tangled up threads

Friday, March 18, 2016

We are in a slow countdown of final days with Little Man. Bureaucracy means sometimes it takes longer, and we can't ever count on anything, even a semi-official timeline. I'm struggling to know what direction to take the littles I spend my days with. How much effort do I put into training, into routines? How much do I love him? How tight do I hold him? How do I prepare him for the impending change?

I simultaneously want to hold him tighter, never letting go, and just rip the band-aid off already. Feelings are complicated by the fact that Little Man is just hard right now. He's not badly behaved really, but he is a super challenging two years old. He requires constant supervision. Literal eyes-on constant supervision. The rest of our family is suffering through this stage. With Wendell working out of town frequently, I just don't have the amount of attention to give to the other children that they need because of the need to be with the littlest at all times. So I want him to go. I want him to stay.

It's hard to take him to visits and see a functioning, happy family. It makes the delay of sending him home feel senseless. I get why we're going slow. I support a slow transition. I also hurt for his mama. She's done everything she needs to do and then some. She's motivated, and I think she's capable. And yet I'm worried for her. I'm worried for the kids. I think they might not be safe. I also think they will be safe. 

I think all of these things simultaneously. It's both and. All of the feelings about foster care and reunification and loving children like my own and my forever kids' feelings and much more wraps around me like a messy crochet of tangled up yarn. I can get bound up in the knots and tangles, or I can continue to sort through, finding the beautiful pattern in this tapestry we're weaving. I can remember that I have purpose here. Even today. Even in the final countdown. I can't just lose these days because I don't see the point in working hard anymore. God put me here, this day, in this family, with these children, for a reason. I am not Little Man's foster mom by accident. I have every day until he is moved from me to give my all.

Every moment holds purpose.
Every moment holds hope.
Every moment is love on display.

photo credit: Stephanie's love heart. via photopin (license)
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