My family is falling apart and I can’t do anything about it.
There are family photos in my house. All over my house. But they aren’t my family anymore. The word “family” is peeling off my wall and it is a declaration of things to come that laughs in my face, but I can’t take it down for fear it might come true. My family is falling apart, and I can’t do anything about it.
Becoming a mother teaches you a lot about prayer; being a foster mom shoves you to your knees in a way that you think you can’t possibly get up again. I never understood the verse “Pray without ceasing.” Surely God doesn’t mean all we’re supposed to do is pray, right? Oh, I get it now.
Folding laundry, “Lord help us”
Teaching shapes “ God I don’t understand”
Writing papers “Father have mercy”
Making coffee “I promise I will do better if you spare my family, also please make this keurig work again?”
El ROI, See your son! – This is the constant prayer of my heart.
To the Foster Mama deep in the chaos and pain of the lives of your precious ones…
I hear you say “It hurts!” “How can this be right?” “How could God cause me to live a life of loving others deep when it hurts so much?”
I hate Romans 8:28. That’s the truth. If I had a penny for every time someone looked at my physical pain and chronic health issues or my family situation and with all the good intentions in the world quoted this verse I’m sure you can imagine the riches I would have. Recently, I found myself drawn back to that verse and only got through the first three words. “And we know…” Forget the plethora of promises that follow those three sweet words.
And we know. This confidence “a skyscraper of a promise with a foundation in eternity” (Aaron Coffey). Foster Mama, you can’t screw this up. This “case” as they call them, meaning of course the precious child snuggled sleeping in our arms, has its foundation in eternity. And yes, I know that “tears roll down your face because the pain is so bad, but there can still be joy in the heart because you believe in the end of this story!” (A. Coffey)
The end of this story…
Whether your story with your little one is just beginning or coming to a painful end you HAVE to believe in it because of those three simple words.
And I know…
I sat in the back of the sactuary with sniffly baby wraped tightly in cloth around my body. Her breathing steady and slow.
For the words I am trying to sing with my body Christ,
“…Help us grasp the heights of Your plans for us—
Truths unchanged from the dawn of time
That will echo down through eternity.
And by grace we’ll stand on Your promises,
And by faith we’ll walk as You walk with us…”
I lay my head back against the wall and let the words rush through my soul as I claim the words for my son. My son who recently became a child of God. The words from the Son of God to my son from another man.
El ROI see your son.
John 11:41 “Thank you God that you have heard me.”
In all the unceasingness of my prayers, though the enemy would have me to feel they are hitting the ceiling and falling down hard onto my soul, he does hear.
El Shama, God who hears, hear my plea
El Roi, God who sees, see your son
“I know you see me, I know you hear me Lord…”