This year we finally made it to Candy Lane at Hershey Park. It was a cold, damp evening and we didn't know the lay of the land, but that didn't stop the kids from wanting to do everything - all at the same time, but all in different directions. We relied solely on those large arrow-shaped signs to direct us to various locations and attractions in the park.
During these past few weeks it would have been helpful to have signs and arrows to direct me through life. And yet, when I stop and process, there is a realization that my steps, my thoughts, my emotions, my actions and reactions have been guided.
Enjoying the Candy Lane experience did not happen without some hitches: rides closed due to weather, cold feet from walking through puddles that went unseen because we were busy looking at the lights, two boys without gloves but with frozen hands, an overwhelmed and over-tired baby, disagreements over who would ride which ride with whom, tears from not being tall enough (or too tall) for a certain attraction, whining to re-ride a favorite ride regardless of the wishes of the others. Eventually we made it to every location and everyone got to ride what they wanted; and at the end of the night, the kids all agreed that it was something they'd like to do again next year.
Standing at the end of this year and ready to enter the next did not go without some hitches. In fact, there were hours and days that were very hard to get through, so hard that it seemed as if the other side of Christmas might never come. Finding that Christmas spirit was difficult, going through the motions of our family traditions was tedious at times and I was just sure that the kids would miss out on the fun, as well as the deeper meaning, of Christmas.
With Baby H leaving, a big chunk of my heart was gone, too. There was a true grieving process and I waffled between wanting it to just be over - to be back to "normal" - and wanting to wallow in my sadness and feelings of loss. Having to do all the Christmas activities without him in our family (after I had imagined doing all those things with him) was painful; much like trying to enjoy Candy Lane with soaking wet, cold feet.
Signs and arrows in the form of friends - offering hugs and prayers, calling and texting to check in, giving guidance in letter-writing, encouraging and affirming my parenting skills and methods - provided direction in the midst of my floundering.
I received direction in that: we could still advocate for the baby - we wrote a very strong letter to the Commissioner of Philadelphia, and copies to everyone we could think of, letting them know that this baby deserves better than to be tossed about the system; our home was considered a safe place - we were asked to provide respite care for a baby during the week of Christmas; God is caring for Baby H - I was able to visit him in his new foster home where there is a family who loves him and will look out for him just like we did; other children need us - two weeks after the baby moved we were called about taking another placement.
This week I was reminded that God has plans that I know nothing about, that I can't understand, but that are perfect. And like our Hershey Park adventure, in which there were many times we didn't know how to get to where we wanted to go, and the physical conditions were less than comfortable; at the end of it all, the unanimous decision was to repeat the experience next year.
Our new placement - a precious little girl - will arrive on New Year's Eve. Before getting the phone call and without knowing her or anything about her, I have been praying for her; since December 14 when I contacted the agency to say that we were ready to receive placements, I began to pray for the child that God would send.
Although this is not what I would have chosen for our family to walk through, nor where I would have imagined myself and our family to be, this is where we are. And I am sure that the God who brought us here has us right where we need to be.
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