Pain

I'm in uncharted territory here. 

Pain.

That's not new.  but this kind is.  waves of it washing over me. 

I have spent hours in a basket with a pillow cradling my phone with tears of "I can't do this" streaming over the words of my heart.  I can't.  Truly; and I haven't. 

And that was just living with a child with Reactive Attachment Disorder (RADs).  My now 9 year old soon-to-be-if-I-can-survive-him son is like being water-boarded with bad behavior.   Everyone in the house is recoiling.  It's a different kind of discomfort.  The kind that is in your home from the time you wake up until the time you go to bed and follows everyone around.  The kind you can't run from (I've tried), pray away, or ignore.  It.sucks.  Living with a child so broken his only goal is to break you back.  Where does one draw the line?  I've drawn it a million times.  I simply cannot reconcile quitting on him. I am so thankful that the Bible outlines love as being long suffering, patient, kind.  Not warm and fuzzy feel good.  Love can suck sometimes.  Pretty sure it sucked being beaten, mocked, and nailed to a cross. 

sigh.

And then the phone rings.  It's the first night of my Hero's long awaited blissful vacation.  DHS has an almost 2 year old with allergies and a 5 year old with autism...could we take them?  I cradled the phone as I asked OA and was ready to not sleep from guilt over saying no when my Hero says, "Yes, how could we not?".

{Let's pause.  This is a man who is at wit's end with "the one" child's behavior who is about to start his vacation who said NEVER to adopting...much less...fostering...yeah...him!}

We scurry around...toddler proof the house...OA goes to the store and buys diapers and sippy cups and toys and what-ever-else kids love...oh...and a Thomas the Train...because he is that amazing (boy...autism...sigh).

When the workers finally got the kids to us I was completely disturbed by how horrific the baby's skin looked.  She looked like a burn victim due to her allergies.  And she was so tiny and still on a bottle and formula.   It was awful.  And then I met Spider-Man.  It was true love at first sight.  He has J-bob's old joy and enthusiasm  for life.  It instantly transported me back to when my babies were babies.  {My God...I would give anything for one day with each of them just one more time as babies.  sigh.}

He calls me Superwoman...and thinks I'm "awesome".  He and his sister have breathed so much love and joy and healing back into our home.  I asked my Hero why he thought it was so simple and easy with MORE and he said:  I think you've wanted a baby for so long...and now you have one...

My heart is in knots.  They had court today and have a family member willing to step up and watch them.  I met the mom and dad(s) today.  I hugged the mom.  I gave her my phone number.  I felt my heart wretch as we pulled away with her screaming baby in my van while she collapsed upon the steering wheel of her truck.

Why do parents have to make bad choices?  My 7 year old came to me with tears in her eyes and asked the same thing.

sigh sigh sigh SIGH


So I try to find my way around this new kind of pain.  I'm thinking much like running...I better learn to dance with it...make it count...because I cannot think of a better way to spend my tears than over the precious lives of children God loans to me.  Tonight, I am a family of 8.  Tomorrow...who knows...but as His mercy falls, I'll raise my hands to the God who gives...and takes away.