I'm writing this blog about 24 hours after finding out my friend, Aaron, passed away. My intent was to write the foster-part of this post yesterday... hours before our little one arrived. But then the bottom fell out again. The loss of another great man in my life. And all of the sudden my post seemed frivolous. Again, our focus shifted to the day at hand and the days to come. Our hearts became woven with Debbie's. And that was all that mattered.
But let me share with you our other news... We are finally licensed foster parents. 18 months after we began this process. 1 year after finishing MAPP. We are done. In fact, as I type these words, I'm waiting for our first little visitor to wake up. We are blessed to be providing weekend respite for a wee one- not a permanent placement, but 4 days of a little friend joining our family.
So many of you have followed our journey in the foster care world... and I wanted to let you know how we rejoice that we are now in the "next" phase. It's a bizarrely unknown time for us... just as the rest of 2012 has been. We are learning in new ways each day that it is so not about us- and that we are not in charge of what's next.
Here's what I can't tell you: much of anything else. As children come in and out our lives, I can't post about them, specifically. On any social media format, I can't post pictures, tell names, give details. When you meet them, of course you'll know more about them (like, with this one, how super cute she is!!), but I can't tell you details of why they are in care. I can't tell you (if I know) family specifics. I can't answer all the questions that we all typically have. An awkward predicament for a public-sharer like I am, but the "rules" nonetheless.
We are grateful to finally be at this place. And yet it feels beyond surreal. Days before she arrived at our house, I was in Asheville closing on the sale of my Daddy's house. Talk about the gamut of emotions...
But little did I know that those two things were just the beginning of the emotional journey ahead.
Here's what I can't tell you: why another great man is on this earth no more. I can't tell you why Debbie and her children are in the spot that they are right now- navigating life without their trailblazer. I can't tell you why within three months of each other two of my girlfriends have lost their husbands. Six children have lost their daddies. Shoot, within five months eight of us have lost our daddies. And it sucks. All of it.
I know what it's like to charter the world realizing each day that my Daddy is gone. Yet I had 36 years with him... not 8, or 7, or 4, or 1. I know what's it's like to look to your Daddy for an answer only to remember he's not there. And here's what I can't tell you: why those babies have to find that same moment of confusion so young.
I don't know what it's like to lose my husband. But in those moments of God-given empathy and understanding, I can imagine that loss. My heart aches for Debbie and Nicole... just aches. And I can't tell you why any of this has happened to either of them.
What I can tell you is that we are all hanging on by a thread. I missed gathering with friends yesterday and I'll miss praying with our church today because I was thrust into duties of being a Foster Mom. Ironic timing, and I can't tell you while it's lining up this way. I'm desperately wanting to be with my church body, but I'm trusting that instead I'm supposed to be here loving this sweet one instead.
I can't tell you why things happen this way.
But I can tell you this:
My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.
When darkness seems to hide His face,
I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.
His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.
When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.
On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.
This morning, Aaron is dressed in the righteousness of Jesus. I don't fully understand it. Nor do I expect to on this earth. I have learned since March that the only for-sure thing we have in this life is Jesus. And I'm thankful that Aaron is now sitting on that solid rock.
But let me share with you our other news... We are finally licensed foster parents. 18 months after we began this process. 1 year after finishing MAPP. We are done. In fact, as I type these words, I'm waiting for our first little visitor to wake up. We are blessed to be providing weekend respite for a wee one- not a permanent placement, but 4 days of a little friend joining our family.
So many of you have followed our journey in the foster care world... and I wanted to let you know how we rejoice that we are now in the "next" phase. It's a bizarrely unknown time for us... just as the rest of 2012 has been. We are learning in new ways each day that it is so not about us- and that we are not in charge of what's next.
Here's what I can't tell you: much of anything else. As children come in and out our lives, I can't post about them, specifically. On any social media format, I can't post pictures, tell names, give details. When you meet them, of course you'll know more about them (like, with this one, how super cute she is!!), but I can't tell you details of why they are in care. I can't tell you (if I know) family specifics. I can't answer all the questions that we all typically have. An awkward predicament for a public-sharer like I am, but the "rules" nonetheless.
We are grateful to finally be at this place. And yet it feels beyond surreal. Days before she arrived at our house, I was in Asheville closing on the sale of my Daddy's house. Talk about the gamut of emotions...
But little did I know that those two things were just the beginning of the emotional journey ahead.
Here's what I can't tell you: why another great man is on this earth no more. I can't tell you why Debbie and her children are in the spot that they are right now- navigating life without their trailblazer. I can't tell you why within three months of each other two of my girlfriends have lost their husbands. Six children have lost their daddies. Shoot, within five months eight of us have lost our daddies. And it sucks. All of it.
I know what it's like to charter the world realizing each day that my Daddy is gone. Yet I had 36 years with him... not 8, or 7, or 4, or 1. I know what's it's like to look to your Daddy for an answer only to remember he's not there. And here's what I can't tell you: why those babies have to find that same moment of confusion so young.
I don't know what it's like to lose my husband. But in those moments of God-given empathy and understanding, I can imagine that loss. My heart aches for Debbie and Nicole... just aches. And I can't tell you why any of this has happened to either of them.
What I can tell you is that we are all hanging on by a thread. I missed gathering with friends yesterday and I'll miss praying with our church today because I was thrust into duties of being a Foster Mom. Ironic timing, and I can't tell you while it's lining up this way. I'm desperately wanting to be with my church body, but I'm trusting that instead I'm supposed to be here loving this sweet one instead.
I can't tell you why things happen this way.
But I can tell you this:
My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.
On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.
I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.
Oh may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.
On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.
This morning, Aaron is dressed in the righteousness of Jesus. I don't fully understand it. Nor do I expect to on this earth. I have learned since March that the only for-sure thing we have in this life is Jesus. And I'm thankful that Aaron is now sitting on that solid rock.
 |
| taken from Aaron's Facebook page- where he spent this past Sunday morning. |
