don't ever quit.

It was a day. 

You're gonna say I should be in bed after all that, and my body would agree with you. But He met me in the end, and I've gotta share that first.

We never, ever considered being foster parents. Never wanted to, never prayed about it, never did anything more than support other people being foster parents, from a distance. 

We never considered it because it's not a thing in Haiti, and because we thought it'd be hard in 67 ways, and who goes looking for that?

We now know it's hard in 267 ways we never considered.

We have court coming up still this month. Yet another social worker, trying to catch up on our case. Realizing that a hundred things 'supposed to be done the last almost 20 months haven't been, and scrambling to make it all happen, fast, before court. Well. Scrambling to get me to make it all happen. Fast. 

It's been a lot. I've been getting tired. Discouraged. Trying to keep focused on the girls and not on all the red tape, broken promises, lost papers and continual turnover. 

We head this weekend into 10 hours of mandatory training three hours from here, and I'm trying to get everyone ready and covered for that. The, I get two more calls yesterday, and I ] am not making this up. 

First call, five pm, Matt in Orlando, trying to get dinner on the table, saying their records show we have been "taking a break" and are we ready to be placed with new foster kids now that we'd had a break? Mistakes like this make you laugh or cry, friends, and I wasn't laughing.  

The second phone call was at 6 pm, while trying to get dinner cleaned up.  Sorry this was so last second, but the girls had a mandatory appointment, in Jackson, tomorrow, 1:00. Could a worker pull them out of school and take them? no. Could we reschedule not during the school day or not in the middle of lunch and nap time? No. Could it happen after court? No. 

I was upset.  6 pm at night for an appointment at 1 pm the next day? Their lack of planning. Not good timing for the girls. Not good timing for our bio kids. Not anywhere near our house. One driver, small group to cook for Tuesday night, homeschool that is never finished by noon, Lily to pick up at 4:30, little ones at home. I griped to the Lord about it all night, and woke up this morning still upset.  It takes a lot of planning to make everyone and all their things work, and I work hard to be organized and to let our yes be yes and our no, no.  And I can't plan well like this. 

If I didn't take them, it only hurts the girls and risks us continuing as a stable home and family for them. But try as I might to suck it up, I was frustrated when I was rushing us through homeschool this morning, frustrated to have Sofie babysitting in the middle of the day. Frustrated when I pulled them out of school half-day, frustrated when we finally arrived and we couldn't find the office. Frustrated when the office wouldn't answer their phone. Frustrated when we finally found it without their help, and no one was there.

Really frustrated when no one ever came, and speechless when finally someone finally calls to tell me that there was a miscommunication with the state office and their office, and so the people we were there to see weren't going to be there today. Frustrated when they asked if we could FaceTime instead, them at home, us sitting alone in their office. Frustrated when my phone died because I had not prepared for an hour long FaceTime meeting. Frustrated when we finally got home, only to be called again and told we'd have to do it again, and before court. 

I just can't. 

I kissed the kids and made chicken and rice soup and sat on the curb for six minutes to watch them bike and roller skate and try to stop my hands from shaking before I had to leave again to go get Lily, and texted the only foster friend I know, "the human in me doesn't want to do this anymore."

My hobbies, my free time, my down time....it is ALL rare, and it is ALL foster care. The honest human in me doesn't want to do this anymore, and never, ever did.

And then.    

Then I rush to get Lily home, take the soup off the stove, add some salt, change the baby, load up the party bus with 8 kids, one sulking over lost socks, one wearing a questionably short top, two wearing roller skates and one complaining about being tired from her long day of friend drama. 

Tonight after soup was Testimony Tuesday, Bible teacher Matt out of town.

And Lord. 

One man, one woman sharing the human in them, and what God did. 

What looked like truth, it wasn't. What seemed like the best wasn't. What seemed like alone wasn't. What felt like a waste wasn't. What seemed too far gone wasn't. What couldn't be redeemed WAS. 

Wasn't the Lords just GOOD, to give me that tonight?

Miracles, intricate views back at how God WAS woven all throughout, WORKING and at work, seeing, moving, good planning, never far off.

I saw in their stories--physically envisioned as they spoke--golden threads of God at work, woven back in those darkest places, threads of "elastic grace" banded in when all seemed dark. I could see the rich ruby strands of His grace, His goodness, His never-giving-up, unwavering love in their stories, from the beginning, through always, through the darkest, despairing times.

It took my breath away, in that dark church tonight huddled around 15 brothers and sisters, somebody's banshee kids rollerskating down the halls and a baby on my feet eating cookies...the sacredness of the people God used to speak in, to show up, to say a word, to do a thing, to be obedient. The sacredness, the beauty, the richness of all the people woven into those stories.  Some, by their love and light over and over, some living in darkness and hatred bringing separation and death, all used graciously and unnecessarily by Him to bring these friends to massive transformation, to bring about His GOOD and perfect and downright beautiful plan. 

I couldn't make up their stories if I tried, and yet the Lord wove their testimonies and continues to, full of His truth and love and grace!

I can't change my girls' stories...the trauma. The heartbreak. The shudders. And I sure have learned I can't change the system....the turnover, the dropped balls, the mistakes, the red tape. 

But I can die to the human in me. 

And I can weave His grace, His love, His care, into the fabric of their stories.

I can't fix them. But God was there and is, and He can use me to weave Himself, His healing, His transformation, His love, into their stories.

Their testimonies, one day, WILL be full of His grace and great love and faithfulness, and maybe it is sacred--not frustrating--that such weaving is my hobby.

Dear ones, keep on being faithful today, whatever the frustrations, for He IS using your small faithfulness to weave HIS faithfulness into the lives of others. 

And if you know of a foster family, dear ones... Please? I don't care how long they've been doing this or how put together they may look or how well you know them...Go take them some dinner. Some groceries. Some flowers. A gift card. A hug. A date night. A Bible verse. Some ice cream :). Something, anything. Do something, be a sacred part of their heart-stretching story, and lift them up as you do me.

I love ya.