I have not been depressed since I stopped taking hormones to regulate my period, which I only tried for a month or so.  When I stopped I felt so much better, I was just so happy not to feel that way.  I have had sucess with new medication, and my period is regular again, for now.  The thought of loosing my period feels horrible somehow…at least in my early 40’s it seems to soon.  Is it part of God’s plan?

I haven’t written in a while and looking back is interesting.  I need to write more often, even with my busy summer schedule because I find I take a harder look at myself.  I haven’t been depressed for about 2 whole months, and I honestly thought it had been 6 months since my last depression-that is how long it seems.  When you have been battling forever, two months is an eternity.

I have however, run up against myself in other ways and found myself crying out to God for help dealing with 20+ children in my summer program.  Thankfully my aide is wonderful, but two days a week< when numbers are lower, I am working alone.  God has carried me and I am grateful.

Yet there has been a nagging sense lately that I am very comfortable.  I get up, do devotions, exercise and go to work.  At night I eat with my husbaand, we walk the dog, take showers, do devotions, and watch Nexflix programs, often with ice cream, and go to bed.  Saturdays we can sleep in if we want or do whatever WE want, unless, of course we get invited somewhere or invite someone else over.  Sundays if we are not with family are very restful.  We even take naps sometimes.  things we could not do if we had children.  I love my husband and the weekends are too short yand I want more time with him.  THe truth is we are busy and often run around a lot doing errands on Saturday, but arer free to do them together without worry.  I do a lot of summer lesson planning.  Children would make those things harder, right?  Yet I, who am “worried” about aging find myself living in some cases as an older person whose kids have flown the coop.  I often find myself cat napping on the weekends.  Maybe I just feel guilty about everything, who knows.  Yet amidist the Ice Cream and television programs and air conditioned bedroom I feel comfortable, and insulated.  Is this what it means to be a believer?

Enter the in laws.  I saw my father in law, my siister in law, her husband and two kids this Sunday.  I wish I had a book for that uncomfortable hour or so no one talked and everyone was one their cell phone, except dad, who quietly enjoyed the veiw of the lake.  I usually play kingwith the kids but was tired, restless, and board.  I found myself thinking “I work with kid’s all week.  I am taking time off from children.”  However, I was unable to resist the urge to “run” with them.  This game basically consisited of  my sister in Law, Mallory running in circles around Dad;s house, trailed by her five year old daughter and two year old son.  I feel a strange discomfort in those moments-not jealous, just…out of place.  I felt the need to jump in, maybe for fun, maybe not to feel akward. We had brought our little poochan and soon I had her running around with the children.  My brother in law got in the mix and soon the children were rolling around on the grass with him, wrestling.  I sat on the law, leggs folded into a pretzle shape, just making myself available.

The two year old broke away from his dad.  He ran over to me, gave me one of his shy smiles, and trough himself into my arms and gave me a long, deep, hug-snuggle.  I was moved.  My neice did it too after him and boy those kids know how to hug like they mean it.  I don’t see them as often as I would like-maybe once a month at best, and I was pleasantly surprised by it.  Geoff and I had been discussing adopting a foster child, and when my nephew through himself into my arms, I felt like God was showing me there was a child out there, not an infant, waiting for me, ready to through themselves into my arms and hug me.  Broken children are after all still children.  Love wins.

Yet that was just a momement and my feelings and insights change and come and go.  Still, I cannot ignore it.  I have to push forward and try.  This involves risk,  Taking in a child that has been through hell.  I want to be excited, yet I find I am angry.

“Really, God, this is the way you want me to do things?  Why cant I just do it the easy way and have my own child? A child the DSS can’t take away because they’re a bad match! I shared my experience with my husband, who had wanted to foster all along. MY main objction became taking the required classes to be able to foster or adopt a foster child. “I don’t want to take those seven classes” I fumed I had looked them up before.  The topics included things like PTSD and Sexual Abuse and such.  “I don’t want to hear endless stories of abused children!  I am afraid the rage I once felt as a victim will boil up inside me and I will become a tigress who wants to hunt down the $%***%!! who abuse children and beat them senseless (as if I could) or shoot them dead!  I am afraid of my inner deamons, not theirs! Just like that stupid adoption class we took about adopting an infant and how to talk to them about their birth mothers. I pulled out my best mocking sing song tone “Your birth mother put bad things that hurt her into her body so she couldn’t take care of you.  Like that is an answer that will not confuse a five year old.  It isn’t an answer.  There is NO answer to these kind of hurts but Jesus.  I don’t know how he healed me but He did-nit some book or some course or getting some answer.  it was Him.  I calmed down a little “I guess you have to try to tell them something…”

I am still angry this morning.  Irrationally.  At God, my husband, the world.  I thought I heard Jesus tell me to write in detail about my past.  It didn’t seem plausable. I had to cover for a few months when someone quit while they hired someone who was actually going to work.  I wondered if I was wallowing in my past, having a victim mentality.  Now I am in a place where I feel angry and I don’t know why.  Maybe I do.  My heart is hard.  It is easy when busy to forget the past.  To be in my suburban town with middle class and upper middle class kids.  to shut off the news and believe that life is safe an comfortable.  I never had that experience before.  Now I run the risk of being confronted with evil.  All the old struggles emerege.  How can a loving God let little children be hurt so badly?  Why aren’t these monsters punished?  Why is life hard?

Another thought, a radical one emerges.  These monsters are people.  People God created and loves.  The world is full of wheat and weeds growing together.  God has a purpose and a plan in all of this.  The Kingdom of God is not fully realized but it is here.

The other thing is my own hard heart, a heart afraid of being hurt.  Yet I am good with children-dispite all my flaws- can I burry my tallent in the ground because I am afraid?  Can I sow seeds in a hurting heart and trust God to do the rest, whatever the outcome.  I can’t save anyone.  That pisses me off too.  I could take in a child, do everything right, and they could still end up a mess.  But I want to save them! I want to love them and get through to them! I want to make a difference.  Perhaps this is the desire of God, a God good enough to give His children, free will.

I have no idea where this path is leading, or even if it is the right one lord.  Forgive my hard heart, and help me be made new.  Thy will be done.  Yet Lord only by grace can I know and do your will.  Guide protect and lead my husband and I.  Change our hearts, not just our situation.  Amen.






Published by


An imperfect and broken woman, I seek to know God better believing His promise "to make all things new..." one day at a time, one moment at a time.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s