I got a text while I was on my lunch break.

“His mom didn’t show up. Now I’m listening to the song you sent me and sobbing in my car”.

I’m three blocks away. I counted down, 5..4..3..2..1.. and texted back.

“I’m so sorry friend. Need a hug? Or a taco? It’s on me. I’m already nearby.”

Then I held my breath. Checked and re-checked the phone. Looked outside to see if I could see her car from my office. After what seemed like a long time but was probably only a minute, a text came back.

“I’m not really hungry. Coffee?”

I was already in my car. I slow-rolled up to where she was parked and started frantically throwing trash into the backseat, because #momlife. She got in and we started driving. She got a text with an excuse, a reason why his mom didn’t come. Maybe it was true. Maybe it wasn’t. The fact that she was stood up, stung. The fact that it was the mom of a child they share stung even more.

See, my friend is a foster parent.

And so am I.

And for a moment in time, we were able to sit over a cup of coffee and bare our hurts and our frustrations and our joy. I got to share with someone else who knows exactly what this very unusual world feels like. Her son is small, mine was much older, and our experiences have been on opposite sides of the foster care spectrum so far. But there were so many similar threads to our stories.

For a while, we talked, grieved a little, and let some of the hurt out just by talking about it. When she left, she felt a little lighter and so did I. It didn’t do much to change our circumstances, but it did change our perspective. Because for a moment, instead of doing this hard thing alone, we were doing it together.

After she left, I sat listening to a song that I’ve had on repeat the last few days.

He is good, and He is God.
What I earned, is not what I got
He is just, and oh so kind
What I deserve, it’s not what I find
What more can I say about Him?
My God is love.

And the longer I listened, the more I realized that I have so many things in common with her son’s mom and my son’s mom. So many things that frustrate me and that I don’t understand, are the very things that I do to God.

I don’t show up. He calls and waits for me, and I don’t come. I lie for no reason, and I willingly trade out the holy for the cheap lies Satan feeds me. I choose comfort and convenience over sacrifice and obedience. I pimp myself out to social media and netflix, wasting all of my time there like an addict.

When we first started foster parenting, I thought we were better than the bio parents on the other side of this. I was so prideful and foolish. I see now, that it’s only grace. It could have just as easily been me on the other side of this if circumstances were different.

It already is me, returning to my God over and over, broken and in the same desperate place He rescued me from not moments or days before.

He is good, and oh so kind
what I deserve….is not what I find.

I’m thanking Him for that tonight.