The Hardest Stuff

photo by Shelby

photo by Shelby

by Anonymous

Today is the day that I am supposed to write an article for the Dandelion Magazine.  I put it on my calendar and everything.  I live by my calendar and I write everything down. So written on today’s calendar: fix a plumbing issue at one of our rentals, go to a baby shower for one the young unwed mothers that I help at a local ministry that I’m involved in.....and a number of other errands that fill up my day and I’m fairly certain I won’t get done, but I will try.  Oh yeah, and write that article that I also had on yesterday’s “to do” list.  While under the sink fixing a garbage disposal, I write this article in me head, “What you need to know to survive an investigation....”. 

I start thinking about our precious Khy, he was the little boy that we had that lead to our investigation. His mom blamed something ridiculous on us after she got him back.  It was so ridiculous and everyone knew it.  The mom had done it to other foster families, but regardless they still had to go through with the investigation.  I’m writing this article in my head and half laughing about it and the absurdity of all the allegations the mom made against other foster families as well as ours. Recalling that her newborn was near death the first time the kids were removed and that the kids were removed a second time this past winter and how we fought to get them without success.

And then my phone rings.  It’s my best friend and she wants to know why I didn’t call her about Khy.  I don’t know what she was talking about and it’s very odd since I was just thinking about him and his siblings.  She said she was coming over and I told her that wasn’t at home. “Just tell me, what is it?  I’ll be fine.”  Oh Dear God, how many times have I said, “I’ll be fine.”  Just let me grieve, I’ll be fine.  I can say good-bye, I’ll be fine.  I can handle ridiculous accusations, I’ll be fine.  I can take on hard stuff and hard kids, I’ll be fine.

Today, I am not fine.  I am messed up.  I want to scream, I want to cuss, I want to punch something.  I have spent the last four and a half years “being fine”, carrying other people’s burdens, fixing things for others, doing crazy hard stuff and knowing some downright terrible and disgusting things about some of our kids that would make you vomit.  Today I am feeling every single hard thing, everything I’ve tried to be fine about.  My stomach is churning and I want to quit!

Today I can’t be fine.  Tomorrow I will go to the funeral of a boy that we would have made our own in a heartbeat if given the chance.  A little boy who out of over 25+ kids that have come into our home, we still talk about him on a weekly basis. Today I have to tell my kids.  We haven’t seen him in over a year, and we may have never seen him again, but now we grieve his life.  The life we couldn’t save.

I’ll still write my article, probably tomorrow, but for this moment I will say to you, Foster Mama or Future Foster Mama:  God has called us to do hard stuff.  You are going to learn to deal with it.  You are going to feel rejected by those around you that don’t get what you are doing and why.  You are going to feel used, abused, neglected, and accused.  But know that while you will be fine, and I will be’s okay to not be fine for a moment.