Tonight, I rock a baby who is not mine.<\/div>\n
\n<\/p>
For the fifth time this year, we have a foster-baby.<\/p>\n
\n<\/p>
I snuggle her close and gaze into her eyes as I feed her a bottle and sing Jesus over her. I kiss her forehead and pat her back just as if she were mine. I swaddle her tight and I tuck her in beside my pillow as if she were mine. But Jesus said, \u201cNot this one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n<\/p>
When we offer to foster a baby in the midst of our craziness, and when people learn that we are fostering another baby, they make the \u201cyou\u2019re crazy\u201d face. (come to think of it, people make that face at me a lot \ud83d\ude09 ) \u201cDon\u2019t you already have your hands full?\u201d<\/p>\n
\n<\/p>
Yes. My hands are full. My heart is full. My life is full. And that is why I do it. Because faith is a verb. Faith does<\/i>. Love does.<\/i><\/p>\n
\n<\/p>
And because someone, somewhere did it for me.<\/p>\n
\n<\/p>
My babies grew in someone else\u2019s womb and someone else did the hard labor of bringing them into this world. <\/span>Whether they remember the person or not and whether we know the person or not, my children did not survive the first years of their lives on their own. Even though for most of them the early years were not ideal, and even though I was the one chosen to teach them about consistent meals and bear hugs and pajamas, someone, somewhere carried. Someone, somewhere held. Someone, somewhere fed.<\/p>\n\n<\/p>
And with great hope I believe that one day in Heaven I will know who these people were and I will be able to embrace them. To these people, wherever they are, I am incredibly grateful. I feel so privileged to be able to do the same for a Momma who can\u2019t right now.<\/p>\n
We say \u201cYes.\u201d Our hands are full. And we believe we have been filled to spill out.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Today we are thankful to love in the gap.<\/p>\n
\n<\/p>
\n<\/p>
<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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