Yoke Up and Love Yourself

Writing is therapeutic for me.  There is something about pouring your heart out on paper that brings healing.  There is something even deeper when you allow yourself to make it public- to be vulnerable for the sake of others, to inspire, to stir up the ground so a lesson takes root.  But I am going to get real honest..

It's been too hard this year.

It's been to hard to sit down with my tired self.  It's been too hard to type the letters, that formulate the words that can even come close to accurately portray my messy heart.  And, the truth is... I haven't wanted to.  It's not just making it public, I couldn't even find the emotional energy to write it in my beloved journal.   It was just too hard.

I found myself daily with a certain amount of emotional energy and I chose to pour everything I had into people- Elijah, our foster son that we had for almost a whole year, his mom who is in the midst of her own struggle of addiction, hurting neighbors, and our own kids.  And now, we find ourselves with a little 3 year old girl- who has been moved 8 times in her short 3 years of life.  Her trauma is extensive, her wounds run deep and the only way she knows how to communicate is screaming and misbehaving to get the attention she desperately craves.

Monsters have come out of me in the last few months that I didn't even know existed- Impatience, anger, self-hatred, pride...  These "monsters" have many different faces, but they all have a common trait- they want to steal, kill and destroy the abundant life in me and my family.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."   John 10:10


I read this verse in the midst of trying to "tame" the monsters and I was stuck on the truth that Jesus came to give life and life abundant.  Then why do I feel like I am drowning all the time?
I want to thrive in my days, not just survive them.  I don't want to feel like I am just keeping my head above water.  And, to be completely frank.. I was mad.  I told God, "I am pouring out everything to serve you and love on the broken and I am running on fumes."  I was completely empty- grieving my foster sons that have left (even though there's joy in their permanency), the brokenness of the world, the pain and heartache of addiction, the hopeless look in my neighbor's eyes... it's just too overwhelming.  It's too hard.  This is "abundant" life, God?

Then He reminded me of this verse:
"For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."  Matthew 11:30

Somehow in the midst of living in a state of grief, adjusting to new "normals" constantly, I became a person pulling all the heavy burdens of so many.  I saw myself pulling this huge old cart with heavy rocks all by myself.  It wasn't a quick switch one day, but a gradual letting go of being yoked up with God.  No wonder I am so exhausted... I de-yoked.

In the midst of this revelation, my eyes started to open and see the way I abuse myself- refusing to have self -love and self care.  I beat myself up over and over again over my shortcomings and failures- not being enough, doing enough for everyone that needs it.  Even though pouring out and serving is complete joy to me, there was a hard reality that I don't take care of myself.   And if I can't take care of myself then everyone else is getting my leftover fumes... and that doesn't help anyone.

Loving yourself and taking care of yourself does not equal selfishness.  

I had the head knowledge of this, but I am now learning how to actually live in to it.  I don't think it's something that people can perfectly master because every season brings on new challenges, but I already feel like the burden has lightened.  It took yoking back up with God to see my empty abused self.  And when I did, He was there to walk me through how to start letting Him love on me, and love myself too.

My tattoo on my wrist is a simple reminder of the commands of the Lord that sum them all up:
Love God 
Love others. 

A friend once told me regarding my tattoo, "You forgot one.  You forgot Love Yourself."  As I scoffed at the idea (thinking it was a selfish thought), she reminded me that the scripture says "Love your Neighbor as yourself."  Well, if you don't love yourself well... how can you love your neighbors well?

I am passionate about inspiring others to live a life poured out, but learning to yoke up with God and taking care of yourself is essential in ministry.

Love Yourself
Don't leave people with your stinky fumes.

The Beautiful and the Ugly

The following post was written by Shellie Salza- a dear friend and sister whom I admire and deeply love. We have the honor of walking out this fostercare journey alongside eachother and I can honestly say it has kept us going when we want to give up.  Having someone understand the depth of the pain and joy that comes with this "adventure" has been essential to our ministry.  

Last Friday, the Salzas adopted their foster son Malachi.  He has really been a "Salza Boy" for 18 months, but watching the official milestone unfold was incredible. 
Shellie- Thank you for your willingness to share a part of your story.



Reflections of Adoption/Fostercare a week later
Because I continually call out Facebook as a liar, an easy way for us to portray a highlight reel of our lives without including the reality of life (and I feel called to be real in all my circumstances) I'm sharing more of what last Friday represents for us as a family:

Last Friday was beautiful. I laughed and smiled so much my cheeks ached. I cried so much my water proof mascara was a joke. I loved every minute of sharing our precious Malachi with friends and family. I cherish every message and thought received through our announcement about this major milestone. I will hold every conversation, hug and well wish from all those who came to celebrate with us in my memory bank forever. 

Friday was beautiful.

I read an article last week titled "Adoption is Ugly". It was written by a Mom being real. It resonated. And now, after that beautiful day, I'm letting myself reflect over the last eighteen months. 

My conclusion is clear.

Adoption is beautiful. 

Adoption is ugly. 

Fostercare changed our family. 

It's a simple matter of mathematics. The extreme attention we had to give in the beginning to this little stranger in our lives directly took time and attention away from our older two. 

While we mourned for all that this little guy had endured and wanted nothing more than to love it all away, getting to know him and looking past the initial behavior to figure out who was underneath all the layers of hurt was hard.

Fostercare has changed me.

The screaming, the biting, the head banging, the long nights were taxing...on all of us. My patience wore thin. Babysitters became a thing of the past. Even sitting next to Mike in church, relaxed and attentive ceased with a three year old testing and fighting every boundary. 

Outside our home as we ran into people who were meeting him for the first time I was so proud of him. At the same time, I was frustrated at how often strangers, friends and family dismissed our older two children as they went on about our newest member. 

The looks we got when we decided to try any normal outing when our family dynamic had become anything but normal were palpable. We were 'those' parents with 'that' child overnight. 

I learned a lot about myself. I'm not always kind, I'm not always patient, I'm not always loving, I'm not always forgiving. I care a lot about what others think when out in public. I fall short of what these boys need and deserve daily.

Fostercare has changed all of us. 

It's forced me to really see what goes on in my own town. Addiction, abuse, neglect, trafficking, homelessness... 
It's so easy to believe it happens somewhere else. It doesn't. It happens in all our towns.

The boys, especially my oldest, have been forced to see it too. They have a heart for people all around us I know I didn't teach them. They're more ready to love most days than I am.

Today we're a family of five. We have been for a long time.

Adoption is the perfect picture of who we are in Christ. 

Adoption comes from brokenness. 

Brokenness is all around us. 

Beautiful things come from it. 

All of us can play a part.

A Letter to Addiction

Dear Addiction,

You are a thief.

You have stolen homes, cars and other material possessions that people have worked so hard to get. Because of you, people have watched all of their earthly possessions be auctioned off never to be seen again... including sentimental pictures and personal works of art.

But, you are worse than that.

Those things are....things.  Some of those earthly possessions can be replaced and don't really matter in the big picture of life.

Because of you, people have lost their jobs.  They can't find another job because of their past, because of their record, because they haven't been able to hold down a job because they can't function to the capacity they used to before they were introduced to... you!  Now, they can't provide for their basic needs because they don't have a job....because of you!  Because they can't meet their basic needs, they get desperate and do irresponsible things just to survive... keep a roof over their head, food on the table, heat in their house...

But, you are even worse than that.

You are a fire that burns bridges between people.  Your flames go high and are destructive.  People can't remember where their stories start and where they end... there are so many lies, so many broken promises...because of you.  You destroy families and tear apart friendships. You ruin people's support, you annihilate trust... you sever relationships.  

But, you are even worse than that.

Because of you.... because of YOU... you have caused parents to leave their children as orphans.

But... YOU ARE EVEN WORSE THAN THAT!  

You convince people that they are nothing.  You convince them that even if they try they will fail.  You manipulate them in to thinking that even if they are succeeding that they better sabotage everything before they get hurt again.  You rob people of their self-worth, their hope, their true character, their potential and their purpose of life.  

Addiction, you really want me to turn to hate and be full of anger.  You make me want to give up hope on people that you have so entangled in your deception and lies....but that is what you want, isn't it?

Well, I have news for you.

I refuse for you to manipulate me in to hate and add fuel to that fire.  I will fight for those that are chained up in the bondage of addiction.  I will pray for freedom. I will love those children who have lost their parents because of you.   I will always hope for healing and full redemption.

Oh, and Addiction... one more thing...

I believe in miracles. Even though you are powerful... nothing is more powerful than my God who has the power to break every chain.  He already has victory!  
Are you shaking yet?



Sincerely,
Lisa Russell

Good Grief

May... 

This month carries a lot of emotion for me.

It brings back memories of graduating.  Graduating from high school, anxious to move forward with my life and get away from the hometown that I never thought I would move back to. 10 years ago I graduated from college which I still believe was a miracle of Jesus since I switched majors 4 times and had a hard time...well, er.. making it to class.

I got engaged in May of 2005.  A few months prior I happened to "conveniently" find some jewelry store business cards in my boyfriend's room... so every time we went out for 3 months or so I had my nails done wondering if that was the night he was going to propose!  I never thought it would be a night that we were running errands and grabbing dinner...that gorgeous night at the beginning of May he put a ring on my finger and made me the happiest girl alive.

It was the month of May that I found out I was pregnant with Isaiah in 2007 and with Samuel 5 years later. Oh, the unfathomable joy of seeing 2 lines on a pregnancy test... screaming, running around showing everyone a stick you just peed on!

With all this to celebrate in May, it also brings grief.

I mourn with women that struggle on Mother's Day- those that are battling infertility, miscarriage, the loss of a baby, those that don't have a good relationship with their mom's or not a relationship at all.  I think of the single moms that are doing it all by themselves on the one day they should get a break. This day brings sorrow to so many.

May 10th brings the anniversary of Joel's brother, Drew.  It's been 8 years since Joel got that awful phone call that he took his own life.  We still mourn and miss him.

Grief is unpredictable. You can be doing fine and then there is some sort of trigger that sets off the emotion.  It can catch you by surprise and consume you for a moment, for days, years...

The sneaky thing crept up on me unexpectedly in the last few weeks.  Last year, on May 23rd we buckled our foster son in to his car-seat and said goodbye when he got adopted by a family member that lives out of state.  We got him when he was 16 days old and had him for his first 11 months of life.  There is so much that we celebrate with his story, yet it was a loss to us in some ways.  As foster parents, you sign up for grief but it doesn't make it any easier.  We are grateful to get updates and pictures now and then, but he was our son and now he is not.  I don't know how else to describe it.
I never expected that this would feel like an anniversary of a death... but I find myself grieving in some of the same ways- I'm anticipating May 23rd, replaying in my head what was happening at this time last year, crying randomly and looking at his pictures.  I can't shake the thought of him, seeing his chubby face and big dark brown eyes before I go to sleep at night.

Grief is so complicated and multifaceted.  It's hard to wrap our human brains around because we tend to want a solution to any problem and we want closure.  But there's never really a "solution,"  we just learn to live on despite our loss.  We want it to stop, but the truth with grief is that it never ends... it just morphs and changes.  The loss doesn't get easier, we just learn to adapt to it more as time goes on.

Grief can invade in a variety of ways- death, job loss, loss of good health, a move, a failed marriage, a broken relationship, a lost dream and apparently letting go of a foster child.  Even grieving the state of the world- the darkness and brokenness that surrounds us here in our own backyards and overseas.
Sometimes it's too heavy to bear...

As I was sharing this weight with a dear wise friend last week- she said,
"sit down and have tea with your grief."
It's a way of embracing the emotion when it comes and responding to what your heart needs in the moment. Now, we all know that it's not healthy to wallow in a dark pit... but there is a difference between engaging the grief and letting it swallow us whole.  When we can name the emotion, sit down and have tea with it - there is opportunity for healing to the open wounds that haven't scarred over yet. There is opportunity to honor our loved ones, be beautifully molded by it and learn to embrace it as part of who we are.  If I don't sit down with my grief- the temptation is to put walls up, to not want to love deeply, to close my home off to kids, to keep them at an arms distance and to get bitter and angry...

I choose tea.

We are all grieving someone or something- big and small.
Take the time to have tea with it and make it good grief.

Childlike Love

The night still seems so vivid- It was my birthday dinner almost 4 years ago. We were out with my parents at a nice Italian restaurant.  I had just ordered, sipped on a glass of red wine questioning if this was a good time to broach the subject or not.  My parents are used to me dreaming big dreams and being passionate about my latest "cause," but how do I relay to them that this is one that we REALLY feel called to- Foster Care.  We were in the midst of grieving a miscarriage and struggling with infertility, but I didn't want them, or anyone else, to think that was why we were getting in to fostering... it was so much deeper than that.    

After a few more sips of wine, Joel and I told them that we wanted to pursue getting certified and wanted their opinion.  Among other insight, their top concern was our son, Isaiah.  He was 3 years old at the time. 

What will this do to him?  

Aren't you putting him in danger?  

How will he emotionally handle this? 

Won't that be hard for him to attach and have to say goodbye?  

It was a good quality conversation that led to some hard questions that we were already asking ourselves.   It's one thing to sign up for something like this, but we are signing up our son as well for this lifestyle.  There was a lot of fear of putting him in danger, a bad situation, or inviting in some sort of emotional trauma.  

We started to pray and ask God if this is in Isaiah's best interest.  And God answered with another question:

"Do you think I would call you out in to fostering without thinking of Isaiah too? I love him more than you do."

Good point.  

Throughout the training and even in to our first placement, that fear over him started to dwindle because he was showing us every day that he was made for this.  It wasn't just about Isaiah being OK living this lifestyle, but he was teaching us how to do it.  It is over and beyond what we could have expected- He handles it better than we do because this is his norm.   

He even explains fostering to others better than I do: 

"Sometimes Mommys and Daddys can't take care of their kids for awhile, so we get to take care of them until they get better.  If they don't get better, then they can go to new Mommys and Daddys or they stay with us forever."  

The other day, I was selfishly feeling a little sad knowing that our current foster son will be moving back home in the next month.  I'm going to miss him and I know that our home won't feel the same without him. I sat down with Isaiah to prepare him, always wanting him to be appropriately in the "loop."  

Me: "Isaiah, it sounds like E will be going back to his mom in the next month.  I just want to let you know that he won't be with us for too much longer." 

Isaiah:  Clapping.  "YAY!  Mom, that is so great!! WhooHoo!" 

Me: (a little caught of guard because I know how much he loves him)  "Really?  You are excited about this?"  

Isaiah:  "Ya, Mom... it's what we always hope for. It means his mom is better. Every kid should be able to be with their mommy."   

It IS what we hope for and it took my 6 year old to remind me... 

Later in the week, I was getting ready in the bathroom while Isaiah was playing with the babies in the nursery.  I heard him talking to them: 

"Sam, you will ALWAYS be my brother.  I will always love you.  And.. E, you know what?  You will always be my brother too.  Even if you don't live here any more, you will always be my brother and I will always love you."

He didn't know I was listening....completely unprompted.  This is unguarded love.   

Sometimes in this dark world, I just want to pull my kids in and put a bubble around them, protecting them against any sight of destruction or hurt.  There is beauty in a mama's heart to protect her children.  I also know I would be missing out if I sheltered my son too much from the reality of what is going on globally and in our own community.  He teaches me every day how to love relentlessly.  

We get so frustrated that the youth in our culture act so privileged and entitled, yet if we keep turning their eyes away they won't see anything outside of their own little bubble.  Our kids and youth have an untainted passion to actually DO something about injustice in this world if we let them.  It's inspiring.   With appropriate guidance, we can train them up to be a generation that has a huge impact on this world by modeling it ourselves.... and at the same time, they can teach us in more ways than we know.  

My biggest prayer for my children is that they will grow up to love so boldly that they spread light in to this dark world.  I want my kids growing up knowing this is the norm...this is what we do... we help, we serve, we love.  

    "Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it."                                                                                                                                                                 -   Proverbs 22:6

ReMoved

Words can't describe how powerful this video is, so just watch it.


 
ReMoved from HESCHLE on Vimeo.

Mother Pollard

You can usually tell what kind of night we have had in the Russell house by how many dirty bottles and diapers we have in the morning.  There were 6 bottles and 5 dirty diapers this morning... rough night.

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and just stare at my bed and I talk to it... "Hi sweet bed.  I am sorry to be leaving you so soon because you are so cozy.  You were so good to me for the little time I spent with you last night.  I'll miss you and think of you often today.  Someday there will be a night where we will get some quality time together...bye bed."

 I am tired.

As most moms know, being a parent is a full time job with unpaid overtime.  Being a foster mom is another full time job- lots of appointments, transporting to/from home-visits, doctors appointments, meetings with attorneys and caseworkers, etc.  I spent a lot of my day today trying to nail down a time for a meeting with bio-mom, caseworker and parent coach.

I am tired.

A lot of the time I am emotionally tired too.  We know that our little guy will be leaving in the next few months, so preparing for another goodbye is always running laps in my brain.  Will he be ok?  Will his mom keep up the good work?  Is there enough support?  Will we be able to stay involved?  Will he wonder if we abandoned him?  Will he be traumatized?

Questions can be a catalyst for exhaustion.

Recently, I keep coming back to one of my favorite stories from the Civil Rights movement that Martin Luther King Jr. often spoke and wrote about.  It's about Mother Pollard who was 72 years old at the time.  During the 1955-1956 Montgomery Bus Boycott (a social protest against segregation in the public transportation system), Mother Pollard was asked if she was tired since she chose to walk for several weeks instead of taking the bus, to which she replied...

"My feets is tired, but my soul is rested."

The quote is so simple, yet so profound.  

When you are tired from serving, it's a good tired.  When you know you must keep marching for the sake of injustice and for life... it's worth it.  I can guarantee that you will find endurance when you are standing up for those that need it most- the needy, the hungry, the orphans, the bullied, the widowed, the social outcast, the broken... the "least of these."

Keep marching.

So, tomorrow morning when I am staring at my bed... or at 3am I will remember Mother Pollard and how tired she was and my soul will be rested.

He is worth it.  It's all worth it.

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."                                 - Galatians 6:9