At 3 o'clock this morning I was in a deep sleep when my phone rang. I laid there staring at the caller ID knowing why they were calling. I let it go to voicemail, I knew if I answered the phone I would soon be answering my door. I needed more time to think. As I watched "DHHS" flash on the screen I began thinking through all that I needed to do this week, thinking through what it would mean if I said yes to more kids, wondering if they had lice and bedbugs, where would I sleep them and the family coming to visit, how could I manage appointments for them and my babe on this holiday week? I've done holiday "placements" before, they have to see a pediatrician, dentist, and have an eye exam done, the caseworkers and GAL needs to come to my house do a walk through, talk with the kids and give me what little information they have. I will need to go buy a whole new wardrobe, today, because they will arrive with only the clothes they have on, court will happen within 72 hours, and I will meet the parents lawyers and all involved at what's called a "Family team meeting", visits will be set up, the schools need to know. The rules say it all has to happen in the first ten days, no exceptions. This week I already had to move multiple appointments and still had to keep the appointments with the caseworkers and GAL's I'm already involved with, plus we had doctors appointment scheduled, visits and then the normal family stuff-Lesson plans and school, replacing broken dishwashers, scouts, beds to make, and food to buy. In between each practical thought I wondered most of all could I give them enough hugs or were my arms already full? I listened to the voicemail. A brother and sister, the same age as two of my kids needed a home. I thought some more. They had just been pulled from their beds, and ripped from the only family they ever knew, as broken as it was those people belonged to them, their hearts were scared and hurting. Now in the middle of the night they sat on uncomfortable chairs in a state office building, with wall paper pealing, and a throw blanket covering them. When what they really wanted was their favorite stuffy that lay somewhere back at home because they had no time to get it. My kids were asleep, safely tucked into bed leaving my arms empty for a few hours. I have a squishy couch they could curl up on with their heads in my lap as they cry themselves to sleep. I could rub their hair telling them everything was going to be okay, that they were loved and wanted. My heart broke for them. I hardly slept after that.
Four hours later the call came again. The caseworker had gone through the list of foster families with no answer, so with no other options she began again. Those kids spent the night on those chairs in that cold building. Still she searches. Their aren't enough homes. My heart says yes bring them, but my brain knows my arms are full. This November as I sit back and watch my kids do normal kids stuff, my heart quietly prays for the hearts that will find themselves with strangers, and I hope that more healthy families will step into the chaos and pain of these beautiful souls.
...Admonish the unruly, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with everyone. See that no one repays another with evil for evil, but always seek after that which is good for one another and all people. Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Jesus Christ.
~ Paul, friend of Jesus
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