I learned on Tuesday that I will be keeping the peanut for at least another 4 months. As much as I would love to sing and scream out the details of the unfairness in our abysmal mess of a child welfare system, I will instead rejoice graciously that God has granted me more time to be her mommy. I am being honest and sincere when I say that this certainly came from left field and hit me like a sock full of batteries. I was sitting here for over a half hour typing and erasing, adding ideas and then replacing them.This was a huge week for us so I felt like I should be able to write something equally monumental and yet instead of my thoughts flowing out of me in beautiful form, they were stunted and uninspired. Eventually, I decided to admit defeat as my post was going nowhere fast.I stretched my arms, cracked my knuckles, closed my laptop and crawled around on the floor gathering the random strands of Mardi Gras beads that the peanut left a trail of on her way upstairs to bed.
As I crawled around on the floor, I remembered the sting I felt a week ago when I was putting her toys inside a giant rubbermaid tub to go to her parent's house with her.I had already dropped the peanut off at my friend's house and I still had an hour before I had to leave for court so I decided to pack up a few more things. I lifted each toy and smiled and laughed at the memories it brought and then gently positioned them all next to each other precisely and carefully as if treating them tenderly could somehow change the situation. I imagined how her parents would react to inviting this piece of my home into theirs' and wondered if this tub would ever be opened. I felt a familiar twinge of anger towards them but thankfully it was fleeting. I pulled the orange rubbermaid lid out of my pantry closet and sealed it on top of the tub when I looked down and realized that I was clutching her Mardi Gras beads in my tight fist. I held them to my heart, letting a few tears fall and then I looked at them and I couldn't help but laugh when I pictured them dangling from her neck and bouncing against her chubby tummy when she runs, or the wild screams she belted out when I had to untangle them from her curly blond hair or unwrap them from the steering wheel on her riding toy.
I have to be careful about the way I write this next paragraph. I have pecked at the keyboard and then erased it completely several times over trying to formulate my words in the exact way I want them to be interpreted. Maybe I'm working too hard but it is summer vacation after all and I have a child that goes to bed at 7:00 p.m. so where else does my loyalty lie at this hour? On court days, to say I am twisted in knots is an understatement. I tiptoe into the courtroom and try to swallow what feels like a beanie baby lodged in my throat. My hands sweat and my cheeks flush and without fail my licensing mentor nudges me in the arm and jokingly tells me to remind myself to breathe in and out. I just smile and rest my back against the cold metal of the folding chair feigning confidence and inner calm. Everyone feels the elephant in the room; its presence is suffocating. I can't say what happened in there but I can describe the feelings I had when the severity of the situation shot towards me like a fierce cannon. She's coming home with me again.
I pictured myself unpacking her boxes of clothes and placing them neatly back in her dresser. I pictured myself leaning down to scoop her up at daycare and feeling her stubby arms wrap around my neck and I imagined our silly dinners together where she practices balancing each green bean on her forehead. I felt an overwhelming sense of victory that I had more days with her and then I looked across the courtroom.Her parents. We had made arrangements in the court waiting room about the time they would come to pick her up, the items I was sending home with her, the plans we would make to meet up in the future so I could watch her grow. They spoke sincerely and enthusiastically. I had walked into court that day preparing to lose something that I loved and treasured so very much and in the midst of my selfish joy at the turn of events, I watched the parents of my child lose the hope they had of bringing their precious daughter home with them that day.
A good friend reminded me today that when it is my turn to go to Heaven, I will be accountable for my life. What will that day look like for me? I want to know that I was kind when it wasn't always warranted and understanding when it was hard. I want to know that I acted with grace when I was able and tried harder when I wasn't. I want to know that I could be a comfort to others in the midst of my joy and still be joyful in the midst of my tears. I want to be the woman God wants me to be. I continue to pray daily that God's grace covers us all during this transition in our lives. Please fit us into your prayers tonight. We so desperately need it.
