Little Sis' class was passing me at school, and I turned to look for her. Her best friend took my hand and said, "Where is she?"
I squeezed her hand, escaped to my car, and I wept.
I wept over the regrets, and the failures, and the successes, and the birthdays, and the smiles, and the moments.
Then, I wailed.
Afterwards, I threw myself a full fledged pity party. It was more beautiful than anything you have ever attended, complete with a coke, chocolate, and a new pair of cowboy boots (which I did get an extra 30% off of because I said I was a foster parent).
I allowed myself to wallow over the fact that I sometimes feel that I'm not chasing anything. There's not a certain child's face I'm pursuing or a name I've chosen. There's no a paper trail I'm following.
It's just a big ball of tangled mess, that I continually find myself in the midst of, and if I look down the road 30 years, I only see a web even more dense.
So, I wailed some more.
Tears fell over the children we've had this last week, that I stayed up through the night with listening to stories of their momma, wiping their tears, and rocking them to sleep.
I wailed over the fact that they won't remember my name in a year.
I cried over the fact that I'm the one at parents' beckoned call for visits, rather than the other way around. I dwelt on the fact that I will never, ever remotely be known as her momma again, even though there were days I wanted it to pass quickly.
We say yes, to love fully, grieve, say yes, love and grieve again.
It's the cycle of our lives as foster parents.
Perhaps there are moments where the cycle is broken, and one stays a little longer than we could have dreamed, but the anticipation of a season ending is always before us.
You blink, and the season is over, and you wonder if your touch, your voice, your prayers will ever be remembered.
And in my moment of pity, my phone rang.
It was J's grandmother.
I couldn't answer, so I listened to the message.
Catie, J and I miss you all so. I've been praying for you and the new kids every single day, and especially Cinderella. You're our family. We miss you. Please call us. J wants to see his Mama and Daddy.
And I wept again. But this time I cried because...
I remembered how deeply I am loved, and because I am deeply loved, I can love without any guarantee of return or gain. Though that child may never remember, my prayers will never forget, as they are uttered before the throne because of the grace I know.
I am not the rescuer, but I am a slave to the Lover of my Soul, the Great Rescuer, Restorer and Redeemer.
I wept because I was reminded that I am only called to rest, and from that rest flows abundant love, of which He is the only source.
Don't forget after Valentine's comes my Birthday Party! Share, Give, Pray, and Commit!
Because He loves us so,