What's On My Heart

I've shared a lot of our journey with little man with the world. I've kept big chunks of it to ourselves, and I always will. I try to mostly share the emotions... the things that are common to almost every journey of foster parents and children.
Some months ago I wrote a blog to little man's bio parents.
Tonight I read it again and wept.
With all my heart when a little, or not so little, heart passes into our lives I root for their biological family. That is the role that we signed on for when we went into this process.
I want that to work in a way that I know I cannot explain to anyone.
And sometimes, I feel like I need to tell people why.
So, here is the cold hard fact spelled out for ya.
All of us are a few bad decisions from life going completely upside down.
I promise you, zero parents hold that tiny baby's live in their bodies and then arms... and plot on how they are going to lose them.
But it happens.  The statistics are there by the hundreds, over 500 just here in our two counties of NWA.  That's a lot of little lives tossed into the balance. And it's for so many different reasons.
What's best for them? Healthy, happy, healed, and whole families.
The system, flawed as it may be, does everything it can to make that a reality with the family of origin for that child. But it is not always possible.
Enter one of us... one of my people... the foster families.
I know there are good and bad foster parents. I'm not naive.. but here in the trenches I have not met one.I have met dozens who wear themselves out, mentally, physically, and spiritually for the little humans placed in their paths.
What else do they have in common.  They are also hoping, against hope sometimes, for a sweet reunion. And I know this, because I have seen the other side of those reunions.
I think I'm rambling a bit.
So what's on my heart tonight?
The hundreds of biological parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc... who have kids sleeping in a foster home or shelter tonight.
Please pay for them.
Pray that they chose the hard path for their children
Pray for their health and paths to wellness.
Pray for those who are facing the ultimate loss of a child that they desperately love but cannot take care of right now.

That mother or father - they may have talked to you on the phone today.They may have taken your order at a restaurant. They may be next door to you.

What else can you do?  There are organizations just about everywhere that stand in the gap to support biological families toward reunification. They need support. They need prayers. They may need you.

Do what you can, with what you can, for as long as you can...

-Gina

When It's Confirmed!

Just after I posted my last blog, catch-up here if you missed it... a dear friend of mine messaged me with a verse that God had given her.

Y'all it rocked me.  Because it definitely follows what I believe God has in store for this year.

Isaiah 54:  1-3  

“Sing, barren woman,

    you who never bore a child;

burst into song, shout for joy,

    you who were never in labor;

because more are the children of the desolate woman

    than of her who has a husband,”

says the Lord.

 “Enlarge the place of your tent,

    stretch your tent curtains wide,

    do not hold back;

lengthen your cords,

    strengthen your stakes.

For you will spread out to the right and to the left;

    your descendants will dispossess nations

    and settle in their desolate cities.

But here is why it rocked me?! One of the conversations God and I have had off and on for the past 6 years is how all of the stories I have seen in scripture about women who weren't able to have children.. ALL ended with them giving physical birth to a child.  ALL of them that I could find had the same miracle ending.

Why were there no words to someone who wasn't going to get that gift?  I like a happy ending as much as the next gal.  But clearly that is not every woman's destiny.

Oh, but there were words for that... in Isaiah.  Beautiful promises of descendants like an Abrahamic promise.

I had to share it... because maybe you are there to?!  Maybe you can't have children. Maybe you've had a child, but have been unable to have a second.

You are not forgotten.

Families come in all shapes and sizes.  

Harvest.

-Gina

One Word - 2019

As I start this blog, the first in a long while, it’s barely Christmas Eve – 2018. I love Christmas usually. It’s been a top holiday for my entire life. But this year, is a real struggle.

I’m adding a nice disclosure at the top here, because dudes… you may not want to delve in to this.

And ladies – if you have any infertility triggers this may not be the blog for you.

Ready – here we go…

This year caps off a 6 year fertility journey. I say that because it truly was a story with twists and turns with some highs… and some crushing lows.

I say ‘was’ because that journey came to its official end on 12/13/18. I went in for an exploratory surgery to remove a cyst on an ovary and left completely barren.

I knew that a hysterectomy was a distinct possibility. I knew from all of the scans and studies of all things chick related, that it was quite possibly a big old mess down there.  I mean, two little lives had started a journey there and checked out well ahead of their expected stay. The ultrasound and CT scans from the ER both showed unmistakable issues.

The doctor prepped Al and me before anesthesia to make double sure that I was ready.  I laughingly told him that my uterus wasn’t doing the job I’d hired it on for, so it might as well go.

It’s easier to be all giggles about that in an abstract sense for sure. It was the right decision for me. Out of my 28 day cycle – regular as clockwork – I had 3 days of horrific pain cause by the cyst every other month or so. Then every single month for the past 3 years I had close to a week of debilitating pain as the fibroids that took over my uterus tortured me into submission.

Womanhood is not for the faint of heart.

This season always struck me as so full of hope. In each of our years since marriage I was sure that we were closing in on our miracle. My “word of the year” often reflected that – hope – joy – journey – renewal.

This year that specific hope, the hope for biological children, is gone.

On the bright-side, I don’t have people telling me they are sure I’ll get pregnant as soon as we adopt.

Gone will be the hopeful – all in God’s timing pep talks.

I never have to smile through a “well at least you’re having fun trying…” K (just don’t… y’all).

Barren  

I’m half tempted to make that my 2019 word.

It seems so final. It’s tinged with a grief I could not have fully expected.

And entering into a holiday that begins with a miraculous birth, the finality of the ending to this journey seems bitter… barren.

LATER

I waited a week to start this back up again. It wasn’t intentional. I think I just needed to sit with these ‘feels’ a bit.  I got nice and sick over that time. A cold took me fully down to my bed for hours out of every day. I’ve spent a lot of time praying. I’ve spent a lot of time crying. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking.

------Lest you think me super devoted, I’ve also binged an entire series of baking shows on Netflix-----

Every year for the last probably 15 (I need to check my journal to be sure), I have chosen to pick a word for the upcoming year. Resolutions are generally pointless.

In the past, I have found focus in a word, just one word usually, that gave me something to push into.

When I started this, I jokingly said that maybe “barren” should be my word. Ok, maybe not entirely joking. It’s that dark and sarcastic humor that has become a pretty steady coping mechanism.

But barren is definitely not my word.

So what is?

Harvest

As I am awake again tonight going over so much in my heart, Psalm 126 keeps rolling around.

I was going to just pick a piece of it here – but it all applies.

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dreamed.

Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.

Then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.”

The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.

Restore our fortunes, Lord, like streams in the Negev.

Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.

Harvest

2016 – 2017 – 2018 I sowed with tears. I lost things that almost no one knows about. I grieved hard. But I sowed. No to be all “own horn tooter…” I got the privilege to share about my faith multiple times. I got the joy of leading a whole group of people in a verse by verse study of Revelation – start to finish – every line. I got to continue to help lead worship at church.

I chose to sow. I wanted to give up. I wanted to give up a whole bunch of times. I had to lay low a few of those times because of how dark some of them got.

My actual conversations on the way into surgery were about God's calling on us into foster care. The last thing I remember, was telling the nurse about the faithfulness of God in that journey.

I chose to sow.

2019 – It’s harvest time.  I feel it within the depths of myself. I don’t believe that a calendar flipping over defines a fresh start.  What I do believe, is that it is a good place to plant a memory stone (see Joshua 4).

I’ll keep sowing too, because some of these things still need planting (hello long lost book writing) and tending to (hello old daily devotional).

Harvest – 2019 – It’s that year!

-Gina