No, really.  Two months into the new year – by the way – tangent warning, I really hate resolutions – read last new year’s entry rant why I have never made a resolution because if I want to make changes, I just do it and do not require a calendar date to keep a countdown, keep me motivated or keep me accountable, etc.  What I did do was make a commitment to myself to become active again in addition to my existing regimen of weights and stationary biking.  I swam competitively through high school and college, but recently determined I’d do something different and start running. Because I could.  For years, I’ve been scared to try because of that whole stint in a wheelchair for five years, but got over myself and tried to run and guess what?!  I did.  My husband has always been my biggest and best cheerleader and talked me into being fitted for proper running shoes based on the correct support for our surrounding terrain.  I did get fitted, then researched price, ordered and as an added benefit, those running shoes are even the colors of my Seahawks!  Yay for me and GO HAWKS!!  But the colors were never even a real consideration.  So those new running shoes arrived and I initially wore them at the gym on the treadmill, assessed and was confident that I could in fact run.  I mapped out my running route in the neighborhood to start the following day and then God ripped the carpet from under me and said, “Jenn, I have other plans for you” when we received an unexpected call later that evening.

You might recall a previous post about a year ago that I finally shared with my husband the snapshots that I’d seen for the prior twelve plus months.  Remember?  After I shared that little tid-bit of info, B essentially sat me at the table with a bright light shining on me to question me and determine how serious I was,then after the FBI- style interrogation, he determined I was on the up and up because that’s how completely unexpected it was for B to hear me mention, “Well maybe we’re still here because we’re supposed to adopt a child.”  Eleven years ago, after the failed attempt to adopt a baby from China, when a year into the process we were declined to adopt because of my MS, the subject of children in our own home had become the topic of which we no longer spoke.  So imagine how unexpected the suggestion nearly a decade later…

As Christians we seek God’s will and pray for God’s prompting for major decisions, but with my ‘epiphany’ we were even more resolved to make sure that this vision was really from the Almighty.  The weeks following the ‘interrogation’ were filled with prayer and research and then in July 2015, we began the 10-week journey to become licensed for foster to adopt through the state.  In addition to a plethora of info, we obtained CPR/First Aid certifications,  reinstalled the pool-fencing, had two home-studies, installed the necessary magnet locks and fire-extinguishers, obtained a crib and the path was smooth-sailing, confirming yet another answer that what we were doing was indeed, God-led.

However, what had become disappointing after completing the class and list of tasks was the continued delay of getting licensed since our social worker had estimated that would happen before the new year, but we did not hear a thing for weeks later.  One of our class members had set up a closed social networking group that was created for our training class only.  Many of our class-members posted pictures of their newly acquired foster munchkins.  I may be kind of sort of admitting that the green monster had more than likely, undeniably and most definitely bit me.  Hard.  I’m blessed to have a spiritually strong husband with excellent discernment.  Most of the time I operate on logic, but there was nothing about this situation that ever spoke logic, so that overwhelming left-brain-ness went right impulsively emotional on me.  B helped me realize that the green monster’s name was “Obama” when I had this sense of missing out on my fair share, but once again my wise husband pointed out that this entire process was about stretching our faith in God’s timing by not taking control where those control-freak tendencies might have in the past.

Back to that unexpected call…  Our licensing social worker finally called in February that the center had received a baby.  A baby!?!  A baby.  A baby was never on my radar because those visions were always of a toddler.  But what then came to me was that our licensing SW said in class was that “adoption may not happen with your first placement…,” but I also thought this could be good experience for both of us.  B had those same thoughts, called the case worker, we asked many questions, after which we prayed and determined we’d pick-up that baby the following morning.   Talk about a world-rocking situation…   Most people have nine months to prepare for a newborn.  You know that whole thing of what to expect when you’re pregnant?  We had 12 hours.  But, here we are weeks later, very much operating as ships-passing-in-the night-zombie-mode, if that is a real condition.  We are sleep-deprived starved and ‘conversations’ have become limited to Neanderthal-like grunts and groans of exhaustion.  Lord, I apologize to any Neanderthals out there who read blogs, let alone have the wherewithal to take offense at my very tired sense of humor.

Next you might read about the monopoly of over-priced “Baby” targeted gear.

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