I say this, because I am (once again) NOT pregnant. I thought (as I often do) I might have been, but no. And this time, I barely felt the sting. I sincerely believe God is bringing a gentle peace and the very real acceptance of a possible childless existence.
Some people at our church have started the adoption process for a Chinese baby. They are looking at actually having the child in hand in 2010. Brett and I asked them about it, and our suspicions were confirmed. It’s long process with a price tag in the neighborhood of $12,000, with the inflation possibility of $20,000.
Or, from our human standpoint, absolutely unthinkable.
So, no babies. It’s okay. Usually, I don’t think they are all that cute, anyway. And all that pooping.
There is something I have been thinking about.
There are new billboards all over Rockford advertising for new foster parents. Apparently, they are in short supply.
My aunt and uncle were foster parents for a number of years. My cousin Steve was a sweetheart of a teenager with a very sad “real” home life. My aunt and uncle saved him in a very real sense. My other cousin, Anthony, was a foster child that my aunt and uncle adopted. He is a real part of our family now.
Several of my “real” cousins SHOULD have been in foster care, since their father beat them mercilessly. Hindsight is 20/20, though. I was only eight when my cousin revealed his bruises. If only I’d known what to do. I will always feel like I failed him.
Back to the foster kids, I know what you’re thinking. Because I’m thinking it, too. What do I know about raising children? And you’re right. I don’t know anything. Would I screw up a kid even worse than they already were? Or could Brett and I really make a difference?
We haven’t really talked about it. I think we are both scared to talk about it. The truth is that I want the experience. And I don’t mean changing diapers. I mean, being a parent. Or maybe just being someone who can help a child.
We have a house. We have extra rooms. But, we don’t know. Like I said, it’s a scary topic. Part of me thinks I’m ready, and part of me is screaming that it’s the craziest thing I have ever considered. What if we get some psycho kid who burns down our house and tortures our rabbits? What if we get a sweet little girl who just needs a safe place to sleep? All the questions.
I’m seriously thinking about calling my aunt and uncle and asking them about it. Maybe seeing if Brett and I should go to an informational meeting.
It’s strange. I’m content, but I’m also conflicted. Prayer will help, I know, but sometimes I’d just like a glowing neon sign.
Or maybe those billboards are God’s way of getting my attention.