Right now, we're at the second of the above waiting periods. Our social worker had to turn in all her forms and stuff about us last week, so theoretically, we're being handed over to placement to be on the list for all these three a.m. phone calls we've heard so much about. I don't know if we'll get a specific call telling us, "ok, you're approved, be ready," or if we'll just get that midnight phone call one of these days. (I'll call our social worker and ask about that, I guess.)
At our last interview, she told us she was recommending us for kids 0-6 years old, just one at a time to start off with. (We're open to sibling groups, but she suggests we ease into things at first!)
I've got a lot of nervous energy these days, and had a dream last night that we got a little baby named Claire, who was just a little younger than our Claire, so we had two Claires. Interesting. I have moments of anxiety, but mostly it's just excitement, and the peace that comes with knowing we're doing something we're called to do.
A fearful side of me dreams up worst-case scenarios of how our family might be affected, but honestly, the big "horror story" that comes to mind isn't even reality, but a line from Anne of Green Gables, when Mrs. Lynde warns Marilla about adopting, saying there was an orphan in some other town who poisoned the well and killed the whole family.
In reality, what I keep hearing over and over are stories of families and children blessed by fostering:
- the mechanic at CarMax who told me about his best friend, whose family fostered throughout his growing up years, and who still considers all those children his brothers and sisters.
- the old lady on a bus who told my coworker how she gets so many calls on Mother's Day from grown children she fostered.
- kids whose families fostered who are now going to school in social work and can't wait to become foster parents themselves.