Some days it gets really real around here. You trauma mommas know what I mean. You don’t get time off for good parenting. You don’t even get credit for time served. Trauma doesn’t take a holiday or a nap so you don’t get one either.
Today it snowed. I think the snow is magical and I was expecting great things. I just love how everything is peaceful and shiny. It’s my favorite. I spent 2 hours filling out paperwork with toddlers running around me trying hard to break my resolve to finish, but I persevered! Magic was in the air.
Then, like it always does, the day went to the firey pit in an instant over a chore. I got upset, that triggered a fear response, and what do ya know I had damage to my home. I was holding it together as the only parent on duty while the older kids went into motion to control the other chaos and the younger children looked at me for answers.
Raising teenagers is tough. Raising teenagers in foster care is really tough. Adopting those teens out of foster care is one step away from insanity tough. Yet, somehow God opens up our hearts like the Red Sea and we all get swallowed up. It’s a real struggle for my now permanent child to see other fosters visit their birth parents. It triggers old, painful reminders of what he lost and will never get back. He pushes me away so hard I feel the breath leave me with the words he says. His words cut me deep.
I hope no one ever expects their foster child to speak gratitude in moments of pain because that is the LAST thing they feel. He should not feel grateful that he lost his family and his home. He should not feel thankful that he had to face the trauma of being pulled from his siblings, his neighborhood, his friends, and literally EVERYTHING he has ever known and placed with strangers. He should not be on his knees thanking God that he never even got to say good-bye. No, thankful is not the word. I don’t feel that in these moments either. I see my baby hurting in a way that I can’t even imagine and I’m not thankful that I can’t take away that pain. I’m not thankful that I can’t love it away. I’m not grateful that “it could have been worse”. I’m not thanking my lucky stars that he was placed with us since I love him so much because it means that he lost everything to be here. No, thankful is not the word.
Broken is the right word. We all feel broken. Broken is okay because broken can be repaired. Broken isn’t final. If I am thankful for anything it’s that God allows us to be broken and mended together. Every new bond is stronger than the one that was shattered before. Our love and our life is a mosaic of grace-filled hope. Our life may look crazy on the outside, but inside we are filled with the gooey goodness of grace and hope 💓