My reward.

I pulled into my parking spot at school this morning after dropping the peanuts off at daycare. My windows were down, the spots next to me were empty and the orange sun had just begun peeking over the mass of familiar houses in the subdivision, framing their shadowy peaks. I could hear my rubber tires press against the gritty cement and tiny bits of gravel pop underneath the weight of my car. I coasted into the spot and turned off the key. I took in a deep breath and smiled, which seemed to be the only thing I felt the urge to do at that moment.

When I signed up to be a foster parent, I had to swallow the fact that I had most likely signed away my future as a girlfriend, as a wife. After several relationships stalled because of my lack of free time, or their fear that I was trying to reel them into being a father, I had accepted the fact that a husband wasn’t in the cards for me and that God had called me to do something much different. I trusted that His reward for me would be bountiful. I celebrated in my friend’s relationships and engagements and pregnancies and prayed often that the choices I was making were correct. I often choked down that feeling of missing out on something, reminding myself that God’s love would never leave me wanting more.

It has been a few months since I’ve found the time to post, and my how blessed I’ve been by His grace. In November, my best friend came to visit from New Orleans, pulling me out of my fine-tuned single mother survival routine. In just one day, my life changed so beautifully. In a weird twist of fate, I ended up in the same place as my boyfriend, the golfer. The details are not as important as the outcome but they involved some Bud Light, a seedy bar and a cocktail jukebox mixture of Jason Aldean and Lil Wayne.

In just a few short months, I’ve watched my life transform in ways I’m so undeserving of. While it is far too soon to tell, I am headed towards the path of adoption with my sweet little peanut. While I type this, I can’t help but choke back tears as I remember just a few months ago typing in this same context, only the fear of losing her shook me to my very core and at times it felt hard to breathe. Now, as I type this I see a picture of my future as her mommy, I picture her toothy smile in her Kindergarten school pictures and her belly laugh as she rides a pony for the first time.    

At times, being a foster parent shows you the bad in people, it’s all you hear about and all of that bad seeps inside you completely undetected, tempting you to believe that it is all life has to offer. I’m trying to figure out how to word this next part so that it sounds as genuine and sincere as it truly feels in my heart and not just orchestrated in order to fill up page space. I’ve met a man that shows me the good in people. I wish I could find words to describe how it feels to watch my child curl up on the couch next to him and rest her head on his hip while she watches t.v., especially considering how deeply he despises Spongebob Squarepant’s grating squeals. I watch her seek him in times of comfort and plead at his feet for more chocolate chip mini muffins. Knowing that it’s not expected of him, I’ve watched him read her a bedtime story and fix her dinner plate. I’ve felt him squeeze my hand when life gets overwhelming or she pushes me to my limits and I’ve been a grateful witness to his kindness and patience when my house is full of prodding case managers, health inspectors and child therapists. He’s a horrible dancer, we aggravate each other sometimes and he will never support me in my efforts to incorporate more vegetables into our daily meals but he has shown me, in a blinding way, God’s love. He is my reward.

Ephesians 4:2 with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love,