Almost Unpublishable

I didn't know that working with the governmental powers that be meant you voluntarily gave away your right to freedom of speech. That's why I didn't write for a long while; I couldn't figure out what I could and could not say. When you are a foster parent, you are not supposed to acknowledge to the rest of the world that foster children live in your home (we learned that rule after-the-fact). I'm not even sure I was supposed to tell you their names if we met on the street. And having them loved on by the members of our family and church family was probably a violation of some rule somewhere. According to the state, everything that was real and true in my life for four months was just in your imagination.

But it wasn't. There were some very real children in need of a loving, safe and clean place to play and eat and learn and rest their heads. And by the grace of God, Darin and I got to provide that. They will probably never know we even existed in their lives, since they were so young, but perhaps the ministry we offered them at a critical juncture will lay a foundation that draws them to the Christ who loves them inifitely more than anyone else ever can or will. They left here knowing that a "wise man built his house upon the rock" and "little feet" should be "careful where [they] go," (and "the wheels on the bus go round and round!"). They each heard the name of Jesus from us, Sunday School teachers, nursery workers and countless other believers who held them close. Maybe those tiny seeds were planted deep enough that they'll take root in years to come. That even without daily watering, one day they'll hear the name of Jesus again and subconsciously remember that his name once brought with it happy smiles and loving arms, and they'll call upon him and run to his arms, wherever they are.

I couldn't publish this blog entry when they were with us, and for all I know I may be in trouble for it now, but I'll hire an ambulance-chasing lawyer and stand on the 1st amendment. I guess I was supposed to stick to safe topics like abortion, politics, and religion, because talking about the realities of my life, feelings and home were taboo. What a crazy world we live in. Thank goodness God's still in control; I don't have the foggiest idea what I'd do if I were in charge of cleaning up this mess.

I played the piano today. With the exception of a cumulative 15 minutes, I haven't played since June. It was cathartic to move my fingers over the keys and sing songs of joy and comfort. I have no doubt that God himself ordained those piano lessons years and years ago. He knew I'd need the soothing touch of music on this very day in 2008.