Most days, life feels typical and normal. And by normal I mean totally crazy and wonderful and exhausting. But then there are the days filled with family visitations and social workers when I remember this life I signed up for isn’t normal; sometimes it’s flat-out hard and frustrating.
I am with you, kindred foster parent, in the trenches of this beautiful, messy life.
As someone who internalized at a young age that she was a sinner before she was anything else, I struggle when it comes to discerning my needs or trusting my instincts. Though I admittedly do it more often than not, I don’t think it’s right to put myself first.
Sinful from birth means selfish by nature. It means naturally thinking that the world should revolve around me. What I ought to do is forget my needs and extend myself in the service of others, not spiral inward and into my own self-indulgence.
The moment I walk into a room, eyes are fixed on me, prices in shops are raised, and the bottles of water are dusted off. Before I can open my mouth in my broken, native tongue, who I am has already been established; my salary has been assigned, my religion guessed, and, in some cases, the food I eat and how I eat it. All of these things have been decided based the color of my hair and skin.
God made a man. Then I made that man into an idol.I didn’t melt down gold and bow before a gleaming calf. There were no cultish practices or pagan sacrifices. The truth is that idolatry looks nothing like what I thought.