Expectant in Hope

I spent the day cleaning and re-arranging. I desperately wanted to buy pumpkins at the grocery store, and then I forgot. 

My keyboard doesn't want to work the way it usually does. I have to hit some keys multiple times to make them work. I'm blaming the little guy that lives with us. He really likes to bang on keyboards. 

I want to wear boots and sweaters and go to the pumpkin patch, but as I type that, I remember that I usually wear a tank top to the pumpkin patch and sweat through the whole experience. 

I want to sit and breathe and rest, but I haven't today, until now. 

And here I find myself, letting my brain fall out on a page. Anticipating what's coming. Unsure. Scared. And expectant in hope. 

Tomorrow our home will officially be open again as a foster home. 

That means that we'll probably have a baby in our home in the less than 24 hours. A baby that's not ours, but that we'll love as ours. A baby with baggage and a past and possibly a defining moment that I'll never be able to erase no matter how much I love him or her.

Tomorrow I'll hold a baby that isn't mine but that I'll wonder if it ever could be. Could she be ours? Could he be ours? I won't be able to help it. I'll think it. 

Tomorrow we'll welcome a baby into our home that I will fight for. I will fight for restoration. I will fight because that's what every baby deserves. 

Tomorrow we'll fall in love with a baby that we may never watch grow up......that we may never see once she or he leaves our home. But we'll love anyways. We'll love bravely....without holding anything back. No one deserves guarded love. We all need love that is brave enough to love all of us. Every bit of us. The good, the bad, the beautiful....the things we can't change. 

As I type these words, my soul converses with the Lord about what's to come. Protect that baby. Guard it's heart. Cover it in your love. And then bring it to us. And show us what to do.

Lead us. 

Guide us. 

Break our hearts. 

Change us. 

We yearn to be more like you. 

My heart aches over the possibility of love to come. My heart aches over the possibly of heartbreak. And knowing it all, I know that you know so much more than I do. I know you had this all planned out. I may not see it immediately, but you have been doing a good work.....a great work....behind the scenes. Cover us in your grace. Cover our home in your peace. Protect us from the schemes of the devil. We feel him lurking while we feel you fighting for us. 

We trust you. 

Lead us. 

And tell a story so great that only you could get the glory for it. 

We are nothing without you. We love you. 

Is there fear? Absolutely. 

Is there doubt. Of course. 

Do we feel qualified. No. A million times no. 

But we're doing it anyways. Because tomorrow our home will officially be open as a foster care home, and even though we have rather narrow age limits (younger than Wyatt), we will most likely be placed tomorrow because there are babies in my state and in your state and all over America who need a home to sleep in tonight. 

And if we don't do it, who will? 

The need is great. The reward is greater. Peace. Change. Complete trust in the Lord. Those are the rewards. 

The first time we had foster babies in our home, I got rocked in the most gut-wrenching way. My world was flipped around, and suddenly I was different. I was different because I loved and rocked two babies who weren't mine.

I will never forget the day they showed up on my doorstep, and I will never forget the day they left. And I will never be the same. Ever. 

Broken. Wrecked. Messed up. I was all those things. 

And after 6 months, I was changed. Different. New. 

And tomorrow begins something new.

Behold, I am doing a new thing;

now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

I will make a way in the wilderness

and rivers in the desert.  ~Isaiah 43:19 

So tonight, I rest, expectant in hope.