Love & prayer. These are two words ever so close to my heart. There are two "men" who are always on my heart. I pray for them constantly throughout my day because it's all I've got. I'm praying for one I love because I know no other way to love him. I pray every day… Continue reading Draw the Circle
My foster son is so very smart. He's also a six-year old boy. Which means he says and does gross things and he almost never stops moving. Luckily, I have a high tolerance for sometimes gross boy behavior (see working with a couple hundred Marines every day for 8 years). He also has a lot… Continue reading Life with a Six Year Old Boy
I have a lot on my mind. I'm not sure what to share so here are a few random thoughts about things: My foster son is African American. If you doubt racism exists, I can confirm for you that it does. Go ahead and stay in your safe little corner if you disagree. But, I'll… Continue reading Random
Last week at this time, I was about five hours from sleep at 9:00 PM. I was hours into one of my two foster children, raging. It lasted from about 4:00 PM until sleep finally came to both kids around midnight. It was one of the loneliest, most exhausting, and sad nights I can ever… Continue reading What a Difference a Week Makes
When I started thinking about this post earlier this evening, I had the "good days/bad days" thought in my head. But really, it's better to describe them as moments. This foster care journey so far has had some of the darkest moments and I know I have only seen a tiny tip of the iceberg.… Continue reading Good Days. Bad Days.
The last twenty days have been dark. I've never been stretched so thin, worn out so completely, and felt so unsure how to get through to the only people who can help me. As a result, I've been angry. I've said things I don't mean about the process, organizations, and people who, at the end… Continue reading Foster Care: The Ugly & The Beautiful
For the longest time, I tried to make excuses. I figured that there had to be more. Why? Because nothing made sense. I lived everyday with this confusion hanging over my head and the belief that somehow, somewhere this would all make sense. But I'm tired of making excuses and I'm tired of trying to… Continue reading All In
Where are you, Baby? Still somewhere choosing your words carefully, I presume? There's a hole here in this big house. It feels even bigger than normal. There are things I'd like to do with you. I'd like to cook an extravagant dinner with you, music playing, and candles burning. I'd like to argue debate pointless &… Continue reading Things I Would Like To Do . . .