The second day of Lent

Thursday began a great day. I started with yoga, made it to work (pretty much) on time, and was feeling peaceful and contented with life as it was at that moment. I was being productive and excited about a trip Doug and I discussed last night.

And then Iowa KidsNet called.

I heard what the worker had to say about a placement she thought would suit us and although there was one more child in the sibling group than what we were "signed up" for, it was a good match and I was ready to jump at the opportunity to (foster) parent again.

I LOVE being a mom.

So I called Doug and gave him the details and then some time to think about it. And then we talked about it again. And then we thought about it a little more. And through this last stretch of "thinking time" I got to talk with my good friend, Stephanie.

Stephanie is the BOMB.

I met Steph through our first foster care placement and we just clicked. Lifelong friends. Done. She's helped me navigate some rough times. And she's fun to enjoy the lighter times with, too.

So we're on the phone, with which my left hand was holding, as I'm pilling through the mail with my right when I come across a hand written, very personal looking envelop addressed to me from one of my very favorite people ever. I opened the card to read, "I wanted to tell you personally that I am 'expecting.'"

When I decided that I would be committing the next 40 days to enjoying life's plentiful blessings and giving no worry or want to those hopes that seem elusive thus far, the subject of that note was EXACTLY the topic I had grand intentions to avoid.

And yet there I was, on the second day of Lent, with a plan to avoid foiled plans, foiled.

I felt punched in the stomach, but I wasn't off track. I cried. And I wanted to curl into a ball on the couch and grieve what we don't have. I couldn't. I made promises: To God, to myself, and to these three little guys that need a safe place to stay. The second day of Lent is too soon to give up.

Stephanie kept me afloat. She reminded me that what we don't have is not my fault. And that societal norms are why it feels like a failure. And that there is a great deal of irony in the timing of the KidsNet call and receiving the news from my friend. And that the ironic timing may not be irony at all.

See why I love this lady!

Then she hit me with this incredible poignancy: "Marsha, you've parented seven children. And you've loved each one of them unconditionally. And we became friends. How much of that would've happened if you had 'had' kids when and how you 'wanted' to?"

Mmmm. She's right. I couldn't imagine not having had each one of them in my life.

And so it is.