Friday, January 22, 2010
cats, cliffs, and hope.
Jeremy and I walked into the pet store determined to adopt and bring home a kitten. We had owned cats in the past and remembering their loving and playful nature we decided it would fill our otherwise empty home with a little joy.
Two weeks earlier the three children that we had raised since birth through foster care and were hoping to adopt were returned to one of their parents. Although we had months to mentally prepare for their departure, every step through our now empty home was a reminder of the laughter and joy that echoed through its walls for the past three years. Beds were untouched and toys stood still, laundry was left undone. We tried to do everything to avoid being home; hiking in the Adirondacks, target shooting in Tennessee, visiting family in Miami, but eventually ran out of places to go. While Jeremy tried to focus on work, I spent most of my time in the family room, unable to walk throughout the house without being reminded of the children. Nights were worse. I would try to stay up as late as possible to avoid facing the sorrow that hit me while I lay in bed waiting for sleep to overtake my thoughts. We prayed alot together during this time, studied Scripture, read books, and had long discussions on how to begin our life again.
Deciding to adopt a kitten was a pleasant distraction from our quiet house and new empty routine. A cat was something I could nurture, and love, and be a mother to. We headed out to the pet shop that night, feeling hopeful of our future, and excitedly chattering about what kind of kitten we would bring home. Once there, I started to watch three kittens roll around playfully with one another while Jeremy began filling out the paperwork to adopt. We were both stupidly excited. I waited impatiently as the woman read through our papers for what seemed like forever. After conferring with a colleague, she walked over to us with an unpromising look, and told us we could not adopt a cat. The paperwork had asked if we would ever let the kitten outdoors and Jeremy had written "maybe on a leash". Despite my insistence that we would adhere to their "no outdoors" policy, it was too late. Hopes dashed, it was all I could do to drag Jeremy out of the store before I burst into tears. We had failed at adopting children, and now we couldn't even adopt a CAT!
In the car, I fiercely scolded my unsuspecting husband through a torrent of sobbing. The rejection was overwhelming. Not because of a cat, but because of what it signified - loss. Loss of children, loss of dreams, loss of hope. Jeremy was as angry as I was. We sat in the car and when I prompted him to drive, he said he was so angry he might drive off a cliff. I told him to go for it.
We sat for another 10 minutes or so in silence. Slowly we drove away, and began to piece back together our hopes and dreams. Over the next few days we reminded one another of Gods promises. Not that we will never have struggles in this life, but that He will give us the strength to walk through them. We were reminded of others throughout the world that were suffering immeasurably more than we were - families whose children had died or were dying, families dealing with chronic illness, people without so much as a home over their heads or food on their table. It opened our hearts to so many that suffer without the hope of eternity. It gave us a new perspective. A perspective that was not dependant on what we have in life, but how we respond to life.
Through nothing short of a miracle, the following week all three children returned to our care. Our home is once again filled with laughter, running, singing, bickering, diapers, sippy cups, and all the wonders three toddlers bring. I will never forget all the lessons we learned while they were gone. What was only a few weeks felt like an eternity. We don't know what the future will hold for our family - I don't think anyone ever really does. But I am thankful for the assurance that God will give us the strength to walk through it, and for every new day I have with these precious children.
And btw, a special thanks to the lady that rejected us for the cat. Three kids is enough for now :)
Labels:
faith,
foster care,
God,
hope,
motherhood,
parenthood,
suffering
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)