965 Days.

Parenting is hard. Literally just saying those 3 words will get 95% of people (made up statistic, just in case) to shout a hardy, “yep” or “amen”. It is because it’s true. Parenting is hard.

That said, as a Foster Parent you are confronted with so many challenging scenarios that you tend to forget how tough being a “normal” parent can be. I will spare you the icky details. Nevertheless Foster Parenting confronts you with some realities that all parents face, yet they are often magnified by Foster Care.

An example — So little is truly certain for anyone in life. We aren’t promised tomorrow, we can’t be sure a loved one won’t fall ill, we cannot predict the outcome of jobs, education, etc. We strive in life to reduce risk to the best of our ability. But so little is truly certain. Foster Care magnifies this to a level I’d never previously experienced. I can get a text/email/call from a caseworker, court officer, etc., (even one I know and trust) and still my heart skips. Because you literally never know what new thing you may find out. Often it’s nothing, yet sometimes everything changes again. Then you’re faced with the only option, soldier on. Naturally this is not different than any parent, it’s just tremendous how much this is in. your. face. every. moment.

So before you assume all doom and gloom, there is light and beauty in this. It has forced surrender in my life. It has forced me to trust God more deeply. I have no other option. I have really been wrestling with this lately (my apologies if someone has caught me deep in thought lately and I seemed frazzled). And as I have wrestled with this I remembered something I prayed for, daily, for probably years. I (foolishly, kidding. sort of…) prayed that God would give me big faith. I prayed God would make me “steadfast”, unshakable, resolute, unhesitating. I wanted to be a man who would not be swayed easily. I wanted to trust God more completely. I wanted to surrender with absolute certainty, over and over each day. I wanted to really learn to “Abide in Christ”. I hope you are seeing where this is going. I am certainly a long way from where I’d hoped I’d be by now, but I see glimpses of this. I see moments where God has grown me deeply. This journey, the 965 days that my beautiful children have been in our home, has wrecked me. It has wrecked me repeatedly. And thank God it has. I still want to be “in control” and “over-prepared” too much. I need to be wrecked.

These 965 days have humbled me, daily humbled me. I remember I don’t have it all together. I can’t save as much money as I’d like. I don’t have the energy I wish I did. I can’t sit and rest 1/4 of as much as I’d like. I have obligations. I have responsibilities. I have dreams. I have hopes. And because these 965 days have broken me over and over — I can see more of the incredible story God is unfolding and how He is showing His grace, His mercy & His love. And thank God that He keeps destroying the parts of me that war against Truth, war against Beauty, and war against restoration.

A good friend, who since has moved away and I don’t get to catch up with him as often as I wish I could, told me something many years ago. We were in a deep discussion about some very difficult circumstances and somehow I brought up the idea of “fight or flight”. I told him that I wasn’t 100% sure, but I liked to think I was of the “fight” camp. He quietly asked why, I made my poorly thought out case, and he replied with, “no”. He told me he thought there was a third option. He believed there were those who neither ran (took flight), nor fought (fight), but a third group who was able to stand resolute, unwavering & steadfast in the midst of turmoil & trouble. He very kindly told me that he believed me to be one of those rare folks in the third category, who stood fast, no deep desire to fight or flee. In my foolish pride, I quickly dismissed his words as too kind, and didn’t really make much of it. But over the years, that conversation has come to mind a couple times. And tonight while sitting on the back porch praying about tomorrow and thinking back over the past 965 days, that conversation with my friend came to mind. And I realized the gravity of his compliment. I still don’t feel worthy of such an accolade, but I am coming to realize his wisdom. I am not someone who needlessly fights, and I am certainly not someone who flees from trouble. Foster Care has shown me the truth in what he said to me that night. Thank God that my friend saw that in me, and thank God that He blessed me with that trait. And thankfully God has reminded me of that conversation a few times when I needed to hear it again.

I suppose I shared that story with you about my good friend & his kind words somewhat out of “processing” it myself and realizing it more deeply tonight than before. And out of thankfulness that God saw fit to use Clara and I to love these kids. I am thankful God used us to stand steadfast for them.

I am probably rambling and need to wrap it up… brevity is something I love, and fail at miserably. I have found myself telling the story of what God is unfolding before us more often lately in conversations. That in our kids lives, they have experienced brokenness and the effects of sin and evil that I wish never had to be part of their story. But for all the potential hurt, pain, sadness & brokenness in the world (and there is plenty more) — God is making something amazing, beautiful and sacred. God is redeeming the brokenness in their lives, giving them a home, a Mom & Dad who love them beyond measure, a family, a safe place to thrive and flourish, a place to belong. Their story, is a story of incredible beauty. Beauty that my words just don’t do justice.

It’s beautiful because it is the Gospel. It is the story of our brokenness too. And a tangible embodiment of the love God has for us. And how God is redeeming and restoring the lives of those who love Him.

There is so much brokenness in the world. There is so much to be in doubt of, fear of, frustration over, you name it. But there is even more hope. And thank God for that.

Trapped.

In light of the bizarre impact Coronavirus has had on the entire world. I have been reflecting about how trapped, frustrated & helpless so many people feel. In a weird way, it’s really not a foreign feeling for Foster Parents. It’s a daily reality, now it just has the added “joy” of a virus to make it more complex and widespread for everyone else.

Something I have become more and more convinced of the longer we’ve remained in the Foster Care system is this — the system sworn to protect and cherish children, that system itself causes trauma.  It causes trauma for the children, the foster families, parents, everyone.  Let me clarify, it is different trauma (likely) than what caused the move into Foster Care initially — but trauma nonetheless.

My initial reaction is to blame the system, condemn it & use it as the scapegoat for my frustrations when they arise.  But the calmed down retrospective part of me knows that isn’t the answer.  That said, the system is flawed, broken, slow, bogged down, bloated & wastes money.  The system is not great.  But on the other side, the system is a result of the brokenness in the world that it was created to handle.  It (the system) is dealing with heartbreaking situations, problems & brokenness no one would ever want to wish upon their worst enemy.  And as a result, because every situation, child, family & case is different — there is this unnecessary, yet unavoidable, tension between common sense and following every protocol.

So I guess the point in writing this is to ask myself a question.  What is the Christlike response to feeling trapped, backed into a corner, helpless?  If we Christians want to redeem & restore the brokenness in the world, as we are called to do, what does that look like in a messy & frustrating system (that we may or may not agree with)?  What does it look like to not force our agenda, our will, our preferences — but to balance that with common sense and truly act in the BEST interest of others (including Foster Children)?

I keep asking myself this question because as a Foster Parent, I have never felt more powerless, hopeless and backed into a corner over the last few years.  Now before you panic and question my faith in God’s sovereignty and faithfulness — remember, feelings aren’t always truth.  Feelings can mislead, can be sinful & flawed.  But regardless, we are emotional beings, and feelings are unavoidable.  The trouble comes in how we react, how we process them and the actions we take.  I want to react well in the face of feeling powerless, pushed around & trapped.  I want to stand up with gracious boldness to face the uncertain, the unnecessary & the unfairness.

So, whether it’s questioning the brokenness of the system, or evaluating my response to the feeling of powerless waiting — what is the response that will help point to Christ, the response that can help restore brokenness, the response that minimizes the “trauma” of the Foster-world?  What is the response that helps redeem the ugly broken world that our kids have no choice in floating through?

What does it look like to exist in and simultaneously seek to redeem a broken world? I pray about this a lot — and tonight while watching/singing songs with the kids, we listened to an old favorite, and it reminded me of an important place to rest in. Below is part of the Andrew Peterson’s song, “Dancing in the Minefields”:

“At the end of all my faith, till the end of my days
When I forget my name, remind me.
‘Cause we bear the light of the Son of Man,
So there’s nothing left to fear.
So I’ll walk with you in the shadowlands,
Till the shadows disappear.
‘Cause He promised not to leave us,
And his promises are true.”

It’s curious, but this too reminds me that in this world we will be uncertain of much, there is plenty to fear, we can always find something in which to be anxious about — but that’s ok. We bear the light of the Son of Man (Jesus), and we won’t have every answer, but we can keep walking and trusting — because the promises ARE true.

p.s. nothing horrible has happened, please don’t panic — just processing the realities of Foster Care and seeing the weird emotional similarities to COVID world.  Even when life is beautiful, the kids are wonderful & life is full of blessing — Foster Care is hard & our goal in sharing our journey is to just share what families go through.  So no need to worry or panic 🙂

2 years.

Two years.

Two years ago you made me a Dad.

You weren’t what I was expecting. But, you were perfect. You are perfect. I was scared, excited, anxious, hopeful, joyful & broken. But you were there — and I loved you from the moment you came home. Your Mom and I still catch ourselves weeping, momentarily unaware that we love you so much, and we are overcome by the feeling. You are home. Because of you, my children, I have learned more deeply than ever before what it means to be home.

I remember the morning you came — I was taking a shower, like normal — and singing in the shower, which I can’t do now (because you’ll wake up). And for whatever reason, the song I was singing caused me to tear up — now I know — my heart was being broken because you were coming home. And I needed to be broken of pride, self-confidence & perhaps self-reliance. God (in His infinite wisdom & providence) knew you were coming home, for the first time. And God knew that it would be the most wonderful & challenging season of life thus far. And any attempt to lean on my own wisdom, knowledge, cunning & pride would be my downfall —

Certainly I was in over my head. Which is why I believe God was preparing my heart that morning. Knowing that I MUST lean on God to be a good Dad, to lead our home well, to take on the seemingly crazy challenge of a baby & a toddler, only to have another baby come within a few months. To deal with the unexpected, terrifying & beautiful things to come.

But now we are here — 2 years later. You make me crazy, I am tired, money is less, house is a disaster — and I love every single moment. Every crazy night, unexplainable meltdown, cleaning food all over the floor, stepping on cars in the dark — worth it.

There is an Andrew Peterson song, Family Man (I’ve mentioned it before), and he has a line that goes, “And I don’t remember anymore, who I even was before…” — it’s simple, but it sums up the last 2 years. And I love it.

Prayer Need —

To our Family & Friends — we have a sincere prayer need.

Clara & I hold our cards pretty close, trying not to over-share the perils we have experienced in “Foster World” and generally seek to share the blessings. We don’t want family & friends to panic, knowing we can’t and don’t want to share every detail. Likewise, it’s never been helpful to dwell on the negative.

That said, we truly need prayer. There is so much uncertainty in the plan for our kids to be home with us forever. It is agonizing to feel as though we are closer, and then in one text message, phone call or sentence — everything changes again. Hope seems crushed and the timeline becomes more and more elusive.

We live in a sort of “in-between” place. We live between the black and white — in the many obnoxious and ever changing shades of gray. It plays itself out in many ways, and when we speak of the beautiful life we have, we truly mean that. But with the same breath, we sense the fragility of our beautiful life with our children. So really we live life like this list below:

  • We are concerned, but we know God is faithful.
  • We are exhausted, but we rest in every morning’s new mercies.
  • We want kids adopted, and we know God is growing us in the waiting.
  • We live in constant chaos & uncertainty, but God is good.
  • We are terrified, yet confident in God’s providence.
  • We are anxious, and hopeful.
  • We are frustrated, but we are content.
  • We are not okay, but we ARE okay.
  • We want this to be over, but trust in God’s timing.
  • We weep without knowing exactly why, and we laugh with full joy.
  • We are doubters, but God is ALWAYS good.

We live this weird in-between life — it’s painful and beautiful in the same breath.

There are many great songs by Andrew Peterson, but one that always comes to mind is a recent song, “Always Good”. You should really listen to the whole song, because the few lines I will copy over will not have the full effect:

  • “Somehow this sorrow is shaping my heart like it should”
  • “Well it’s so hard to know what You’re doing. Why won’t You tell it all plain?”
  • “So maybe the answer surrounds us. But we don’t have eyes to see”
  • “This heartache is moving me closer than joy ever could”
  • “As we try to believe what is not meant to be understood”
  • “Will You help us to trust Your intentions for us are still good?”

To be fair, that’s a majority of the song… but it always comes back around to “You’re Always Good”. And in the midst of the fear, the frustration, the impatience, the laughter, the joy & the sorrow — we need reminders like that. Because honestly, we lack the words to process our emotions and thoughts sometimes.

So we humbly ask, please pray for our little family. We tend to shy away from asking for prayer so we don’t cause undue concern in our community (so many of you graciously care about our kids with all your hearts) — but we are long overdue in asking for our family and friends to pray boldly for our children to be officially home. If you can, please pray for us.

Open Letter to my Children on Father’s Day Weekend

Dear Kids —

I hope you know how much your Dad loves you. The three of you make up 3/5 of the top five things I think about each day, and 99.9% of the time — it is paired with a smile. But never forget, your Dad loves you exactly as you are, forever.

This is my second Father’s Day being a Dad, of course I didn’t expect to go from 0 to 3 in 7 months, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love our story, I love the chaos, I love the giggles & the laughter, and I love the imperfections of everything. You are what makes our story perfect.

Every single night when I tuck you in, and we pray together (and pray for all the cute stuff you think of and long list of people you love) — I ask God to help me be a good Dad, and thank Him for letting me be your Dad and ask God every night to let me be your Daddy forever. Even though right now when I ask God to let me be your Daddy forever, I am thinking about how we long to adopt you and make it official forever — I will always want to be your Daddy, your safe place, your biggest encourager, your home. And that will not change once a piece of paper legally says I am your Daddy.

Children, I also want you to know this. You were not my Plan B. You weren’t the backup plan. You weren’t a side thought. You weren’t our last resort. You are God’s perfect plan. Some day we will tell you the story and all the threads we can now later see that God was weaving together for the perfect time — but God so clearly brought you here. It wasn’t conventional, but it’s beautiful. Your Daddy (and Mommy) love you more than you could know. God prepared our hearts at the right time when he knew you’d be ready to come home to us. And thank God for that. But never for a moment believe that you weren’t the plan. You were God’s plan, and you were my plan. Your Dad loves you more than he can convey.

Looking back on my life and honestly thinking, I have a lot to be thankful for & proud of. But when it comes right down to it — none of that big worldly stuff, or accomplishments, mean anything to me when I compare it to you. All that “stuff” pales in comparison. Watching you grow, helping to raise you in The Lord, is literally the best and most amazing, humbling, thing I have ever been allowed to be a part of. Getting to be your Dad is the best. Everything else could be stripped away — but being able to love you each day and help you discover the world brings me more joy than I ever thought possible.

There are so many other things I would love to say to you, but we’ll leave it here. I love each of you (all three) in your quirky and beautiful ways. I will always thank God I get to be your Dad. But this weekend, on Father’s Day — thank YOU for letting me be your Dad.

Love Always,

Your Dad

Foster Mom? Super Mom.

Something happens occasionally in Foster Parent life that is just weird. You’re not totally regarded as a “real parent”.

(Small disclaimer before you panic & worry you said something wrong today — haha NO! All is well, fret not.)

But every once in awhile, yet probably too often, small passing comments are made (very innocently I am sure) that imply the idea, “well you’re not a real parent…” — again, innocent, not meant to be harsh or condescending — it just strikes in an odd way. And the unfortunate part of it is, those are the very comments the Enemy (Satan) uses to rattle Foster Parents and make them feel less worthy, less valuable, less like “real parents”.

The plain simple truth is — that’s of course not true, especially for Foster Moms. And their hearts are certainly the ones that dearly need that constant assurance of their wonderful sacrifice, particularly when there isn’t as much certainty in their children’s futures. Something that most moms don’t have to worry about.

Reality is, Foster Moms are amazing. They give the love, the nurturing, the family & the home that children need. They give themselves to their children without the comfort of knowing if their kids will stay forever. And that is amazing. Foster Moms certainly shouldn’t be considered just Foster Moms, they are super-Moms.

And that’s what my kids Mom (my wife) is like. She is a super-Mom. She loves and protects and nurtures and adores our wild brood of kiddos with her whole heart. Even when unintentionally “tough to hear” comments come, even when the Enemy makes her feel less valuable & important — she gives her heart to our kids. And that makes her just as much a Mom regardless of the “legal status” of our kids. She loves her kids no matter what life throws at us. And thank God for her.

Here’s the honest truth. Foster Care is messy, and people don’t always know what to say, and that’s okay! Honestly sometimes we don’t know what to say either. This is where grace comes in. Thank God, literally.

We Foster Parents are blessed, blessed to be a blessing. And I have come to think that sharing our story is part of the attempt to bless others with all we’ve been blessed with through our precious kids. I am just beyond grateful my wife blesses me and the kids day after day after day.

Thoughts at 33

On the eve of my 33rd Birthday, a lot of thoughts have come to mind. I wonder if 33 is hitting me with a little more gravity and weight than 30 did. I guess time will tell.

I am finding myself more and more often struck with how beautiful life is, and then lamenting how frequently I forget that beauty. Perhaps it’s the massive shifts life has had the last 5 years, in particular the last year. Maybe it’s becoming a father that has caused a renewed retrospective on the past few years & introspective on priorities here & now. But regardless, I am oddly finding myself in a curious place in my mind and thoughts. Hopefully this brings me some clarity & maybe encourages others — or freaks them out… you never can tell with the ‘ol internet 😉.

There is so much talk in articles and in books about intentional living. There have been things on social media for years talking about ‘minimizing’ or ‘streamlining’ your life. I have read some of these items occasionally, but not a ton. But I am seeing the need, and the value in considering these things as life has moved forward. Much like the old adage, “if you don’t control your money, it will control you”, I know if I fail to cherish my time — it will be lost.

So perhaps this is a confession, or a sharing of my thoughts to give myself some pretend accountability — but I am most certainly putting these thoughts down to help me process and think it all through.

I don’t have the luxury of floating in life, the luxury of not taking my thoughts captive, taking my time captive — and using it for the things I find the most value in. And perhaps I should take that a step farther — the things I find the most value in that will help my family to grow in The Lord. And I think the tough reality is, if there are certain life-giving things, things I find value in — it means saying no to things that suck life, don’t give value to my family. Haha, aside from things like taxes or mowing the yard…

Things we value & give life to us:

  • Being healthy & focusing on it
  • More social. Less media.
  • Being able to laugh, a lot
  • Taking time to find joy in all the little stuff
  • Writing more (personal and letters)
  • Making time to be a home full of music
  • Spending time exploring and enjoying creation
  • Planting a garden for the kids to learn & building a chicken house for them to enjoy & help (specifically BIG chickens…)
  • Reading books together as a family
  • Slowing down enough to love those around us, teaching the kids to serve & love

I totally get that everyone has different things they find value in, no judgement — it’s definitely subjective to the person. And I want to have the margin in my life to cherish my wife, raise my children in a fun, relaxed & loving home and to live a life that brings life to others. And now that 33 has hit — something has triggered in my more deeply than it has before, it’s time for a new era of intentional living around the Maloy home. God-willing, it’ll be great.

I believe. Help my unbelief.

We have been quiet on here for a long while. I think partially because we don’t feel we have anything worthwhile or wise to share — or we have so much churning inside us that we have a hard time decompressing long enough to make sense of it. I suppose that lack of time is partly the blessing/burden of Foster Care and part is probably the blessing/burden of 3 kids 2 & under. Foster Care alone or having 3 littles is enough to exhaust you emotionally, physically & spiritually — but combining both just seems unreal at times. To be fair, most times are wonderful — but it doesn’t negate the struggles entirely.

There is so much uncertainty in our lives, uncertainty that we cannot try to manipulate and move in the direction we know is best. There is a lot of injustice in the Foster Care System too — and contradictions, even that completely blow off normal common sense. But that is the “system” — and we as Foster Parents lack the ability to influence the process in ways that common sense would deem totally appropriate. Alas, we are left between the proverbial “rock and a hard place”. And some days it hits us hard.

That said, when comforting and tucking in our precious, brave, sweet little Goose for bed tonight & praying with her while holding her in my arms & rocking her back and forth — a simple reminder (we can safely assume divinely inspired) came to mind. In the Gospel of Mark, Chapter 9, there is a story about a father who comes to Jesus asking desperately for healing for his child. The father is at his end, he has no more cards to play, no tricks he can pull, no influence he can wield to get what he wants — he is desperate. Just like I feel at times, more often than not. The story goes on to the plea the father makes to Jesus — the father asks Jesus, IF HE CAN, to please heal his child. Jesus (we can assume) calmly replies, “If I can? Anything is possible to he who believes”. The man quickly blurts out, “I believe! Help my unbelief!”, and Jesus proceeds to heal the child.

I am thankful for being reminded of that story (which is incidentally one of my all time favorites — short as it is). I am thankful because it is how I feel many days, especially today. I am desperate, I am at my end, I lack the influence, the tricks & cards — I have nothing. I MUST rely on my Heavenly Father to intervene — and I do believe, but God, help my unbelief. I will falter on my own, I will stumble — I will not be strong of faith, I will lose hope, I will not believe without His help.

And oh how I want hope — oh how I want to believe. Lord, help my unbelief.

p.s. nothing is changing as far as we know — just hard days to walk through with littles that don’t always understand.

Cherish?

I have always heard it said in movies, read it in books & online in blog articles, I’ve heard probably 50+ people say it since the kids first came home to us, “be sure and cherish these years, they are the best, you’ll blink and they’ll be gone…“. I totally believe this, and I know it’s important. And if you’re anything like me, you’re waiting for the ….but….?

This is hard for me, I’m naturally inclined to be a planner — shoot, even the Scout Motto is “Be Prepared”, and being a good Eagle Scout — that is definitely part of my life now (just ask my wife, it’s obnoxious 🤣). But being prepared isn’t always easy. And being hyper prepared probably makes it even harder to slow down, rest & cherish the moments and memories being made.

But slowing down enough to even rest & reflect on what I would love to cherish is hard! Our kids are toddlers after all, and there are two of them, 2 and a half and 1 and a half (and soon it will be 3!) — slowing down with those precious little people is not a feat easily done! I am still learning (nearly 9 months later) how to possibly find margin enough to rest. And in the moments I find a little rest, I struggle to remember to think back and cherish this whirlwind — because usually if I sit that still, I fall asleep 🙂

So back to that ‘…but…’ — I struggle with the cherishing. I guess this is my online confession. I want to cherish these moments, I want to enjoy everything, I want to smile & laugh more than think about all that has to be done — but it is hard. I let the ‘Eagle Scout’ in me take over & start to think about what we will do when we outgrow 1.5 Bathrooms, what happens when (not if) we need to have 2 vehicles that fit 5 of us? How can I possibly keep up with my ‘jungle yard’ and be a good Dad & Husband? You get the idea… I could go on and on. But these thoughts/concerns/plans consume me. And arguably, they might be helping to strip away my joy.

Because what makes this even harder, I can’t really make any plans — because our kids aren’t our kids yet. And I know, all children are God’s, and we absolutely view them as a blessing from God to steward, love & care for. But we aren’t their legal Mommy & Daddy yet. That fact alone makes so much of this planning nearly impossible. I know you could say none of us can know what God has for us later, and that is certainly accurate — but this is more real to us than ever before (in this situation). We have no idea what our future will hold, have our precious 3 found their forever home? We don’t know — and it’s brutal hard. It’s probably why I try TOO hard to plan out what I can in the future, because I can’t protect my kids & plan for their future yet the way a Birth Dad can.

But for now, I must learn to cherish. I want to be a good, consistent, loving, gentle father — and I am understanding more and more each day how vital “cherishing every moment” is to being that Dad.

More importantly, I think I need to remember how important it is to trust God, if He brought us into this new adventure, He has been overly faithful so far — knowing that, I need to surrender and be faithful to let Him guide me onward.

Deep breath. Yes.

“Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take up my yoke and learn from me, because I am lowly and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

— Matt. 11:28-30

God’s Faithfulness in Foster Care

Brian’s blog post a few nights ago motivated me to put some of my similar thoughts down so we could remember this journey more fully.

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In the past six months our new family of 4 + Beau the Border Collie have experienced an extreme amount of joy and more than our share of blessings. We wake up to mostly happy (we are still fully aware of “the Fall” and a lack of sleep is a direct result) and healthy toddlers who make us feel like we hung the moon and a few stars. In a lot of ways our journey so far has been a lot of sweet, and we have seen God’s faithfulness over and over again.

There has been so much good, but the reality of foster-care is that there is also a lot of unknown. The unknown is what brings me to my knees and reminds me of my need to cling to Jesus. There are twists and turns you don’t see coming, and sometimes they jolt you and startle you…and that’s okay, because it reminds me of my need of a Savior.

The Lord, in His faithfulness, has been teaching me that I may not see the outcome I want in this journey, but maybe I will. There is so much unknown….and that’s okay. It doesn’t make it easier or less hard, but what we as foster parents are doing (ALL of us, not just the Maloy clan) is of eternal significance.

In the midst of unknown, I do know that I must be fully present. I must be faithful to today and then faithful to tomorrow when it comes. Each day a gift and a new day to love these two treasures.

So, I must remember to trust, and in my trusting remember what’s completely out of MY control is completely in HIS. I’m called to be faithful, and my faithfulness is enough.

I’m not the savior of these kids. It’s my job to love them in the same way Jesus loves me and them – fully. In the known and the unknown on the good days and the bad, this journey is worth it.