Our Right Thing

I must have been two or three years old. It was after Halloween and I'd been told not to eat my candy. Even then though, the chocolate called to me. Tiny Mandy found a cloak of invisibility (also known as a threadbare towel) and plopped in the middle of the floor to devour her treasure with gusto. Not two candies in and I was busted. The crackling of the wrappers were the giveaway. I know this now. Ha! Every time we get to talking about memories or stories, the kids request that one. They always laugh and so do I.

Last weekend on our way to Jace's scrimmage (Go Jace!) this story came up. Something clicked. I don't know why it did, maybe it was to commemorate the 87 thousandth time this story had been rehashed. Whatever the reason, I'll take it. Between doling out snacks and reciting the towel story, Mike and I were discussing what our month would look like, in particular, an upcoming event where we will have the privilege of sharing our experience with foster care alongside the Foster Home Developer from our agency. We hope we'll be able to shed some light on the 'unknown' aspect of foster care. Letting people into our family bubble is something we love to do. Since the beginning of our journey though, we've run into something a bit uncomfortable for us- accolades.

People are so kind and sincere when they tell us we're 'amazing!', or that I'm 'supermom', or that what we're doing is 'so awesome!', and our responses tend to miss the mark at expressing how we feel when we hear these things.

What we'd like to say is that we are just doing our Right Thing. Foster care is not everyone's Right Thing and that's ok, but it is our Right Thing. We don't feel extraordinary. We're not. Mostly we feel stretched and pulled- achy from the combination of joy and uncertainty that we're living. The truth of it is that on the eve we were issued our facility number  I almost pulled the plug. I was confronted with the reality of the brokenness we would encounter, and I wanted to run. Wanted desperately not to care. Asked God if maybe I'd misunderstood the thing we were supposed to do. After some time, the conviction I felt and the trust I was extending that He would know the best way to navigate the storms ahead was enough to move forward. Barely.

The sobering conclusion I came to was that knowing about the plight just beyond the horizon of my comfort zone and making a conscious decision to put my head back in the sand was the wrong thing. It was irresponsible. Unbeknownst to me, our sweet LG was being born that very same night. Had I decided that my fears outweighed my faith, she would still have been born. CPS would have *hopefully* quickly found a home for her, and she would have *hopefully* been just fine. Shielding my eyes from the sharp glare of the world of foster care wouldn't have meant that it was gone, only that I was choosing not to look at it. For me that was unacceptable.

You'll find no evidence of a hero complex here. We're not out to save anyone. Jesus has that covered and He's good at His job. We are just living out our Right Thing. My desire is to have hands that hold the broken and legs that leave a lasting legacy by the miles that they walk. We deserve no veneration, expect no accolades. Our desire? For our children to know who we are by the things we do and not by the words we say. Our hope? That doing our best to normalize foster care would one day lead to a county where being a foster family is the rule rather than the exception. 

The danger that hides within words meant to encourage is that setting our family apart as 'amazing' or 'incredible' implies that there's something different from "them" and "us". It creates a chasm that leaves potential foster families far from those that have gone before. There are children right now who are waiting for a home-  these Littles don't need 'incredible'. They're not looking for 'amazing'. A safe place, with arms that hug, and a heart that's willing will do just fine.

Building bridges out of knowledge that may lead to an abundance of safe and loving nests for kids to land in? That's incredible. That's amazing. That's what we need. That's what we want to be a part of.

Here's where I tell you what I meant when I said "things clicked". In my story from earlier I reasoned with my toddler wisdom that if I just covered myself up really well, no one would see me. I could hide beneath this flimsy piece of fabric and it would shield me from consequences and responsibility. I think sometimes it's easy to be that toddler, covering ourselves with our words, our motives, our shoulda, coulda, woulda's. But people see who we are by our actions. The towel could have been a tent and I would have still been found out because I was in the middle of the room! My words can wrap around me, but they're invisible. I'll still be seen- because it's my actions that will tell my story. I want my children to find their Right Thing, have the courage to step out of their bubble and into the adventure that comes with 'yes'.