November 1, 2013
I don't know what kind of virus is upon this house. But it's a really nasty one. Luke and Baby V started feeling weird last Friday. Saturday it hit baby V hard...just as I took her to her first unsupervised and overnight visit with dad. Welcome to parenthood. Then Blake. Sunday afternoon me. Monday night Grace. Tuesday Mike. I saw Levi spraying his hands and arms with Lysol. I told him to stop, but he IS the only one who hasn't had it. Thursday, I finally went to work. The house is back to as normal as we get. Friday I'm at work less than an hour when daycare calls me to get V. And now it's Friday night and Luke is throwing up again. Stomach viruses are from satan. Call me crazy. Yes I'm delirious from cleaning puke and high on Lysol fumes. But here are the facts. August 30th, we are set to get Baby V. That morning, I wake up at 3:00 am throwing up. A month later we plan a birthday bash for Blake, so he feels like the rest of our kids who've just celebrated with big parties. Mike and I call for reinforcements and are in Phenergan induced comas during the party. Sunday, my vision will begin to come to life as I have the chance to share my testimony with my small group. I know there are other families in our church that are going to step up and join God in this mission of foster care. I can't wait to share our story...if I'm not puking. I have to wonder if Satan is working against me.
It's been a rough week, but I have learned a couple valuable things this week. One- I'm better than who I was yesterday, but I'm still a really wretched person. God still has a lot of work to do on me. I learned I don't really want to suffer for the gospel, I was just okay with being slightly inconvenienced. I made sure V's dad knew I took off work 4 days this week to care for his daughter. I pretended for the sake of teaching him what parenthood is all about. I think I may have just wanted him to know . The second thing I learned is this life is not normal. I have been called to love a child that is not my own like she is my own. I have worried about her this week, missed work for her, cleaned her up when she was sick, loved her, rocked her, had her pull my hair, pitch fits, get jealous when I try to love on the other sick kids, and take her to the doctor when I am sick myself. I've given her medicine today, prayed for her healing, and then packed her up. Today, she felt like mine. I know I'm being called to love her and treat her like she is mine. But today she just WAS mine. And then I dropped her off. I would not have been okay dropping Luke off with someone else tonight, but I just did that with my baby. As dad and I were saying goodbye V reached back for me and I took her in my arms. I hugged her, and I thought this is not normal. I don't love foster care. I'm not good at foster care. But God didn't call me, because I looked like I would be good at this. He just called me. I bring nothing of my own that is good except my faith in Him.
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