I Choose

I was scrolling through FaceBook aimlessly. There was a post meant to encourage foster/adopt parents with a neat image with words…”I Chose” is how every sentence started. I pushed the “share” button. Then I paused. I chose? No. No, I did not “chose” (grammatical error intended).
To say I chose this would be giving me way more credit than I deserve.
It’s not that I don’t love all my children with a love so fierce it feels like it will choke the life out of me at times. It’s not that I won’t give anything I have in this life – including my own life – to give all my children whatever they need to be successful. But I did not “chose” this.
You see, the me who “chose” the baby who needed me, smiled up at me, and slept peacefully in my arms would not have had the strength or faith to “chose” the child who would leave scars on my arms and holes in my walls. The me who “chose” the child who desired a family and ran into my arms did not have the strength or faith to “chose” the child who would reject me and my love because of struggles with mental illness and emotional damage left by first families. 
I could not have “chose” if given the full picture! If I could have seen down the road past the curves, the mountain tops, and the valleys, I have no doubt I would have shrunk back in fear and trepidation! It is why God calls it faith – being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see! It is why He tells us not to worry about tomorrow because today has enough trouble of her own! God gave me the heart and the strength to “chose” what I saw in that moment, but to say I chose gives me more credit than I deserve.
I said yes without knowing what I “chose”. But today, like so many of you who also “chose” without knowing, I choose! I choose to love despite the rejection. I choose to look for one more treatment that might work despite that 157 that did not to stop the meltdowns. I choose to not give up. I choose to wipe the blood, pick up the broken lamps, broken pictures, and shattered glass to try again. I choose to advocate again and again for things as simple as modifications to assignments so my child can be successful. I choose to get out of bed one more day despite feeling like things will never change. I choose to let die the dreams of the family life I wanted, and I dream new dreams – modified dreams. I choose to not give up. I choose to stay home from the event others are attending because there is no one who can watch our children and handle what “might” happen. I choose to cry alone when I overhear what other mothers are saying about my child. I choose to not give up. 
I choose to see who God has created each of my children to be, and call that out in them no matter what the world says! I choose to hold them tight as my silent tears fall into their hair knowing I can’t stop their heartbreak over circumstances that are due to no choice off their own – yet they suffer. They didn’t get a choice! I choose to love beyond the rejection. I choose to stay committed no matter the pain or frustration.
So did I “chose”? Nope! I couldn’t have. I wasn’t that strong or mature. But do I choose? Absolutely! Every day I have breath I will choose my children. Again. And again. And again.