Anything

 

Three little kids came crashing into our life and I will never be the same. I have great facebook friends. I can post a need for someone and have it met in a week. It’s amazing. I love them.

It’s common for me to get a message like the one I got from my neighbor:

 “My friend is taking care of her three grandkids and they need clothes. Do you know anyone who has some?”  I post their sizes, pick them up, deliver them and go on.

Not this time. The little ones wanted to model their new clothes for me in their “favorite colors”. I listened to their  story from Grandma and I hurt for them. The little guy sat on my lap, put his head up against mine and rocked. He was shy at first and finally put on his little superman robe someone sent him. No words. No smile. Just one little intense stare from him.

The one we call “Squishy” grabbed my hand and said, “next time you come, can you bring us ice cream?”

Someone else sent some clothes and shoes and I had another reason to stop by. I asked Barney to stop at the store so we could show up with that ice cream.

My friend had delivered a toddler bed, more clothes, and boxes of toys. They wanted to model for us again. Grandma needed to get the house ready, she works nights, she appeared tired. I asked if we could take them to Sunday School. This became our Sunday ritual for a month. On Easter, Grandma went to church with us.  

People, we always run late. They came into our lives and we got up earlier and got them in class on time. The little guy snuggled with me during worship and worked his way back to class. We played with goats, played at my parents, made cookies, did a polar plunge. We fell in love. Our Sundays of naps, eating and laying around were now playing with these little guys.

I don’t usually ask little kids to come to my house. I have been cleaning up after kids for 14 years and adding more is not my forte. I don’t sign up for nursery because of the chaos, but I couldn’t wait to pick these guys up every week.

That first Sunday I was nervous how to ask if we could keep getting them. I thought about them all night. I was a little shocked that I enjoyed it so much and that I wanted to do it again. It was an overwhelming love for strangers, a love that brought me to my knees and to tears many times that week.

My girls got baby ducks for Easter. The first thing they said was I cannot wait to show the kids these. It was instant love for them too. We wrapped their new Bibles and Easter candy and took pictures together at church.

That Tuesday after Easter, because of the nature of the beast they, were placed in foster care. I left my house immediately to say goodbye. When I walked in they all yelled, “Its Sunday we are going to Sunday School”. Gut wrenching. I couldn’t speak through the tears to talk. I think they took 200 pictures of themselves on my phone that day while grandma packed their bags.

The two little girls got in the car and the little guy ran and put his arms around my legs. It was all I could do not to put him in my car and go. At that moment I don’t want to say ‘have fun’. I don’t want to say ‘see you soon’. I want to say ‘come home with me’.

The Sunday before I got the message to get clothes for these kids, I was reading Restless by Jennie Allen and getting my world rocked. We also had a missionary from Canada at our church talk about the struggle and trusting in God’s plan. I cried through his talk. There are days when I feel that I have no purpose, days I feel I have nothing to offer. I didn’t become a “missionary” like I had planned and the enemy knows how to use that. He reminds me often of the day we signed our own rights away. There are days I feel like everything I set out to do crumbles before me.

Barney asked me If I was prepared for the heartache. I was sure I could handle it. The heartache of watching that social worker’s car pull away with those three faces waving and smiling goodbye made me want to lock this heart up. The heartache I saw in telling my own kids why we can’t pick them up on Sundays anymore made me wonder why I put us in this situation. I open up the cabinet to get a cup and see the sippy cups and I cry. I try to tell people why they aren’t with us on Sunday and I cry. I wake up in the middle of the night and I think about them and I cry.  I write them on the prayer request card at church and I cry.

Yesterday someone asked me on facebook if I would ask for some clothes for some kids. Their mom had just gotten out of prison and they were staying with them. I met their sweet faces in the store and I realized my heart is still open, even if it’s still hurting.

My prayer is like Jennie’s other book I am reading, “Anything”.

Anything, Lord, I will do anything you ask.   And if Jesus asked me to open my heart up again tomorrow, I’d do it in a heartbeat.  I am not alive until I am poured out. I am not living unless I am sacrificing. I will love deeply despite the heartbreak. I will take risks if it matters for eternity.

In the midst of that heartache, I felt joy. In the midst of the unknown, I know who is faithful. I found pure and faultless religion. I found something beautiful in an unlikely place.

Pure and faultless religion is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress. – James 1:27

I know this story is not finished. I trust the Author, even when it's hard.