Welcome to my blog. If you are here, you probably know me and a little about my story so I won’t bore you with the details of my twisty turny life. What you may not know is that as of July 2, 2015, I was no longer rising corporate star in the defense and aerospace industry. I quit my job that quite frankly I loved and turned my sights on my long desired dream to be a foster mom. Here’s how this journey started:
At 35 I was finally diagnosed with stage 4 endometriosis, which sounds really scary but basically means that I had internal plumbing that looked like a mop being wrung out over the bucket (and it felt like that too). After three surgeries in 11 months, I was given a “clean” bill of health and encouraged to hurry into the IVF program immediately. Tim and I had been through 11 months of testing to determine what all was wrong with this outwardly normal couple that could not conceive. Based on all this super fun and enjoyable testing (sarcastic font) we were given a less than 35% chance of success through IVF. Now, I had just finished my accounting degree and being a non risk taker I just couldn’t justify spending 10 – 20 K on a 35% chance when I could spend 10K for an adoption and get 100% of a kid. So we dropped out of the IVF program without even trying and said we would adopt.
When we shared our good news with our families the response was horrible. Tim’s mom encouraged us not to adopt because you never know what kind of child you will get, “they could be an axe murder and kill you in your sleep.” My family inadvertently kicked me in the gut when we shared the news with them. Dad’s response, “Great, your sister is pregnant” with her first child after being married a year. And thus began Lisa’s Great Depression. Who knew a grown woman could work and carry on normal conversations day in and day out while tears streamed uncontrolled down her face. Seriously. Who knew? My doctor put my on little happy pills which stopped the tears but made me a flat person, no joy, no sadness just existence. Finally, I cried out to God and it was like the world was suddenly lit with Technicolor for the very first time. I was saved. No I still couldn’t conceive a child but I could celebrate my nephew’s birth and congratulate my sister and her husband on the birth of their first child.
In my new found faith, I again cried out to God about the unfairness of not ever becoming a mother and was told “be a foster parent” as I was driving down Northside Drive, right by the U-Store It place. So, Tim and I enrolled in state required foster parenting classes and pursued hard the foster to adopt route. But, at the end of the classes, with just one small hurdle to jump (getting our dogs shot records) our case worker disappeared. Final home visit never got scheduled and we didn’t call and demand they finish the approval process so essentially, we dropped out.
Fast forward 12 years, I am working to schedule the next round of installs on our AC-130’s and in walks my boss. He closes the door to my office (never a good sign in corporate world) and we have a discussion. It seems that I sent an email that angered a coworker and he was “calling me on the carpet” for this dastardly deed. During the discussion I realized I didn’t care. My email was just factual and contained no inflammatory language nor called anyone names but the guy that got it turned it into something it was not and made yet another mountain. So I was in hot water and normally I would have defended my actions. I would have printed the email and gone over it word by word with my boss to prove that 1) I was right, 2) there is nothing wrong with stating facts, 3) coworker was a baby who probably wore diapers to work. But I didn’t. I just offered to apologize to the offended party. After my boss left my office, I called Tim, told him about what had happened and my lack of concern about it and asked if he would be okay if I quit my job. He agreed. I wrote the resignation letter and after sleeping on it, turned it in the next day.
Since I wasn’t angry and wasn’t really quitting because I wanted to make a statement or had the next great job lined up, I gave them a 6 weeks notice. I figured that would give me time to find another job and would wrap up the critical stage of my program before I left. I started putting out feelers for job opportunities.
During this time, I was doing a Bible study about trusting God. One night after turning in my notice I was working on the study and was led to read Isaiah 54. My world was rocked to the core.
There was God.
54 “Sing, barren woman,
you who never bore a child;
burst into song, shout for joy,
you who were never in labor;
because more are the children of the desolate woman
than of her who has a husband,”
says the Lord.
“Enlarge the place of your tent,
stretch your tent curtains wide,
do not hold back;
lengthen your cords,
strengthen your stakes.
Yep. That’s God alright. Message received loud and clear. I was to be a foster mom. And so it began again. Classes, paperwork, home visits, bunk beds, toy chests…waiting. After a few days of waiting, I emailed the our caseworker. I didn’t want to get dropped in the cracks. I wanted to know where we were and what we needed to do to be approved and start taking in kids. A few emails later I got a phone call asking about our willingness to take a brother and sister ages 12 and 8. The little boy had gotten into some trouble as school and their current foster family wasn’t comfortable keeping them with their biological children. Yep, we will take them. And then more waiting. Finally, the foster mom contacted me, we put together a plan to meet the kids at their home to see if we liked the kids and kids liked us.
That was Friday. Now today, Sunday morning, I’m running around (through cyber land) setting up parental controls on all our devices and televisions. They are coming!!! Today after church, we are making the move. M&V will be here at our house. Occupying the freshly painted Ikea bunk beds and the office turned bedroom. Sharing our home, meeting Erma, Socks, Moose and Turtle. I am so excited!
And so scared out of my skin! What was I thinking – two middle aged, set in their ways, childless adults sharing a small house with children of trauma. How is that going to work? I don’t even know what time they should go to bed or where to go to buy school uniforms. I must be crazy. But then I remember Isaiah 54 and start humming “There is power in the name of Jesus.” This is not my plan. This is not my project. This is God’s and I will rest in Him.
So we begin…