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I often have people call me “supermom” and always feel the need to inform them that I most defiantly am not. Some days it is good just to get everyone dressed and out the door even if one of them has “crazy hair” or is missing a sock, or forgot to brush their teeth, or is wearing red skinny jeans with a green t-shirt and a Christmas necktie. Trust me, there is just no super in that!
There are days where I am just tired, where one of the kids work up 12 times the night before. Days when I don’t want to wipe another runny nose, or change another diaper, or deal with the insecurities and demands of a child who has experienced neglect inflicted upon them by another. In those days I do not feel super at all, and it is in those kind of days where I realize my selfishness. You see when I am thinking only about me, I don’t want to wake up 12 times a night to put a scarred child back to bed, I don’t want to wipe that runny nose again, or change one more poopie diaper. I get tired of constantly assuring and comforting a child who has previously been neglected. That’s where my job as a Momma begins, when I put aside my own feelings, my own tiredness, my selfishness and I meet my children’s needs. It’s nothing super, I assure you. It is simply a choice to think of my children first. Isn’t that what every good Momma does?
Honestly, I think the only reason people think I am super at all is because I am doing something they think they could never do. I am a foster momma, opening my home and my heart to kids who I may have to let go. A friend recently posted a great response to this: Dear Person Who Said to Me Today,”I could never be a foster parent like you. I’m afraid I would love them too much to give them back.” You’re probably the 999th person who’s said that to me and I’m pretty sure you won’t be the last. I’m also pretty sure you didn’t mean to imply that because I’ve ‘given them back’, I couldn’t possibly love them as much as you would. I’m concerned that you may misunderstand love so let me describe for you what it is to love a foster child. Love stays up all night rocking a crack baby in withdrawal. Love keeps a vigil over the little boy in the crib flailing from shaken-baby syndrome. Love privately cries over the heartbreaking goodbyes and then love is just crazy enough to get up and embrace the next battered child with open arms and an open heart. Love is a verb. It pours out, it bleeds,it cries, it sacrifices. I’m absolutely certain that love does not withdraw to safety and comfort while congratulating itself for ‘loving too much’. When you say to me that you’re afraid you would love them too much to give them back, you’ve said nothing about protecting a child whose well being is threatened, only about protecting yourself. You’ve actually told me nothing about love, only about fear. written by an unknown Foster parent”
So maybe putting aside our own selfishness and fear is supermom material. I think it is just God’s Love in us, helping us to do more than we ever could on our own. I am not supermom, but I do serve a super God!