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Patience, I think, is something we all work on every day. Some situations we can be as patient as a saint...while other things seem to test us to the breaking point. I am now in month number 6 waiting for a foster placement. I thought for sure this past week it was going to happen. Two little ones who needed a home. Two little ones who needed some extra love.
Waiting to get the final word if they would come to me I had images in my head that were quite the jumble! First I was thinking practical. I'll have to call my boss and let him know the placement finally came and I wouldn't be into work the next day. I would have to hit up Walmart in the middle of the night for some PJ's and a change of clothes in their size. Work out day care and school over the next few days. Talk about taking family leave. Then there were the random thoughts of kissing sleeping in goodbye. Well, realistically, probably kissing sleeping in consecutive hours goodbye until they were settled in. Then the thoughts that made me smile. Those small moments when you see your kiddo sleeping restfully. That moment when they finally take your hand. Or when they turn to you for help on even a little thing like zipping up their coat. I know in fostering these are milestones because they show the tiniest bit of trust just MIGHT be forming. All of this swirling in my head in no particular order. And then the word finally comes. They aren't coming to me. They find a home that has more beds than I do and they don't have to split up the siblings. That is a good and wonderful reason for them to not come to me and I am happy for them. Even thought it feels to them that their world is falling apart around them and they are scared and sad and angry. I do know that at least they are together.
Then I get home and walk inside and it is perfectly quiet. I set my alarm without having to consider someone waking up before me. I turn on Netflix and curl up on the couch, not having to make sure the volume isn't too high. I ask God to take care of those two littles that almost came to me and then I ask Him...WHEN? When is it my turn to be a mother even if it is only until their mother can take care of them? When is it going to be my turn to be sleep deprived and proud that my kiddo put their shoes on the right feet for the first time alone...then realize I am wearing two different shoes? When is it my turn to see those milestones of a child becoming a child again? When do I get to finally, after working hard to gain their trust, maybe, just maybe, have them curl up in my arms and rock them to sleep?
Then I remember. It isn't going to happen on my time line. It is going to happen when it is the right time. In God's time. Four times I have received that call and four times, for various reason, it hasn't worked out. And so I wait for the fifth call and hope and pray that maybe this will be the time.
