Shattered Pieces

Shattered picture frames, shattered hope, shattered peace, shattered dreams & my shattered heart. My mantra these days is that loving deeply means grieving deeply and it keeps me from regretting the choice to love and give myself fully to my call and my dreams.

In a nutshell the last month-ish has been full of trauma, police reports and navigating difficult things for my home. The cliff note version is it started with breaking up a fight of about 15 people who tried to jump one of the girls outside my door. Then escalating to multiple weekends of running away, people trying to break down my door, sneaking boys in (oh the stories I could tell), violating safety house rules on multiple levels and then what I didn’t think would ever happen…the process of removal.

One thing about me is that I’m rarely afraid in any surrounding. For the first time I’m dealing with fear of my surroundings and even being in my home. As each kick on the door sounded, with the glass still shattered and strewn about on the floor (from the destruction exit) my panic became deeper. I was locked in and no more safer than from the outside. The girl I love is no longer there as the lies/destructions woo became too much for her not to succumb to their lure.

Two weeks later and I still cry randomly, bring them up in conversation like they’re still here and work to rebuild what’s left behind. I honestly didn’t think my life would ever be without K, given the option, and I’m still in shock that all that remains are pictures of our time together and the memories held in my shattered heart.

I told my therapist I hate being sad and I’m ready for next…but I’m not. I’m not ok…and I hate that. I still go to work every day, I still make food, go grocery shopping, read and I still daily check my phone to see if they’ve called. I’ve closed my home till after the holidays, as I know the wisest thing to do is to make sure I’m good again before inviting children in. It’s hard to be “selfish” and not help in fostering when I know the need is great. The opportunity to reevaluate and pivot is here and so I get to use this season to do just that. It’s not how I planned to spend the holidays, however it is what’s happening.

I said recently that something came alive in me as a foster parent that now feels aimless. Someone reminded me that it’s still alive and just has the opportunity to find a new muscle and outlet. This experience is increasing my love muscle and expanding my capacity. I’m grateful for my church and my community that literally held me when I collapsed in grief as I tried to walk into church, sat with me while I waited multiple times for the police, sent me food and reminded me that this isn’t the end and it’s ok to stand up for myself too.

So here I sit in my home…alone. The house is quiet and the streets continue their noises and I often wonder if it’s the girls. My home feels empty, but this weekend I’m starting the process to reclaim the peace and safety within it. Twice in the last month someone has tried to knock down my door to bring harm and be lying if I said I wasn’t still jumpy…but I’ll keep moving. My physical barricades are down, the space being rearranged, the glass cleaned up (as I keep finding it) and my home getting “righted” (at least in the physical portion). This weekend I reset and prepare for how I will do battle back to “even” as I dig through the grief, the fear, the panic and the uncertainty. To be clear I do not regret my decision to be a single foster mom, to take K in (and the others that came along) and love her deeply and even with this “ending” I wouldn’t trade a thing. Cause I got to see how God can love me, no matter how many times I eff up and still show grace in boundaries…cause that’s what I got to do for 11 months. So here’s to the now, the new and the next all a product of what has been. Thanks for cheering me on friends and for diving in the joyful deepend!

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#weareTHEbrand #thisistheNOW

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