I
should probably stop keeping track of all the things I've cried about
in our journey foster care so far...it's getting to be too much to
count. But the most recent things, were actually literally "things".
Starting with this backpack. Our girls didn't come to us with much, so
when our case worker came with welcome bags full of gifts and
necessities, tailored to their age and gender, our 5-year-old lit up.
She ooh'ed and ahh'ed over every single thing in her bag (Toothpaste!
Socks! My very own crayons!), but she especially loved the backpack
itself. She told us she hated her old backpack (a logo'ed freebie from a
local early education program) and was so excited to have one that
didn't make her "look like a boy".
This
sparkly wonder came with a matching lunchbox, which was an answer to a
prayer so simple I hadn't even taken the time to actually form
it...feeling silly about asking for something so basic. I was stressed
about getting all the little pieces in place for her to start school on
Monday (today!) and a lunch box was one of those pieces. Apparently
where Amazon Prime falls short, Jesus steps in.
She
clutched her new treasures- smelling her Minions body wash, and
inquiring about the "charger?" (actually a new nightlight), while I
teared up over the simple goodness of "things" and how they can mean so
much.
.........
And
lo and behold- they had racks full of things. Skirts and polos and
pants...more than enough to create a suitable wardrobe for our kiddo
(and all on sale!) So I stocked up, hitting a few bonus aisles as well
(Halloween candy, a new bike helmet, some surprise trinkets for the car
trip home). I pushed my cart, and I cried over the abundance of it all;
overwhelmed by the needs, but also by this gift of being able to do
something tangible for these girls; to show them love and provision in
the simplest of ways.
We've
had these kids just over a week...and it has been HARD. They are lovely
little girls, and are adjusting as well as could possibly be expected
but it is still HARD. We are exhausted tending to the needs of five
little ones, especially piled on top of an extra-busy time in our
household. (Five people's needs seem to magnify when you're trapped in a
car for 16 hours over a long weekend). I second-guess myself
constantly, not sure if I'm doing the right thing for anyone. And though I'm familiar with the doubt and guilt of
motherhood when dealing with my own kids, it's a whole new level to
worry about letting these new kids down. The stakes are higher when it's
someone else's kids; kids who have already been through pain and trauma
and loss.
So
I cry over "things". Because they are so much more than stuff. A
backpack is a sign that she is worthy, and special. A lunchbox is a sign
that my needs (however small) are not forgotten. A bargain rack full of
skorts is a physical example of the blessings God has laid out for our family.
There
are so many needs to be met, and so many ways I'm not as good at this
as I would like. But simultaneously there are infinite ways I can love
these kids well, one "thing" at a time.
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