Dear Mom, You are Not Alone.

Two weeks ago, in church (of all places), I had just had an awkward encounter about one of my kids and behavior issues. People have the best of intentions, but don't really know how to address this sort of thing with adoptive and foster parents in a way that is uplifting and encouraging. I walked into church, feeling a little like a failure and a lot like I was alone.

I just feel so lonely, God. No one else here understands what it's like. 

Obviously, I know that this is a lie. There are a lot of people who have my back, even if they don't totally understand caring for kids from hard places. Plus there are even a couple who do know what it's like and are in the trenches too.

But in a hard moment, in an awkward conversation, in a small (or even big) mistake as a mom (whether it is biological, adoptive, or foster), it sure can feel like we are alone.

I found myself comparing myself to another adoptive mom on Instagram the other day. Her experience in fostering teenagers has been totally different than ours, which is totally okay! But it made me feel even more alone. Okay so, even the people who are doing the same thing as me are not feeling the same things as me. 

Our experience in fostering older kids and teenagers has definitely been fun, don't get me wrong. But it also has been incredibly challenging. Setting up healthy boundaries, figuring out levels of trust, handling correction delicately, building rapport, encouraging school and sport participation (but not over encouraging anything because like OMG stay out of it), helping with homework, and walking through some really, really dark and heavy things - these things are not for the faint of heart.

So yeah, when I get on Instagram and I take someone's snapshot of their life and compare it to my snapshot that feels a lot less fun, it can feel pretty lonely.

I don't really do that thing at the beginning of a New Year, where you come up with a word and let that word drive everything you do. But since Christmas with all of the talk of Immanuel, God With Us, I've been praying a very simple prayer that has reminded me of a very simple truth that I need so very desperately these days:

God, be with me. 

Because the world, in many ways, bleeds darkness, evil, and sin. (I mean, not to be a Debbie downer, internet world, but it does.) I'm sure it seems totally crazy that we essentially invite brokenness into our home. But being a foster and adoptive parent gives me the opportunity to stare straight into brokenness and tell it where the Life is.

And the Life is not in some magical parenting method, in some book, or in a special routine.

No, at the Cross, Life itself died to set me free. And then three days later, that same Life rose again to make me new.

And now that Life lives in me.

Romans 8:11
The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, he will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you.

I believe that as Kingdom-of-Heaven-bringers, our job is to bring the Life that lives inside of us wherever we go. Every corner, every nook, every cranny, has some level of darkness. We certainly don't hold the power to rid the world of darkness. But we can bring light to the darkness in our corners. We can breathe life into lifeless things. We can be living, actual proof that the Gospel is real.

And we can live with the promise that we are not alone. The Creator of the Universe, the One who holds the world in our hands, the One who sacrificed His own Son, the Merciful Savior of the World, the Beginning and the End, the Almighty One - He lives IN ME. 

He is with me, always. 

Matthew 28:18-20
Jesus came and told his disciples, “I have been given all authority in heaven and on earth. Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations,[b] baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

Even as He ascended into heaven, He was holding true to His name: Immanuel, God With Us. He promised again at the end of Matthew what the Angel already told us about Him before He was born at the beginning of Matthew: 

He is Immanuel, God with Us. He never left. His presence is near, even when it doesn't feel like it. 

And though this is a truth that I've known for a very long time, it is a promise that I am clinging to: 

When I am tired and cranky and the last thing I want to do is have a hard conversation with my teenager, I will remember that I am not alone.

When I am overwhelmed by the hard things that my kids have had to experience in their short little lifetimes, I will remember that He is with me, bearing those hard things too. 

When I'd rather retreat instead of entering head-on into conflict resolution or extra quality time or extreme patience, I will remember His name: Immanuel, God with Me.