In the moments after I hung up the phone with our case worker, I felt like the world was crashing around me and I couldn’t keep steady. She had given me our pre-trial court date and it was farther away than I expected. Standing on the front porch, I let the news sink in. I took a seat on our front steps and buried my face in my hands as my tears fell to the ground, all while my littlest kids napped inside.
I was ready for the limbo of foster care to end. Yet in reality it was just beginning. This realization altered my expectations of when we would adopt the kids. It seemed so far away. I wondered if I would be strong enough to keep going when all I wanted was to give these precious children, and really myself, the confidence that would come with adoption.
In the weeks after receiving our pre-trial date, I was extremely sensitive. Anything could spark an emotional response. The kids would remind me of their wish to stay with us forever, and tears would come. All I wanted to do was shout, “YES! You can rest in the safety of our love now and forever.” But I couldn’t, because there was no security for any of us.
Once the tears started to come it was hard to turn them off again. There were many nights after getting the kids in bed that I spent in tears, questioning if we’d get to adopt them and how long we’d have to wait.
I loved these children with everything in me and I wanted them to stay with us forever. Yet with this added time I was terrified their biological parents would start fighting and working on their court orders and change everything. I had heard stories of biological parents making improvements right at the end, which lengthened the process by months, even years, simply by showing a little progress at just the right time.
I never felt safe. I tried my best to be present and in the moment with the children, but in reality I was terrified my life was a ticking time bomb and had a countdown for when this dream would explode in pieces around me.
My husband Michael would often hold me as I cried myself to sleep at night. He would whisper to me encouraging words, “It’s going to be okay. It’s just a few more months.”
He has always had lower expectations than me in situations like our adoption. Lower expectations mean less disappointment. He so easily trusted if these children were meant to be ours then the Lord would take care of the details. He would remind me repeatedly on especially emotional days, “This is not outside of God’s control.”
It was during this time I started to bear the burden of our children’s case more. I began to feel as if I were responsible for making sure our workers were doing everything as quickly as possible. I called asking about progress and hoping to keep our case in the front of everyone’s mind. Despite the setback in my ideal timeline, I was willing to do anything I could to keep our case moving toward adoption, and as quickly as possible. Once the adoption was finalized I believed life would really start to settle down and the kids would be even more confident in their place in our family. Then I would be able to relax and breathe again.
At the time, I struggled to remember the truth that my plans don’t always match God’s plans. I had wanted to become a mom for many years before I met these children. Yet, had I had become a mother then, I wouldn’t have them. When I look back, I see God’s hand and His faithfulness and the reality that His plan truly is good. Even so, I forgot God’s timeline was sometimes different than mine and His timeline alone would ultimately bring Him the most glory.
In the weeks after receiving our pre-trial date, I was extremely sensitive. Anything could spark an emotional response. The kids would remind me of their wish to stay with us forever, and tears would come. All I wanted to do was shout, “YES! You can rest in the safety of our love now and forever.” But I couldn’t, because there was no security for any of us.
Once the tears started to come it was hard to turn them off again. There were many nights after getting the kids in bed that I spent in tears, questioning if we’d get to adopt them and how long we’d have to wait.
I loved these children with everything in me and I wanted them to stay with us forever. Yet with this added time I was terrified their biological parents would start fighting and working on their court orders and change everything. I had heard stories of biological parents making improvements right at the end, which lengthened the process by months, even years, simply by showing a little progress at just the right time.
I never felt safe. I tried my best to be present and in the moment with the children, but in reality I was terrified my life was a ticking time bomb and had a countdown for when this dream would explode in pieces around me.
My husband Michael would often hold me as I cried myself to sleep at night. He would whisper to me encouraging words, “It’s going to be okay. It’s just a few more months.”
He has always had lower expectations than me in situations like our adoption. Lower expectations mean less disappointment. He so easily trusted if these children were meant to be ours then the Lord would take care of the details. He would remind me repeatedly on especially emotional days, “This is not outside of God’s control.”
It was during this time I started to bear the burden of our children’s case more. I began to feel as if I were responsible for making sure our workers were doing everything as quickly as possible. I called asking about progress and hoping to keep our case in the front of everyone’s mind. Despite the setback in my ideal timeline, I was willing to do anything I could to keep our case moving toward adoption, and as quickly as possible. Once the adoption was finalized I believed life would really start to settle down and the kids would be even more confident in their place in our family. Then I would be able to relax and breathe again.
At the time, I struggled to remember the truth that my plans don’t always match God’s plans. I had wanted to become a mom for many years before I met these children. Yet, had I had become a mother then, I wouldn’t have them. When I look back, I see God’s hand and His faithfulness and the reality that His plan truly is good. Even so, I forgot God’s timeline was sometimes different than mine and His timeline alone would ultimately bring Him the most glory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This story is just one of many in my own life that remind me why this retreat and ministry is important. I didn't have a lot of people who had gone ahead of me that would speak Truth into my life and keep my perspective where it belonged. I was also afraid to reach out in my times of struggle and heartache.
I am passionate about this retreat and forming a community, a safe place, for foster and adoptive moms because I wish I had a place like this in the hard times of my journey.
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