To my fellow foster families…

I am the emotional one. The one with my heart on my sleeve and a lump in my throat.

I see you wrestling with the innocence you just lost. Wrestling with the knowledge that moms and dads who love children might not have the tools, the opportunity to give up everything you would give to parent a child.

I hear your hopeful words. I see the longing in your hearts. Some wrestling with infertility and trying to shake the deep unfairness of the idea that some can birth babies with no regard for stewarding their life. It is unfair! Grieve that truth. Do it for you and for the future babies in your arms.

I watch you silently resolve to bring the best of what you can. The popular sitcom This is Us had a message in the first few opening shows…  there is no lemon too sour that you cannot make some type of lemonade.  I see this when I stand before you at class. I feel this as I stand before you leading class. My lemon is why I’m in the room too. And you, you are the sweetest lemonade born from the sourest punch.

I want to wrap you in my arms and share all of my lessons with you. I want to tell you to change the world and save safe place for the deep disappointments that will come. They will come. But you will overcome those too.

I am so proud of all of you. Finding your way, claiming your story, sharing your heart. You bring joy to my heart. You are an encouragement.

You are ready.





Maybe there’s a God above
But all I’ve ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya
And it’s not a cry that you hear at night
It’s not somebody who’s seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah


I believe in God. I wrestle at depths beyond the ocean floor with reconciling what I learned, experienced, and see as it relates to my beliefs. Who He is. Who I am in Him. Who cares anyway. My dreams. Disappointments. My hope.

But this song.

Like the steady beating of my heart it draws me close. I feel the emotions stirring deep in my heart and there are no words. My fingers fumble on the keyboard wanting to find the words. Desperate. There must be words for the humble heart cry of this broken hallelujah.

It’s a cold and its a broken Hallelujah.

It’s a Hallelujah.

*   *   *



Yellow and White Lines

My heart quivered in my chest as I watched her carefully express her heart. Her eyes full of life and hope. Unaware, our chatter continued forward.  We covered life and rules and relationships. Boundaries and cell phones and social media. The value of being who you are all the time, no filter, no screen needed. And vice versa. Be who you are all the time. Authenticity.

“But… people always want to know what I did wrong.”

As soon as the words left her lips, my hurt jumped to my throat. I nearly panicked. That’s what she believes? That all boundaries are bad?

“Not true at all… you did nothing wrong, in fact because you have done so well.”

*   *   *

Boundaries are the yellow and white lines that are on every highway. I can cross a boundary when I need to. To do things like passing or to turn. But if I recklessly cross a boundary I could also end up in the ditch, or wrapped around a telephone pole. Those lines, those boundaries, are there to guide me to my destination. They are there to give me freedom to find my way, take any road I want while they guide me forward.

Boundaries are lines beckoning me to press on, move forward, rise above, arrive at the destination.

*   *   *

I am her biggest champion. I want her to have the confidence it will take to stay on the road when all the elements of peer pressure and breakups fishtail her off course. I want to cheer through all turns, twists, and open road as she runs her race.

I also want her to understand, to know that every relationship has boundaries. Boundaries are at school and work. Friends and family. Boundaries are healthy and good.

*  *  *

What other boundaries do we live with that we rarely give second thought to? Can you think of other examples?




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