Tuesday, July 31, 2012


For the first time in three years we are closed, inactive, off THE list. No adoption submissions, no emergency placements, no calls, no new kiddos. No Transitions. I know who will be here when The Fair comes, when the leaves fall, when it's time to carve pumpkins, to eat turkey, to celebrate Jesus's birthday.
The cast of characters will stay the same through these next seasons. This fact makes me feel rested, tired, peaceful, and anxious all at the same time. It is right. It is ordained. It is what I need. It is what they need. It is what we need.
But it felt foreign and wrong at first. When my caseworker called me and said we would have to go inactive before we had planned on going inactive, I struggled a little bit. During the last three years, these eight kids have been so hard and so, so good. And while I know it is just for a bit, mostly it feels kind of like a death.
Last week, we went to Galveston as a family. The first night we were there, we took the boys down to the beach to see it. We were running in the water and playing and laughing. Watching my boys with their Dadda, I was so thankful. That I was here and I had not missed this.
And right then and there in the Gulf I gave it a proper burial. I ate all the mistakes and grief and joy and washed it down with salt water and a little bit of hope. And finally, after three years of waiting and praying and searching and bracing, I stopped and breathed.
I let us just be a family. I allowed myself to stop being a crusader and just be a mom. I relished the fact that for the first time in three years everyone was where they should be and I knew what my family would look like at least for a little while...and it felt like coming home even though we weren't.