I’m so excited to be doing the first regular post here! I’ve been ecstatic to have Uncommon Grace up and running after the official launch last week. I’ve put a lot of effort into getting this site “right” and by this I mean editing the old posts I decided to bring over from my old site, redoing and editing my photography, and agonizing over my word choice for the pages. I spent a lot of time on it and I had begun to feel like I poured my heart and soul into it.
But, I can’t really do that. More on that in a second.
This time in May is hard since I always remember the birthday we should be celebrating, but aren’t.
It has been awhile; like most women who’ve miscarried, I can be far more specific about how long ago, but it probably wouldn’t interest anyone to know how many years, months, weeks, days and even hours. The point is it is still with me. I think about the baby I never got to hold, but I will always hold in my heart.
I clearly laugh often as a parent.
No matter how much I try, I can never fully expect what they will come up with next. This photo, while a couple of years old, is evidence of that.
Luke was only three years old and had gotten in the habit of screaming, “NEEEEED COFFEEEEE!” It is always a good point to take pause when kids start doing some very adult behaviors. Apparently, I am far too coffee-dependent.
It started this week when I was on the phone with a nurse discussing my foster daughter’s health. As many of my friends know, we’ve spent an incredible amount of time trying to do everything possible to get her healthy… or more realistically, as healthy as possible for the past 6 months. She is absolutely precious and I love her like she is my own so I am honored and humbled to be able to do this for her.
But, with this has come some surprising consequences.
I’ve had something on my chest for a long time. A really long time. And I was once guilty of it too:
Judgment for people whose kids are in foster care.
I used to think, “Seriously? How could you let stuff get that bad that someone had to come take your kids for their safety? Don’t you even care?”
I absolutely love Easter! It has been a part of my story since the very beginning. Let me explain:
I was born on Easter. It has always been a joke amongst our family that I was born into the church since my parents were timing contractions as they sat through the Easter morning service listening to Chuck Swindoll. Apparently, his message that morning got me excited about life and I made my official entry a later that evening. Continue reading