Guest speaker #2. Like I said. I read a lot of entries to help me come to peace with my decision to say goodbye and searching for a sense of community that I have only scratched the surface of. This website has become a book that I pick-up and open a few times a day - reading until my mind is full and I need time to think and then coming back for more.
I have been going to foster parent support group each month. These foster parents. They are wonderful people. Full of good. Full of strength and understanding nods. As unique as each of our situations are, there is always a spine of similarity running through our experiences.
My first meeting I was so overwhelmed. Here were people who had been doing this for ages. Who were so good at what they were doing. Who were embracing the hard and then giving praise to Heavenly Father for the strength to get through. And I guess that's the part where I aspired to be so much like, and also is appearing to be the hardest to do. I work my buns off. Practice, practice, practice, but I forget the power of prayer that could be mine if I would just take the time to tap into it. Maybe in this next month. That can be my personal goal. To be someone who is grateful and indebted for their relationship with their Heavenly Father. If it is the strength that I most admired in all those people that have become familiar faces, I am sure I can develop it, as well.
Where The Anchor Lands
You will hear a lot of talk about dropping anchors around here. It’s the call of this crew of mamas when the going gets tough… “Drop anchor and pray for daylight.” Pray you don’t go under when the world is falling apart around you, pray that your hope stands firm in the face of trial or simply pray you make it through the night when words fail you and the most you can offer up is tears. Honestly, most days that’s all you have because foster care is hard and it will break you in ways you never imagined. However, unlike those sailors on that ship with Paul, we know better than to put our hope in anchors. We know that when we take our “soundings”—court’s coming and it doesn’t look good, the kids are suffering some unknown and we don’t have the answers, everything is pointing to the bittersweet goodbye—that we don’t have to place our hope in metal and shifting sand. Instead we drop anchor (put our hope) into better things, things that don’t just steady us in the storm, but change the storm completely…
We drop anchor into community and not some shadow of community, but real people pouring their hearts into loving each other and others. Flesh and blood people who understand your suffering or at least know enough to just sit with you in it. Community that prays alongside you when that fearful night comes and you find yourself about to go under.
We drop anchor into His word. His word that heals and strengthens, makes darkness light and gives us feet fit for walking on waves or navigating deep oceans.
We drop anchor into the beautiful…into sweet smiles and infectious giggles; into simple pleasures like bath time, lullabies and cooing babies. Into moments where the hard to reach teen finally reaches for you, or the family that seemed lost suddenly finds itself whole. Into sun on your face or rain on the roof. Into sunrises and sunsets. Into hope-soaked, kingdom things.
Most importantly though, we drop anchor into Him, the game changer, the storm tamer, the heart refiner, the hope for those that find themselves on stormy seas in and out of foster care. Truth is if you’re a foster parent for any of length of time the day will come when you will have to drop anchors and those anchors will most likely be made up of tears, raised fists and breath that was knocked out of you. However, it’s really not important what your anchor is made of, but rather where the anchor lands.
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