The struggle is real.

You’re pulling away. Everything I do or say is wrong.

I gave what I could: a home, food, clothing, fun family adventures and most importantly… love.

If you’re walking away thinking that everything I gave was bad or wrong; if that is what it takes for you to grow and move into the next stage of life, then I release you. I give you freedom to choose to stay or go.

I understand how difficult growth can be. I also know that someday, not far off into the future you will realize just what a gift that you’ve been given. The sweet memories of the laughter and the life we shared will bubble up… up to the surface from where you stuffed them.

I can see that the strong words you use are just a wall you are building to protect yourself from the memories so you can free yourself to move on.

You have my love, and I know that although you may not or perhaps choose to not say it, that you love me too.

So now I do my hardest work and that is on my knees, praying for you, my child. I pray for all those around me hiding in the darkness. I pray for them to see the light and for them to find their way once again.

And I trust in the strength that I’ve been given from above that you will indeed find your way. In the meantime, my tears are being collected, my worn-out jeans have been patched at the knee, and I press on. You, my child, are worth it all. You are etched into my very being… you are mine and you are so loved!  ~ Mom

*I wrote this several years back, but oh how it speaks to my momma’s heart. Indeed, the struggle is real. I hope it will help others who are struggling through this season.

Blessings,

~Debbie G

#SeekingIndependence #SpreadingWings #StrugglingToLetGo

Sometimes in my early morning, you’ll find me at the kitchen sink. I have learned that it’s best to wash my dishes as I dirty them, but occasionally a busy evening gets too long. And the longer they sit, the harder they are to get clean. So, this morning I was scrubbing the inside of my pot and thinking about the outside. The flames of our gas stove really build-up on the surface and it’s practically impossible to keep the exterior clean without a lot of time and energy. I mostly do a quick scrub and keep my pans hidden away. Honestly, it doesn’t bother me much. It’s not like the exterior of the pan affects the food I serve, although some may judge me on how bad my pots and pans look. Kind of like what people do too. There’s a world of judgment on external factors while ignoring the internal ones. A scarred exterior can keep people from even drawing close enough to peek at who you are.

Even the woman who attended Jesus, pouring expensive perfume on his feet, and anointing Him for His task ahead was judged on her appearance. A prostitute. Unworthy.  Her waste of money could have been given to the poor. It was unwarranted external judgment, yet Jesus holds her up as an example stating what she had done will always be remembered as good. And 2000+ years later, this holds true. Jesus looked through to the window of her heart.

Internally, I’ve been dealing with an issue. I have an abscessed tooth. The pandemic complicated matters, and it took ten days to get in to the dentist for the diagnosis. Then an oversight led to waiting another two weeks to get a referral to a specialist. My limited supply of antibiotics kept the infection from progressing, but my body was unable to heal until the needed root canal pulled the infection from my bad tooth. The specialist said that the wait allowed the infection to travel into my empty nasal cavity. Yup, I also now have a sinus infection! Without cleaning out the root I was only getting sicker.

Jesus gave His own example of inward importance within the ordinary. At His last meal, eaten with friends, he held up an everyday cup and said, “This is the blood of my covenant.” His focus was on the drink, not the cup. A promise of forgiveness was offered. An exquisite transaction, His personal suffering for flawed mankind. It’s the very message of the gospel and hope for a condemned world.

Our inner man is either our strength or our weakness. Character shows up in the overflow of the heart. So, as my internal infection clears and I hide away my dirty looking pans, I think about Holy Week. I ponder Jesus’s Walk from the Garden of Gethsemane to the torture of the cross. I am so glad He accepted me in my uncleanliness and was willing to be judged in my place. I’m awestruck that a supernatural God would die for me. It’s beyond comprehension. My choked response is, “Thank you, Jesus.”

Blessings,

Debbie G

NOTE- This message was one of the many I sent to my children during a 9-month period. I called them my ‘Mom Monday emails.’ I will be occasionally posting them here. (original date 3/29/21)

You’ll find both biblical references here: Matthew 26:6-28

#GettingtotheRoot #ACloserLook #OverflowOfTheHeart

The phone call came at about 4PM on a Thursday in May 1997.  I watched my kids playing downstairs as I heard my foster daughter’s caseworker tell me that her parents had agreed to give Grandma custody of her the next day.  Court was at 10 AM. I was told to pack her clothes. She’d be picked up for transfer right after court.

First, a wave of shock hit. I had already adopted two boys, and this little girl had been in my home for about two years. I had hoped I could adopt her too. Her one -year-old half-brother slept in a crib in their shared room. 

I called my attorney and was told that the courts frowned on attorneys attending these types of proceedings, so she wouldn’t go with me. I was on my own, and as it stood, even I wasn’t invited to attend.

I called my friends and got some prayers going up for wisdom.  I remember thinking, “God, I don’t know what’s going on, but You do. I trust You.” 

The next day my boyfriend (later my husband) came to the courthouse to support me.

I met Grandma who was seeking custody. She wasn’t interested in raising her grandson, so I brought her only photos of her granddaughter.

When Mom arrived, I approached and gave her photos of both children. She seemed nervous.  As I sat on the bench in the hallway the caseworker came around the corner; he looked surprised to see me. I asked him who the legal guardian was for my foster daughter. He pointed her out and when he left, she and I talked.  I told her that I was concerned about splitting up the kids. She only had the one case file and didn’t know about the brother. She agreed that they shouldn’t be separated. Then asked me if I was interested in adoption. I told her yes, I wanted to adopt both if possible. She bluntly told me to speak up in the court room and to tell the judge that.

When I explained that I wasn’t invited to the proceeding and didn’t think I’d even get a chance to talk. She repeated, “You MUST speak up in court.”

Moments later we were all ushered into the court room. I stood on one side of the caseworker and Grandma was on the other.  Mom stood on the other side of the room, as we all faced the judge. The legal guardian was closer and perpendicular to the judge. She had the ability to see everyone from her vantage point.

The judge acknowledged everyone by name except me, but without looking up he did mention that foster mom was here. He then asked for Dad to be brought in. Dad entered with two police escorts, shackled hand and foot. He took his place between Mom and Grandma.  The judge light heartedly quipped, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

I silently prayed while things progressed. The stenographer typed away as information was tossed about. Then Grandma hesitated. She wouldn’t give her address. He asked her a second time.  Grandma said her daughter had stolen from her and didn’t want her to know where she lived. Then Grandma and Mom began yelling. Mom and Dad began to argue. More policemen poured into the room.

The chaos was reminiscent of a comedy show, only the room crackled with hostility. The judge banged his gavel again and again yelling over the crowd, “Order in the court.” Finally, when he could be heard, he said, “I don’t like this stuff in my courtroom, and I don’t have to take it. In fact, I’m not going to tolerate it. Case dismissed. Everybody out!”

As I followed the murmuring crowd into the hallway, there Dad stood alone with his two guards. I asked if I might talk to him. I explained to him who I was and how wonderful his little girl was. I apologized that I had no pictures with me to share. He gave me his name, and I promised to send him some.

Six months later an order to terminate parental rights came through for both kids. This time we, my new husband and I, met Dad at the proceedings. (Mom didn’t show.) The letters and photos I sent helped him to release his little girl into our life-long care. He signed the paperwork with tears in his eyes.

Today both that little girl and her brother bear our last name. The blessing of my children greatly outweighs the challenges of the struggle that day. Even little ol’ me can stand up against the giant of the unknown and through prayer receive the victory!

Foster-care was indeed a rich blessing for me, and it is still a vital need in our community. It’s not an easy path, but there’s so much love. I’d encourage you to pray and investigate this option if you’re looking to expand your family. Thanks for listening.

Blessings,

~Debbie G

#FostercareStory #ChooseAdoption #ChooseToLove

Small beginnings, it’s a great way to learn. I started this webpage years ago, long before I began speaking to groups. I was a busy working mom, and it was a good outlet for my contemplations.

Now I’m learning the skills needed to post videoblogs. Just like little ones learning to walk, it’s a learning process, but I will soon gain speed.

Hope you’ll head over on the video tab and watch my newest video; I call it ‘The Art of Walking.”

So glad you checked in.

Blessings,

~Debbie G

#LittleStepsBigChange #changingpatterns #learningtolean