I had a moment today. I was going to a meeting at a new school for my new foster placement. And as I left school at noon today, I had this terrible flashback to last April. I saw myself walk out of the building expecting a child and coming back to school as a crushed spirit.
I haven't talked much about what happened in April. Honestly, it wrecked me, traumatized me. Like, the kind of wrecked where I couldn't get out of bed, couldn't stop crying, couldn't function. Being a foster parent is interesting...I didn't carry the child in my body for 9 months, singing her songs and reading stories. But I prayed for her. I knelt on her floor and laid on her bed and prayed my guts out. I prepared the house for her: I bought a refrigerator full of groceries, a closet full of clothes, reorganized the bedroom...all the things that parents do.
I was supposed get that placement the week before. And then I tore my calf muscle and couldn't walk and we delayed the placement by a week. I was disheartened about delaying--I have literally been dreaming of being a foster parent as far back as I can remember. After getting my license I turned down several placements for various reasons, but finally said yes to this one. I talked with the foster family she was with, took pages of notes, got her into a new preschool, did all the paperwork, spent a week not sleeping, prepared everything.
And Friday, I left school at noon to go pick her up. I left nervously, anxiously. I had pep talks and words of encouragement from so many of my wonderful coworkers. There was literally nothing I could have done to be more prepared.
And I drove to the office with her carseat in my backseat and I put a picture on Snapchat of that empty carseat saying I was about to go fill it. And then I walked into the office and was told plainly that they placed her with another family and that someone was supposed to call me. I am thankful that I'm not the one who had to look into my eyes that day and watch the shock that I'm sure showed in my face. After the lady (I don't even remember her name or what she looked like) telling me 4-5 times that Little Miss had, in fact, gone to a different family and wasn't going home with me, I walked back to my car. I was in shock. I didn't know the area of town I was in very well, so I just started driving. And, I didn't really know where to go--I was supposed to be going home with a 5 year old to her freshly decorated bedroom and the refrigerator full of the foods I was told she loved. Where was I supposed to go?
I texted the handful of people that had been texting me well wishes before I went in. I messaged 11 people the exact same sentence: "They gave her to someone else." That was all I could even think to say. I knew enough to know that I couldn't go to my house, and I didn't have anywhere else to go, so I went back to work. To school, where my only real support system was. And I had to decide where to go first, where there wouldn't be any students. I went to the lunchroom, where I knew one of our secretaries was, and I just fell apart. That's one of 3 moments I remember from the rest of that day. The other two are going to our school nurse after school and being too weak to get myself out the door to force myself to go home. I didn't want to. I wasn't supposed to go home by myself.
I was convinced that God was mad at me. I had just come through a really rough season where many of my closest friends had stopped talking to me, I was anxious about foster care, there were some other life changes, and I had just been generally struggling. And I saw this as the light at the end of the tunnel. I had gone through all of those hard things, but now was okay, because finally this dream, this calling was going to be realized. I fought like hell through that season to not equate the way conditional people treated me with the way God treats me and loves me. But in that moment, in that office doorway, being told that after weeks of preparation Little Miss randomly got placed with another family the day before I was supposed to go get her without anyone telling me, I lost that belief.
It messed me up. I just slept. I felt like I wasn't human anymore. I finally made the decision to see a therapist because I was just traumatized. But God wasn't mad at me.
God wasn't mad at me.
God had a bigger plan in mind. The moment that it looked like God abandoned me was actually the moment that God was giving me something better. I just couldn't see it yet. Honestly, I still think about and pray for Little Miss. I still grieve that I didn't get to be part of her story, even though she is very much part of mine. But in July, I finally felt called to accept a new placement. And if I could've written you the best case scenario for me taking in a child, I would've written you this exact story. We are a great fit. The timing was perfect. He is so happy and so good and loves life. And tomorrow, his sister moves in. Possibly, they'll stay forever.
God knew what he was doing. And he was faithful to me even in the moment it looked like he absolutely left me crushed and alone. My inability to see the whole story didn't change God's ability to know what was best for me, and for that, I'm ridiculously thankful.
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