I fell asleep with four children and woke up with five (I was not pregnant).

2022 arrived with grand aspirations, or so I believed. Little did I know, God had different plans, and I'm gradually coming to understand that His ways are always loftier and more profound. As my husband and I embarked on this new year, we were filled with motivation. Life was settling into a somewhat predictable rhythm. Our bedroom, once occupied by children for three years (a story for another time), was finally ours again. The sweet sound of a full night's sleep had returned, and let me tell you, the productivity of a well-rested mama is a force to be reckoned with – something I had nearly forgotten. Our basement renovations were wrapping up, bidding farewell to the constant intrusion of semi-strangers in our home. Three years of Foster Care and nearly a year of renovations had accustomed us to the unpredictable flow of visitors at our doorstep. But now, January had dawned, and it felt like life was falling into place.

I began to plan, to set ambitious goals. This was the year I would dive headfirst into my modest side business. This was the year I would enroll my precious 3-year-old in preschool, allowing me to tackle my work from home. This was the year of early morning workouts – the year of rising to read my Bible and pray before the children stirred. And oh, how we thrived in January! Every day, we remained steadfast on our path. It felt invigorating, and our hearts brimmed with gratitude for the miraculous ways God was orchestrating our lives. Despite the hardships of the past few years, it was clear that He was crafting a story far more magnificent than our wildest dreams. Our trust in Him deepened, and our prayers echoed with a plea to be filled with His Spirit.

Then, out of the blue, a phone call disrupted our plans. "This is the Division of Child Protection and Permanency; we need to discuss something with you. A relative placement. We know your home is closed, but we'd like to talk." My heart skipped a beat, confusion sweeping over me. What relative? Did my husband have a long-lost cousin with a child in need of a home? I dialed back hastily, only to discover that my adopted daughter's biological parents had welcomed another child into the world. It was a shock for various reasons. The baby was safely at the hospital, and just like my daughter three years earlier, struggling through withdrawal from cocaine and heroin addiction. She needed a home, and she needed to be with her sister. Without hesitation, we said yes.

And so, I've embarked on this blog as an attempt to articulate the intricate tapestry of life. It's a testament to trusting a loving Father who comprehends our needs even before we voice them. It's my imperfect endeavor to bring order to the chaos and to savor the joys within our cozy, albeit tiny, home. Did I mention that our home is tiny? I'm learning slowly, that joy can thrive right here within these walls. I don't need to look beyond what the Lord has provided. I have all that I need. Once again, I'm discovering the profound truth that His ways are higher, and I need not fret. It would be an honor if you joined me on this journey.