Downstairs

Today my house is quiet.

The littles are at school and here I sit out on the back deck reflecting on the whirlwind that has been the past five days. Birds are chirping, I can hear the pond ripping and the sun is shining bright.

Anyone one would think that's a great day, right? Yes, matter of fact it is. Except that I miss those three little voices.

The floor has been mopped and those little feet aren't tracking dirt across it anymore from playing outside. That floor looks pretty but oh how I would love to paint those little toes right about now. Or watch them make tracks across my kitchen.

My hands have washed dishes and made breakfast and lunch today. I've written out bills, run errands and folded laundry. But oh how I would love to reach down with these hands and pick up a little saying, "Hold me, Miss Angel."

My heart is content knowing that the Varney family is living out it's purpose but it aches a little too.

The sting of loss still comes even though peace has now been found and justice served.

When we first signed up for foster classes I was sure that I wanted to adopt as quickly as possible and be done with fostering as quickly as possible as well. "We'll take about a one year old," I thought. "Hopefully we can adopt and then be done."

But God seems to have other plans.

Because at three am we received a phone call Friday morning not for one or two but three littles....we knew the time was right. These children needed us.

It was a pleasure caring for them Friday and Saturday but it quickly became apparent that they had a loving father who had flown in from out of state unaware of the situation. That precious daddy loved his girls and he needed us to be his advocate. He didn't ask, I just knew.

So one event led to another, all set up by our amazing heavenly father and yesterday I found myself in a courtroom going to bat for dad.

As I sat there I remembered all the times that I had thought this is EXACTLY the kind of situation I would never find myself in. I never intended to go before a judge if it wasn't required. I'd rather stay home and play and rock children and leave the rest to the professionals.

Matter of fact, I met a sweet lady who has walked this road ahead of us earlier this year. "Be the advocate for these children," she said. "You put on your three piece suit and hold your head high. Fight for these kids." She freaked me out a little and I really thought I'd just never have to do that.

But again, God had other plans.

She was the first one the Lord brought to my mind as the weekend unfolded. I knew what I had to do. And although I don't own a three piece suit, I did put on my Sunday best and apparently it worked a little because when I arrived yesterday no one knew who I was without my hair in a ponytail and my t shirt on. Big smile.

I knew that if thing's went dad's way I would be grieving a little today-but he needed his girls more than I did. With a lot of prayer and a God sent lawyer, things did in fact go his way and when I walked through the door last night and told three little girls that they were going to daddy's house you should have heard the squeals of delight.

Our God is so good. He is so faithful.

Those three little girls slept in two of our rooms upstairs while they were here. Several times today I've cleaned up toys, folded laundry and headed that way. But I always stop at the bottom of the stairs. And that's ok.

I've learned that sometimes walking in God's will comes with a little pain. You know what? My sins cost Him pain too. If I can bring a little redemption to a broken situation?

Well you better bet your last dollar that I'd do it all again.

But today I think I'll just stay downstairs.