"I pray the power of the Holy Ghost will be with each of us—that we may think what we need to think, feel what we need to feel, and learn what we need to learn so we can do what we know we should do and ultimately become what the Lord yearns for us to become." - David A. Bednar
“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”
"Grief seems to create losses within us that reach beyond our awareness;
We feel as if we're missing something that was invisible and unknown to us while we had it, but is now painfully gone."
- Brene' Brown (From the book Rising Strong p.146)
I think that's exactly what my husband is going through, a period of grief--a type of mourning. Our old life that has passed away--how our family used to be, everything that was comfortable and familiar--now feels strange and foreign when he arrives home from work: different faces, different voices, different smells, different behaviors, different conflicts.
For the first few days after our foster placement, I felt the same kind of grief, the same sense of loss for our old lifestyle... and it still surfaces every now and then but I think I've had more time to adjust than my husband. For two weeks before these children were officially placed with us, they were coming to our house for around five hours every day and went back home shortly after Joseph returned from work... so he didn't get as much of a primer. And still, after the placement, he's at work most of the time while I'm here with them. My ratio of opportunities to adjust simply outnumber his.
Big changes have never been easy for Joseph--the loss of what once was.
I remember two big changes where he nearly called everything off because he was so terrified of the pending upheaval of his familiar routine: our wedding day and our move to Provo. In his own words he says, "I was so terrified, I wanted to tuck tail and run!" And running away, is exactly what he's felt like doing with our new life as foster parents. Admittedly, several days ago, I was right there with him. Sometimes we both ask, "What the 'H' have we gotten ourselves into?!"
There are two things that help us hold our ground though:
One--the miraculous events, timing, and connections that led us to where we are. We know we've been called of God on this mission...
And two--thinking of our foster children's lives and the intense need they have for a stable family, free from living on the streets, free from the scene of drugs, free from abuse.
Where else would they go without having to leave their school, their friends, and the people they've come to know through this ward?
I recognize that this transition is going to take time for both of us and it's likely going to take more time for Joseph, because he's not home as much. The biggest thing I worry about is him being too hard on himself. The other night he said discouragingly, "Alicia, I'm the one who initially introduced the idea of being foster parents but now I don't feel like I can't do this. I just can't do this. I don't feel close to these children at all." I reassured him that I often feel the same but I know we're going to make it!
I've discovered that our older foster child needs about an hour every evening to just talk with me. If I don't allow him that conversation time, he begins to act out in poor behavior and wake all the other kids. I'm grateful though because our conversations have helped forge some very needful bonds, even if they're not as strong as I'd like them to be.
For the past nine nights, during the new bed-time routine, Joseph has been so terribly uncomfortable that the only way for him to cope has been to keep his distance: emotionally and physically. He hunkers downstairs writing in his journal or chats with Chandler for two hours while I put the other five to bed. I recognize how prone he is to depression so I haven't said anything. The miracle is that the Lord has blessed me with an added measure of peace and strength to help me shoulder this compassionately while Joseph works through his grief of losing our old life.
"I once heard a friend say that grief is like surfing. Sometimes you feel steady and you're able to ride the waves, and other times the surf comes crashing down on you, pushing you so far underwater that you're sure you'll drown."
- Brene' Brown (From the book Rising Strong p.147)
The crashing waves remind me of the familiar story of Peter when Christ beckoned for him to step out onto the water. I know it seems impossible. I know it is frightening and overwhelming at times but I know Who is calling us and I trust Him. I trust Him with all my heart.
We won't drown. He's got this!
