acknowledgement of who I am in Him has led to further understanding of the dark times.  The revelation of God in my life and how He has planned it has only brought me closer to Him.  I look at my situation now and see His Hand working in all of it.  Total acceptance of my infertility has been possible because of Him, not me.

I wonder sometimes if peace amongst each other could be a possibility if everyone were able to truly say “it is well”.  It is usually not the violent act, illness, or ruined relationship that lingers on in our hearts and minds.  It is the bitterness and resentment caused by these things that stain us.  It is our expression of whatever is ailing us that can cause great strife.

I am so thankful to be able to live life without resentment about infertility.  I am so thankful to know that I am His.  The song It Is Well with My Soul has a deeper meaning for me now.  My singing it is an act of saying to the Lord “whatever Your will is, I accept it and trust you”. 

My writing and speaking about infertility is a testament to the Lord’s faithfulness.  Whenever I am able to share just a bit of my testimony, it affirms me that the Lord can take tragic situations and turn them into ones that will bless others.  Thank you Lord for carrying me along the path where I can not only sing, but shout, it is truly well with my soul.

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.

Love You Bigger Than Outer Space

(Okay, okay….so I know the picture of my children above is not necessarily related to the post, but I just had to include it!  It is one of my favorites…)

Since the time my son was old enough to carry on a conversation, he and I have engaged in an ongoing “debate” over which one of us loves each other more.  The conversation goes something like this:

Me:  “I love you so much.  Do you know how much mommy loves you?”

My son: “How much?”

Me:  “Bigger than our house.”

My son: “Well I love you bigger than our city”

Me:  “I love you bigger than all the oceans”

My son:  “I love you bigger than the whole Earth”

Me:  “I love you bigger than all the planets”

My son:  “I love you bigger than outer space”

He loves this game with me.  The smile on his face reflects the joy he gets when we are talking about how big our love is for each other.  Children just have such a way of truthfully speaking their hearts to us.  Good or bad – if it is on their minds, they will speak it.

My 3-year-old daughter whispers “You are beautiful” in my ear on a pretty regular basis.  I do not know where she got this from, but it so sweet and touching.  These three simple words from her instantly give me a sense of gravity.  It is not so much about whether she truly believes that I am beautiful.  It is more than that.  She seeks out opportunities to tell me her thoughts and to examine my reaction.  It also reminds me of the greater need to let her know just how unique and beautiful she is.

My parenting journey started around six years ago, and even still I am amazed how the Lord has worked everything out for my life.  Adoption has brought so much goodness and love.  Each day brings on new challenges and discoveries.  Every day I am reminded of my Lord’s provision in my life and His answering of my prayers.

The sweetest words I have ever heard are “I love you mommy”.  These words are engraved and resonate in my heart.  Each time I hear them is if it is the first time.  I despaired over these words for so long that I do not take them for granted now.  I never really thought I would ever hear a child say this to me.  I love hearing them profess their feelings towards me.  I don’t expect it, but it sure makes me feel good!

My children may say the words “love you bigger than outer space” or “you are beautiful”, but, the Lord too says these things to me.  In Him, I am beautiful, and so are my children.  It humbles and blesses me to know that God’s love for my His children is far greater and bigger than outer space.

Dance before His Throne

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the girl I was before my hysterectomy. My surgery was not just another one chalked up in the history of who I am. It was a life-changing event. It was something that tarnished my rose-colored glasses view of the world.

I had not been a stranger to the hospital or illnesses before. At age two, I underwent an emergency appendectomy. At age seven, intestinal adhesions caused a blockage calling for another emergency surgery. But, the hysterectomy was a far more intense and dire experience.

This surgery affected everyone around me. It was not just about recovery. It was more than that. It was a game changer. My parent’s lives were instantly changed by it. My life, of course, was too.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed life. There was still laughter, new experiences, and friendships. But, after the surgery, sadness stowed itself away in me unbeknownst to many people.

Prior to this surgery, I was a dancer. By the time I was eleven, I had danced for eight years.  I danced competitively and dreamt of performing on Broadway. My ultimate goal was to be a choreographer. However, something changed in me following the surgery. My body did not move the same way. It took more effort. My muscles had been emaciated from the infection and, to be honest, my spirit had been dampened by it as well.

Within a few years after my recovery, I quit dancing. I don’t know why really. My dance teacher told me many years later that she believed if the surgery would have never happened, I could have been a professional dancer. She too thought that it changed my body’s ability to move and nearly wiped me clean of the strength I once had.

So, here I am now at age forty still thinking of the days I danced. I’ve decided to write a poem to the little girl I once was whose dreams of dancing went to the wayside. I know that when my walk on this Earth has ended, I will be dancing before the Lord.

Dance away, little dancer. Dance before His throne. Dance for all the pain you have once known.

No longer taste the salt in your tears. Feel the movement taking away all of your fears.

Dance your life into a story, and let it be all for His glory.

Point your toes with every ounce of grace. See the expression of love on His face.

Dance away, little dancer. The one who longed to know the answer.

The answer to why that fateful time came.  The longing for a life that would never be the same.

Your life interrupted with no fault of your own. In a single moment, your life’s tapestry was sewn.

Welcome home, little dancer. For now, you know the answer.

His love is your melody. Dance your praise for eternity.

You’ve danced your life into a story. And, it all has been for His glory.

Dear Infertility

Dear Infertility,

Hello, it’s me again. You know…the little girl you once made to feel inadequate, the teenager you once strived to isolate, and the adult you almost accomplished stealing joy from. Well, I’m here to tell you what you cannot do.

You cannot diminish moments of laughter that echo in my mind for days following. You won’t determine my capacity to love other people and children. You no longer make me feel less of a female or parent or anything else you once tried to convince me of.

You don’t stalk me like you used to. I don’t think of you when I see babies anymore. I actually enjoy going to baby showers now. You used to tag along uninvited just to make me feel uncomfortable.  You are not invited, anymore.

You no longer cause a wedge between me and the loving Father I believe in. You used to do that, you know. I used you as an excuse to not listen to Him. He is bigger than you will ever be.  He reminds me what His plans are for my life, not yours.

You cannot take away forgiveness. You do not replace hope. You obviously offer very little grace, but I do not look to you for it anyway.

For the most part, you were one of my darkest secrets. I hid you away for so long.  Funny thing now is that I’m exposing you to the world. You have become my motivation to write, to reach out, and to love.

At one time, I was incomplete. You filled an ever-growing void with even more sorrow, but not anymore. I will never use you again as a way to justify my lack of purpose or meaning in this life.

Dear infertility…this is not goodbye. I can still use you to be a more passionate person. I can still reminisce of you as a reminder to try and love my children more each day than I did the day before. I see you trying to pull others down and I recognize you right away. I use this as motivation for being a more genuine and empathetic listener. The tears I cry now are not for me, but for those of whom you are trying to take over.

Dear infertility…you have not stolen my ability to have a bountiful life. I have a full, rich life that involves children despite your attempt at taking that away. My life is no longer barren. You did not create a wasteland in me. Oh, I won’t forget you. How can I really? You have traveled with me the vast majority of my life, but you are not my life. Ironically, you have caused me to view life as being precious.

Dear infertility…this is not goodbye. This is me saying hello to all the things that you will never be.

Playing in the Dirt

 

 

I don’t know why, but it really bothers me when my little boy bolts out the back door stepping around and jumping over the various arrays of toys just to head straight for the small and somewhat insignificant dirt pile near our patio. By the time his session in the dirt has ended, he is covered from head to toe with it. His bright blonde hair shows every spec. We usually head straight to the bathtub for a nice scrub down. After his bath, you would never know he was covered in dirt from his time outside.

I usually will say to him “Please don’t get in the dirt. Mommy doesn’t want you to”. He replies with “okay”. However, he still heads straight out the door right for it. It is as if he is compelled to play in it! One day while watching him twirl his stubby little fingers through it, I got to wondering if God feels the same way at times about us playing in the dirt. He may not want us to, but yet, we go back to it time and time again. Or, perhaps He wants us to get a little dirty at times. It is quite possible that there are many life lessons that we have to learn while in the dirt in order to come out a little cleaner.

As I grew from being an eleven-year-old to a young adult, I noticed more and more that despite trying to stay clear and clean of truly dealing with my hysterectomy and infertility, I found myself struggling to ignore it. I do not recall at what point exactly that I threw my hands up and gave up on pretending that my surgery did not bother me. Through the years I probably attempted this many times and may have succeeded in leading others to believe that I was just fine with all that happened. Truthfully, I was never okay with what happened to me.

Looking back on my experience with infertility, I can say there were definitely moments that I was just moving dirt around from one place to the other. Sometimes I would just sit right in the middle of the squalor that is hopelessness. Other times, when seeing my friends and families enjoy their pregnancies, I felt compelled inside to sling mud around. I would never try to purposefully ruin someone’s moment, but internally, I was slinging the mud from one spot to the other because of despair, anger, and jealousy.

There were times when my sense of purpose for life seemed to be soiled by the trauma of my surgery. Everything seemed to be less enjoyable because all I could do was wallow in my own misery. It was as if the impact of my surgery caused most things in life to be covered in a thin layer of dust; the debris left behind from just one impactful moment in my life.

It was during these times when I had my hands and head in the dirt pile that I probably gained the most insight about my life and the Lord’s will for it. In order for me to get a to a place of contentment and hope, I had to really dig around and take a look at what kept popping out of the “mud”.

I wish I could honestly say that I fully accepted being barren before becoming a mother to my children. I cannot do this though. While fostering them, I found myself still digging around trying to process and take it all in. There were moments when I grieved the fact that I didn’t carry them in my body. I would have never chosen some of the actions their birth mothers did. Other times, I was so frustrated because it only seemed “right” that I should be able to keep them and not worry about reunification…after all, I was doing all the hard work raising them.

Being a foster parent definitely allowed me to discover the full impact of infertility. It was extremely hard at times. I never really knew what I was missing until I held my children for the first time. While I was overjoyed with loving them, I was also being reminded of the great loss I had suffered.

There were other times when I became angry with myself for ever signing up to do foster care in the first place. When it seemed that their cases were heading towards reunification or placement with relatives, I would start grieving their loss before it even happened. I thought to myself “Well great job Caroline.  You’ve lost having a biological child, and now you just set yourself up to lose the only babies you have been a mommy to.” There I was, playing in the dirt again.

It seems now though that being in positions that truly forced me to get my hands and my head dirty probably were the most poignant times when I stretched in my understanding of what had happened, developed in my humility and empathy for others, and grew into a more faithful child of God. I lifted up these dirty hands, this soiled heart, and this dusty life to Him. As I did this my vision became cleaner; or better yet, His vision of me became clearer.

I have decided to make a consorted effort not to stress about my little boy playing in the dirt anymore. After all, it is just dirt. There are much worse things he could play in. I may just shock him one day and actually encourage him to get as dirty as he wants to.

Who knows…I may just get out there and join him!

Broken Pieces

One of my favorite songs is “All the broken pieces” by Christian artist Matthew West. Nearly every time I listen to it, I think about my life and all the times when it was nearly shred into pieces by the ways of the world and the hardship that life on Earth can bring. My surgery, the aftermath of it, the poor choices I made because of it, the anger I spewed out at times due to it….all of these things are just shards of what makes up my being.

My children also come from broken places. Their biological families have been torn apart by worldly challenges and poor choices. Broken homes, unhealthy relationships, and crushed hearts made up my children’s existence before they were even born. They got off to a pretty rough start in life. They were robbed of a normal, healthy pregnancy. They were immediately separated within a few days of birth from their birth mothers by being brought into protective services. They were placed with foster families and then a legal battle ensued for them to have what every child should and deserves to have – an unbroken, un-abusive, love-giving kind of home. Although they eventually (legally) got this, it was still a start to life that no child really deserves. Let’s face it, my family was put together by the falling apart of other ones.

I’ve always heard and agreed to some extent that it doesn’t matter how hard we fall, it’s how fast we get up that makes the difference. I believe this in most situations, but there are times in life when the breaking of our hearts, our minds, and our bodies requires more than just a quick jump up. There are moments when sorrow nearly brings us to our knees, stomps on us, tramples us, and leaves us in the pit of despair. It is during these times that we may question where God is, and why in the world will He not “fix” things for us, or cure the diseases, or take away the addictions of those we love.

Isn’t the world really full of broken pieces? We all at various times find ourselves searching for just one sliver of goodness to call our own. There is so much hurt out there. I cannot even imagine what the Lord must feel day in and day out watching His children break each other’s hearts.

My favorite part of the song by Matthew West goes like this:

I can take even your greatest mistake
every scar; every tear, every break
And I can turn it in to something more beautiful
than you have ever seen
so lift them up to Me

My children, and many children before them, may have started out in the world with fractured families. If left alone, I get the sense they may not have ever truly experienced stability, hope, and the substance of God. But, He took what could have been used as an early path to destruction and built up a road that led to the wholeness they so deserve. I know He has mighty things in store for them.

The scars, the tears, and the breaks are all put back together to make us whole in Him. He has taken the shrapnel of my wounds and the ugliness of my sin to build me back together again. He poured out His love on the cross. He was broken so that I would not have to be.

Some fortunate people go through life with barely a scratch; while others seem to be continually reminded that flesh is truly only flesh. I guess I fall somewhere in between the two. Flesh may fallible and vulnerable, but the spirit which dwells within us, is mighty. Our spirit is a survivor. God wants us to survive. He wants us to be resilient; He wants us to need Him, and to choose lightness over darkness.

I used to believe that I was just a broken girl….missing a uterus, having to be on hormones, not having babies…etc. Well, truthfully, I was broken. In the fragmented relationships, shattered dreams, crushed hearts, and broken bodies, God is able to sculpt healed relationships, better dreams, loving hearts, and whole bodies. I am a broken piece of this world.  In my weakness, I found strength in the One who put me back together.  Only God can create beauty out of ashes.