FosterParentImageI’m not going to lie. Foster parenting was on my mental list of things I never saw myself doing. Ever. Ever. Never.

In my mind, foster parents were a special selfless breed of altruists with acrobatic flexibility and other-worldly acceptance of the unknown, characteristics I cannot claim. Control has been my muse.  I haven’t been known for my cool demeanor.  I have never been limber or open enough to hold just anyone, or anything, but in recent months I’ve stopped fixating so much on the limiting expectations of what I thought I could do.

And I’m beginning to think I don’t really know what those are, because despite that fear of the unknown or my desire for control and planning, I feel the rush of potential, inspiration,  perhaps a beckoning need to step out beyond my current limitations and supposed ability. Surprise! It seems crazy, but I can’t unfeel  what’s swelling up inside me. I have to, have to answer it.

I know most people that become foster parents talk about being won over by seeing the needs of the children without a safe and stable home. I get that. The pre-service licencing classes I took reinforced it.  Honest answers, expectations and stories presented in the classes did not sugar coat the reality of birth parents, children, social service employees or foster families. Raw vulnerability invites rubbernecking. I could not look away; I knew I could not turn my hands or heart away either. I knew I had to help. There isn’t a shortage of avenues to do that. I could be shelling out to attend the crab feed fundraiser dinner in our county (probably delicious with a feel good pat on the back for paying a little bit more than normal for a night out), I could clear out some of the clothes my kids have outgrown (also beneficial to me and not a sacrifice), I could take dinner to a foster family going through a busy time (not a big inconvenience) or offer respite care to babysit for a foster family (a bit more effort, but also an expression of friendship to foster families I know). These are all fine possibilities, but somehow none of these satisfies that surging feeling of “take the leap!” I can’t deny every time I think about this.

I know I should look at the very real and acute needs in my area and want to be a “good Christian”/a person who is “the change [they] want to see in the world” and do all I can, but I’m not going to lie, that’s not why I’m becoming a foster parent.  In truth attending charity-supporting crab dinners, baking a casserole, boxing up some clothes and babysitting for the weekend are all excellent ways to act as a “good Christian” or Ghandi-type; and I’d do them. They sound more appealing than all the driving to visitations and court-hearings, the red tape and the paperwork that the system requires and is mired with. Still, the need is greater than the hassle and I should rise up, right? I hesitate every time I think about the requirements. Hum a line of “Because I Have Been Given Much” and it should be simple, but it wasn’t.

As a surprise to me my choice isn’t based solely on my need to answer the need for good in the world.

As selfish as it may sound,  this family choice is hinging on my own needs.

This heart-thunking, blood-rushing through my heart to my hands to my head feeling like there isn’t enough space in my body for the kinetic potential energy and need pulsing through it that I feel like I’m going to erupt and explode with giddy excitement and tears of anxiety of the unknown, unrealized, and strange hunger for those things all at the same time. Words on the tip of my tongue. Awkward posturing when you don’t know if they want to hug or shake hands. Anticipation of meeting someone you’ve wanted to for so long that you worry you won’t be able to express what they mean to you. Stomach butterflies and slight uneasiness of twisting through teeny, windy mountain roads, a mix of exhilarating wonder and discomfort at the difficult ride.  Something good and hard and heavy  and beautiful is coming at me and I’m struggling to keep my composure (and marbles). Good gravy, I’m a hot mess.

We’ll be fully licensed in about month.

I’ve rarely felt more sure about anything.

Surprise.

Dear God (and everyone out there), help me do this thing.

Have you ever felt the need to do something that surprised you?


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