Perspective

June 2017, we took our kids to Illinois to visit family. During the trip, we took the 2.5 hour train ride to Chicago for the day. Tristen (9) had read some books about Chicago, and he wanted to see it in real life (I asked him to then read books about islands to see if that could manifest into a cool learning experience. No such luck.).

In addition to our kids ages 2-12, we also had our foster baby (1.5) “C” with us. He had been with us for nearly a year at that point. Taking a foster child out of state is nearly an act of congress, and we were so grateful he was able to come with us.

At this time, they were still looking for family and options for his future placement, hoping for reunification. His social worker told me day one (and repeated herself often) “You aren’t keeping this one.”

Ma’am, WTH?! He isn’t a puppy. Who talks like this?

I loved that baby with my whole heart. We all did. While these babes were with us, no matter the length of time, they folded in as part of the crew. When Tristen was 4 he started talking to me about his brother who “was missing.” He said he knew he was supposed to have a brother, and he would talk to me about it (even telling me what names to consider). It was so confusing. We were not having more children. We didn’t know anything about foster care. He told me “brothers wear matching pajamas.” Fast forward, this missing brother ended up being Addix. Today, as I looked back at these photos I saw this:

The kids always found it special wearing matching clothes with their foster siblings. It was their idea and way to connect.

I shockingly love Chicago and have great memories there, but nothing compares to seeing the city through my kids’ eyes. One of my favorite things we did was going to the top of the Willis Tower. There was a glass floor you could walk out onto (or do handstands on if you are Tristen). It was incredible to see the city from that high up. I’ll never forget his face as he looked up at the building before we went inside.

Tristen looking up at the incredible buildings in Chicago.

Fast Forward to October, 2017. The plan quickly changed, and we were being asked to adopt “C.” I never felt like he was mine to keep, but who lets go of a baby you have had since he was 5 months old? It wasn’t my plan. It didn’t feel like God’s plan. But maybe it was the right thing to do?

Kyla (12) was adamant this was not what we were supposed to do. She was uncharacteristically vocal and consistent in sharing her concerns. “Addix is our baby. He needs us. This isn’t fair to him. It’s too much.” I know many people prefer kids to be seen and not heard, but that’s not how I roll. She was the only one in our house against the adoption. In that moment, I felt a little resentful, but with time and perspective I continue to be in awe of her courage. God spoke through her, and she didn’t silence the voice, even when she was clearly not saying anything I wanted to hear. I am so grateful.

We were gifted a trip to Chicago to an adoption and foster care conference, flights included. We went with the goal of making a decision about the adoption by the end of the weekend. I felt emotional on the plane. It was like time was already ticking down, and I didn’t think I was going to like what happened next.

As we were approaching the city, I could begin to see the skyline. The humongous buildings I saw just a few months before were the size of tiny ants. God stopped me in that moment and said to me, “You see these buildings. Dots. Insignificant from where you are looking right now.” He then flashed an image of this picture I took above of my son looking up in awe at the buildings a few months before. “I know right now this decision weighs so heavy on your heart. It is like you are standing at street level, under these massive buildings, and you feel like they could crush you at any moment. Look at what I am showing you now from the sky. Those same buildings. You have to make effort just to notice them. A totally different experience.”

“PERSPECTIVE”

God went on to explain that I needed to go into this weekend with perspective. I needed to consider the perspective of each of my children and their needs. And he promised me though this was really going to hurt, with some time and distance (the way I was experiencing Chicago in that moment with time and distance), it wouldn’t hurt like this forever.

Chicago skyline near the wing of the plane.

Wrapping this story up, we made the decision the last day that we were not the forever family for “C.” I cried the whole way back to the airport. And then God, in all his goodness, literally showed us 5 different rainbows on the 20 or so minute drive. It felt like confirmation.

I didn’t plan on going into all of those details, but apparently that is what needed to be said. Part of the reason I bring this up now is because you would have thought with that story and the visuals, I would have mastered the lesson of perspective. And a beautiful and annoying thing about my brain is that I almost always consider every situation from multiple perspectives.

I was kindly told during a really difficult conversation recently that I needed to have perspective, and parts of me did and still do. Another part of me has felt like I am standing under the rubble of one of those big skyscrapers that collapsed on me. I am trapped and alone in it. Nothing really makes sense.

Every time I feel stuck in my mess, I feel God telling me to get up. Perspective. “You know my plans have always been good for you, better than you can imagine. I’ve got you. Trust. Don’t stay here. You know this will work out.”

Then when I ignore that, he puts even more people in my path to talk to me about perspective.

Time and distance are a gift. I won’t go as far as saying my problems are insignificant, like those buildings from the airplanes, but a few months down the road, and I can breathe again. Thank you God for your patience with me.