Foreigners to Family

When Matt and I were dating, I casually made the comment one evening that if he wanted a big family like his own (he's the oldest of five), then we probably weren't the right match. I have one sister, and at the time, I considered two to be the perfect number of children for any family. Since I knew everything in my twenties, no one would have been able to convince me otherwise. Matt sweetly responded that two kids sounded good to him. Today, as five precious little girls get into my mini-van in the school car line, I wonder what God thought then. Did He laugh at my small dreams or just shake His head at my ignorance? 

Fifteen years ago, if you had told us that God would take us on a roller coaster adventure of infertility, ministry, and parenthood that would ultimately lead to a home filled with five little ladies between the ages of five and nine, I don't know if we would have laughed or cried. However, here we sit, a year into our foster parenting adventure the bio-parents to two little miracles and the foster parents to three little survivors. 

The birth of our first daughter taught me so much about the fierce, unwavering, unconditional love my heavenly Father has for me. Being a foster parent has taught me so much about who I was before He adopted me into His family and gave me His royal inheritance. 

Our first foster placement rocked and shocked me. Someone dropped off two strangers at my house, and within minutes these little people were calling me Mommy and looking to me to provide them with their needs and wants. They brought with them unfamiliar customs, strange speech, and colorful history. They made incessant and unreasonable demands and had angry and violent outbursts. They wrote on my walls, cut my curtains, tore my throw pillows, and made ugly faces when eating my food. They had never been to a library, a museum, or a zoo. They had never had a bike of their own or one of those spinny, electric toothbrushes. They had lived in poverty, without consistent love, provision, or safety. Now they were here with me, expecting and hoping for so much but also clinging tightly to the life they were leaving behind. 

In the months that followed, when exhaustion and frustration made me want to give up, the Spirit would whisper to my heart, remember, this was you. You were lost and Fatherless. You brought with you the strange customs of this world. You had nothing and knew nothing. You needed everything your new life offered, and yet you clung tightly to your old, familiar life. Love and accept these children as I first loved and accepted you. 

This life isn't rosy and it certainly is not easy. Someday I'll tell you about all the things I learned about my weaknesses and sinful, selfish nature, and how I still struggle with it daily; but today I celebrate that God's plans are bigger than mine and that the Spirit's power is greater than my weakness. Today I celebrate that God has blessed my family and friends with a part in His rescue plan for kids and families in need. I celebrate that God chose to welcome me into His home and family despite my foreign ways, and I pray that He continues to transform my heart into one that looks more like His.