Oh, So You Love A Type 3?

Oh, so you love a Type 3? 

If you’re reading this, you either love a type 3 or you are one and are curious about yourself because, well, it’s who we are. 3’s-calm down and take the back seat for a moment (I know how much you love that) because this is for all of the folks who have to deal with us on an intimate level. 

To the outside world, 3’s are the full package-we are driven, determined to climb to the top, often successful in most things that we do (if we aren’t, we practice and drill ourselves until we are!), attractive, charming, and energetic. Before you think I’m lathering myself and fellow 3’s in compliments, know that there’s a darkness that accompanies being a 3 if we lean towards a stressed wing and not a growth wing. 

While maintaining the image of a role-model, or living a life of “What can they NOT DO?”, 3’s can tend to be workaholics and sometimes so driven to advancement, it becomes an obsession rather than a passion. Augustus Caesar was a 3, okay? Sit on that. 

3’s are often the “stars” of the world, but can become so success-driven, that they cast aside emotions, fearing they would get in the way. When you’re a 3, you’re able to take emotions, box them up, tape the box shut, and put them in the attic when you need to work and get things done. As a 3, I’m able to know that when I’m at work, it’s time to work and be “on” because I need to. Those pesky emotions can wait, right?! Oftentimes, this causes us to come off as cold and withdrawn (let’s face it, sometimes we are just that). 

When we’re healthy, you will love us- we become Lance Armstrong and Oprah. We want to encourage others to their successes because we know how it feels! However, if you love a 3, you know that being a healthy 3 is daily work-we constantly have the need to achieve, achieve, achieve until we suffer lingering on our shoulders. 

This tendency to long to achieve in all areas can cause us to become unbalanced in the areas that REALLY matter, because we are too busy pursuing something to shine another light on us (ouch, but true). If we aren’t kept in check, family is typically what falls to the wayside for a 3–hey kids, I got goals to chase, okay? 

Reality moment-I’m afraid to take 12 weeks maternity leave soon because I’ll have to leave work. Sounds awful, doesn’t it? But, we don’t mean it to be. We are torn between the many passions that we love to juggle and trust me, we feel worse about this characteristic than any judgement you could pass on us. 

Those who love me know to slowly keep whispering that those 12 weeks are needed and work will be around when I come back. 

3’s won’t respond well to emotional outbursts because we don’t understand them. 

3’s come across as cold and detached, but often this is a front-we long to be loved, touched and affirmed consistently by those close to us. 

3’s need to be forced to rest. If you love us, find a way to encourage us to slow down. 

3’s want to see you successful too (when we’re healthy!)-so if we keep bugging you about going back to school, picking up a new skill, pursuing a certification or a new goal, that’s why! 

3’s want to know they’re doing a good job. A random word that we’re a good leader, that you see us, will make our entire week. We will hold onto that encouragement when we feel like we aren’t doing enough. 

3’s may act competitive towards you, but in reality, we are in constant competition with ourselves above all else and can be heartbreakingly harsh and self-critical towards ourselves. 

Lastly, if you love a 3, know that we really do need you. I know we come across as independent, often hard, the kind of person that could leave your friendship in a moment’s notice and not give two rips—-

But in reality, you keep us grounded. Plus, if you weren’t around, we’d have only ourselves to compete against and what fun is that? ;) 

Love (or whatever), 

A Type 3 

https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/type-3

Pickles and Night Terrors

I have been warned of every symptom.

I have researched every ache and twinge-

“You’ll be so sick! You’re going to crave the weirdest stuff. You’ll get swollen. You’re going to be so tired. Just wait. Just wait. Just wait.” 

None of these happened to me, but something else did-and nobody warned me of it. Instead of horror stories of no sleep, pickles, and round ligament pain, I wish they had warned me of how painful the love and anxiety for my unborn child would be. 

Nobody told me I would count her movements as I googled miscarriage statistics. 

Nobody told me I would lay in bed awake on the days she didn’t move as much, because I’m afraid. 

I’m so afraid and so in love. 

Nobody told me I would look back at my toilet paper even on month six, because I’m so afraid and so in love. 

Nobody told me I would wake up from night terrors because I dreamed of her face and it was too beautiful to possibly ever be real, because I’m so afraid and so in love. 

Nobody told me I would stay awake wondering what I would do if the world was cruel to her, because I’m so afraid and so in love. 

Nobody told me that ensuring her existence would consume me, overshadowing daily tasks, because I’m so afraid and so in love.

Everybody warns you of the physical pain that comes with growing life, but nobody warns you of how painful it is to love someone so much that it terrifies you. 

Forming the intricate parts of her seems secondary in labor-arteries like pathways, vessels like tunnels, and organs like a well-balanced orchestra.

Guaranteeing she will breathe the same air that I breathe on a Saturday morning as her father makes breakfast, that she will feel me push her to touch the sky in a park swing, that she will snuggle me as we watch cartoons- this is the labor, the struggle, the pain. 

I am so in love and so afraid. 

Made From Scratch

Today marks six years of living in Missouri, but more important, of owning my story---of holding the pen, of being okay with not having an eraser at the end of my writing tool, allowing each scribble, scratch, line drawn through a word, to tell my messy story. I think it's important to note that we cannot only know our story and expect better results, but we must own it and we must be okay sharing it, exposing it, and tending to it with great care and love. 

I have re-created myself since moving here, so it would be rather easy to float through my new life without exposing the first 23 chapters of it. Nobody would ever know---just doggy-ear those pages, say they aren't important, they're not worth reading, that nobody wants to "see that", or tear them out altogether.

Can we ever understand or accept the entire story, appreciate the ending, without the start--or taking it a step further, the ugly, messy, chicken-scratch of a draft?

Today marks six years of crossing a state's border in the middle of the night, clothes thrown a muck in my backseat, trunk, and floorboard--maybe a dog thrown back there somewhere. Physically shaking, blurred vision through tears, a parent's voice of reason bouncing around my head--yet, I drove. I drove on. I was afraid, but I took the pen. I scribbled--

Chapter 24-Made From Scratch. 

Owning your story isn't some easy thing that you can just do and it's over with. Owning your story is waking up every day determined to create yourself anew, many or most days, absolutely terrified. I believe that many of the things worth doing, creating, writing, jumping towards, are so ridiculous, so insane, irrational even, that 95% of people talk themselves out of ever making a move (physically/emotionally/financially).

You can't tiptoe into the waters of your own story--you have to jump. This isn't a kiddie pool, it's a freaking ocean and if you don't start swimming towards something a little scary, the worse thing will happen to you-

No, you won't drown. Worse. 

You'll learn to just float. You'll learn to lay down in the waters of your own story and let the rip tides carry you wherever they may, with no direction, no fire, no drive, no terrifying, falling moments with the reward of the landing.

I miss the people I love that I left behind. I cry each time I leave my mother's kiss to the forehead, my father's award-winning hugs to his chest, my sister's laughter. I miss them so much that sometimes I have to jump in the car and go see them. Each time I arrive, I am happy--but, each time I leave to return to Chapter 24, I smile and know that I didn't simply land in this part of the story on accident--
I created it myself.

I took all of the lovely, terrifying, devastating, precious ingredients from all of the previous chapters and made something out of it. I think we confuse starting over with throwing out everything that actually made us who we are. 

Don't throw out the pain, the divorce, the losses, the screw-ups, the dark parts--those ingredients are needed too. Own those parts, write them into the recipe. Then, find new, exciting ones and add those in too.

Own your story. 
All of it. 
Gather all of the darkness and all of the light.

Then-and only then, can you make yourself from scratch. 

Mustard Seeds and Hard Things

It's nearly been a year since I've written here- a year. 
If you follow my blog, you know this is out of character for me.
Where have I been, you ask? Navigating one of the hardest years of my life, my family's life.

As I sat across from my husband at the dinner table last week, discussing the last year, we had to slouch back and laugh at how many hard moments we had, how many times we said "it's just a season!" and found ourselves continuing to trudge through murky and confusing moments. 2018 was not short on bullets, let me tell ya!

We lost our foster daughter from our home at the beginning of the year to her past demons that we fought so hard against. The night we lost her, my husband got into a car wreck.
So, we took a break.
During our break, my husband got into a second car wreck which resulted in a serious brain bleed that he's currently still recovering from. There were days in the beginning I didn't think I'd ever get the old Jarrod back. The sense of humor was gone. Balance, memory, physical ability-gone.
So we took a breath.
A deep one.

During this deep breath, a battle begun as parents.

2018 dreams were pushed to the back burner, as I tried to navigate my first year as a full time employee doing the job I always wanted while grieving a loss, helping my husband recover, and sharing restless nights over the hard parenting decisions that haunt us all.

I think we too often get in the habit of wanting to smear "positive vibes, positive life" all over our hurt that we never allow ourselves to feel it, never let others see that it's okay to not be okay.

Friend, it is okay to mourn. It is okay to admit that you didn't have a hard week, or a hard month, but a hard year all around. When did bravery switch from going into battle to pretending wars no longer exist? You will have battles. You will go to war for your kids. You will have tragedies, accidents, confusion, and your faith may be whittled down to what seems like the smallest seed.
It. is. okay. to. not. be. okay.
Why? Because even still, you will be okay. You will make it. 
I leaned back in my chair after chuckling over all of our hard moments and my husband grabbed my hand.

"We are blessed and highly favored, babe." (Leave it to Jarrod to be wise, always)
 Despite the losses, the sleepless nights, the times we questioned our purpose as foster parents, heck-as regular parents, if I was cut out for my job, if he'd ever recover, if this season would turn into a forever winter-

As I've spent time in devotional time, sometimes completely exhausted just thinking about 2019, He renews me. A small whisper makes its way to me each and every day for 2019-

Restoration. 
Restoration.
Restoration.

If you're in the same boat as the Davis family and you've had a tough year, know that no house being completely restored can stay how it was. You have to start with the demolition-the most important step. Get back down to the foundation. Get to the beams and the fixtures, a blank canvas. Look at its rawness, its realness, and sometimes-its ugliness. 

Allow yourself to be torn down, to lay bare, and be restored-rebuilt from the ground up. 


Allow your faith to be whittled down to the size of a mustard seed-isn't that all you really need? 

So You Want To Be A Foster Parent?

This blog is for individuals seriously debating foster parenting for their family. For many, the idea of foster parenting is picturesque and oftentimes appears appealing.
As a foster parent, I try to share both the good and bad of our journey, because that's what it is. Many times, foster parents cannot share much detail due to protection of the children in their care.

This protection is needed, but it often leaves potential foster parents unsure and unaware of what foster parenting really looks like and what it will change for their lives/family.

I've made a list of things potential foster parents may normally not consider before making the leap, because friends, it is a journey that is worth it and one that must be traveled to those called to it, but listen-
if you are not truly called to be a foster parent, it could wreck you if you do it anyway.
It is grueling and it will turn your life upside down.
If foster parenting is for you, you will weather this darkness because it is your calling, your destiny and you might just change a kid's life.

Here it goes:

1. Nothing is private. 

Nope. Nothing. You can't just raise your hand and become a foster parent. You go through extensive training and checks before they say, "okay, you're fit for this." Everything you've done, what your parents have done, history, employment, debt, all finances, what have you-it's all there, laid out and bare for the system to assess. We went through hours of home visits, each of us just sitting and spilling out our entire history, our relationships with one another and also family, etc. to a stranger.

Aside from the process to get approved, once you have a new child in your home-your privacy will diminish. I think many people assume the child will be just like theirs, which are moderately uninterested in you to be honest. No-you will come home to bedroom drawers gone through, papers shuffled, out of curiosity, and understandably. They will listen outside your door, out of innocence, but your pillow talk is no longer an A-B conversation and you must always be aware of this. J and I often steal time in the car returning movies, etc. so we can have a private conversation. (Also, we may or may not have a secret stash locked away of snacks because sometimes those disappear too! SHHH.)

2. Your schedule is negotiable now. 

Jarrod and I are both type A personalities, so this one is still jarring to us. You will have meetings sprung on you with minutes to spare, sometimes AT YOUR HOUSE. You will be unprepared mentally, emotionally and yeah, those dirty dishes in the sink...throw a towel over them because someone is about to bust up in your house in 5 minutes! This would be hard for anyone, but especially two full-time working parents who rush home to get dinner started, much less pull up in the driveway to a worker already walking up to their door to inspect their life.

You do not only add a child to your schedule, but also every appointment that they will need you to take them to-
FST meetings, house calls, worker visits, therapy sessions, chaffee worker visits, and quarterly visits. If you have other children in the household, they all have their own commitments as well, so make sure you are ready to re-arrange your schedule at any moment. Not flexible? Get ready, darling-you have to be.

3. There will be bad days. 

I know, you're probably rolling your eyes because you know what a bad day is, you have kids, okay? Unfortunately, these bad days, or weeks, aren't the same with the children placed in your home. They have been through some traumatic and unique things, and despite your background, you probably haven't dealt with it exactly like they have. Every child is different. Sometimes you will be able to pinpoint the trigger, but others- you will have no idea. One day you will feel on top of the world, like barriers are broken and the next you're sitting on her bed because she's withdrawn, sobbing, unable to communicate why she's hurting.

Jarrod and I explain making progress in foster care as-one step forward, two steps back, sometimes 36 steps back, depending on the day. 

4. No, it won't make your finances soar. 

Unfortunately, people have this conception that being a foster parent pays an amazing amount of money.
Firstly, if you're doing it for the money, run away, because your heart is not in the right place and you are about to be mightily disappointed, friend. Missouri is next to last in pay, just in case you were wondering. If you ARE in this realm of thinking, though I'd hope not, know that you will most likely end up paying out more than you are receiving. In our case, we don't just have an extra child, we have a teen, which comes with more expenses than you'd imagine until you really sit down to add it all up-food, toiletries, hygiene products (GIRLS!!!!!), clothes, etc. Each time you go to the movies-one more ticket. Each time you decide to go out to eat-one more entree. Not to mention, future car, etc. It adds up, so the system tries to help foster parents as much as they can by giving some money because they know we are going to take a mighty hit to the wallet, but usually, it never ends up being a bonus, especially if the foster parent is providing the care truly needed.

5. You are now at war. 

Foster parenting is not a fairy tale. I want you to know this, as a prospective foster parent, because you need to see the full movie, not just the highlight reel. I care about you and all of the foster kids in the system right now to sugar coat the truth, because these kids deserve permanency in some fashion. Too many people fantasize about foster parenting/adoption, oftentimes glamorizing it, so much to the point that when they get knee deep into it, they bail because it's harder than they expected, leaving a child to bounce around from home to home, their life constantly in a trash bag. 

Your family is now under fire.
Your marriage is now under fire.
You are at war and you must surround yourself with support, a tribe of people who may not understand your foster parent journey, but are there to listen, to step in the ditches with you and dig by your side.

Foster parenting is not for everyone, and you have to realize that that's okay. There is no reason to feel guilt over not taking in foster children, because we all play a special part in this system. Maybe you're meant to just hop in the ditch and help dig beside your friend who is on this journey. Maybe you're meant to just be a prayer partner for foster parents and the children in their care. From the foster parents to the friends who simply text us to say, "hey, update me. I'm here to listen", all are pieces to this puzzle that MUST be put together. We love our ditch diggers, our support system to the max. You keep us going.

6. It's worth it. 

If you and your partner are called to foster (both must be on board for this to work!), this journey is worth it, friend. It is hard, so hard, but man, is it worth it when my kid laughs at the dinner table, or jokes with her brothers, or talks about being a part of our family and I can just see the relief/safety cover her face, a face once covered in uncertainty.

Yes, there are hard truths to foster parenting. Yes, there are hard days to foster parenting. I cannot prepare you fully in one blog for what lies ahead for you on your journey, because it won't look just like mine.

But, there are good days. There are breakthroughs. There are laughter and tears and breaking of walls and tearing down of shame and guilt and discovering of light and hope all at once.

It is terrifying and beautiful and I love this crazy journey with my husband and boys and now I could never imagine my life without our girl.

“Sometimes our work as caregivers is not for the faint of heart. But, you will never know what you are made of until you step into the fire. Step bravely!” ― Deborah A. Beasley

Just Say 'No' To Stuff

no.
no.
no.
No.
NO.
NO!

It's really easy to type, but in reality, it's so hard to say-especially for specific personality types (er, mine).
I know many of you have new year's goals that you're currently working through, some you've probably already tossed to the curb along with your garage treadmill.

See ya, piece of garbage! Back to my Netflix, who loves me back!

Fitness goals are great, but I want to discuss a goal of mine for 2018 that I feel more strongly about than losing those 5 lbs. gained over my mom's apple pie.

Saying 'No'.
To stuff.
To the extras, the non-necessities. 

First, I want you to know that I don't feel we should always say 'No' just because we don't feel like it, or if it will make us just a little more busy-sometimes I believe God asks us to step out and serve others, to help de-clutter someone else's life even though it may complicate ours just a little more. Sometimes we are called to get a little uncomfortable and "inconvenienced" for the sake of others.

However, being a "YES!" person all the time is not healthy for you, your career, your children, or your marriage. Honestly, before this last year, I didn't see myself as a "Yes!" person, I simply saw myself as more hardcore than the average joe (I know, I needed humbled, ok? Back off)-

Hey, I can work multiple jobs and run my own small business and be a step mom and have foster children and serve at my church and bake homemade meals all at once, it's fine, I'm only dying inside and sleeping 5 hours a week, but it's okay, I'm okay! I can see sounds and hear colors! 

This. Is. Stupid. 

Friend, I don't care how young you are, this is a very unhealthy way of thinking/living. Unfortunately, I didn't recognize that just because it's a good opportunity, doesn't mean it's one I should say yes  to. I saw every open door as the right opportunity, as a potentially missed opportunity. 

In actuality, not every door, though what's on the other side may be good, is for you. 

Not every "great opportunity" is meant for you to grasp, maybe for just this season, or maybe ever. 

So, I've made it my 2018 goal to assess every opportunity through the eyes of God and my family in this particular season of life.

If I say yes to this, will it glorify just me or God?

If I say yes to this, how much time will it take away from my family?

Will I be rushing home after one job and rushing to another one in the evening, missing out on dinner table laughter with my children?

Will I be stealing away much needed alone time with my husband?

Is this opportunity only serving me or will it serve my family or others over me? 

What will have to change in my life to make this opportunity happen? 

How will my current priorities shift? 

What will most likely be neglected? 

Is this really my opportunity, or is it just a good offer that should be passed over as not a priority? 

These are filters we "Yes!" sayers in remission should be asking ourselves. Living a successful, but constantly overwhelmed and tiring life is not truly successful, is it?

Are you willing to look better, richer, more successful, like you have it all together on the outside- 

yet all the while feeling completely depleted, like you'll never catch up, do enough, collect enough degrees, certificates, etc. on the inside? 

As you continue on your current resolutions, maybe assess and make new ones, or think about taking away from your life to add to it. 

Can you do it all? Maybe. But who would want to? 

"Just Okay"

"So, how's the foster care thing going?"
"Good." "Okay." "We're making it!"

The facial response to my "okay" is always amusing. What? Just okay? You're living out something you've been dreaming of and it's just okay? 

I know you are concerned. I know you just want to follow our journey. I know how you want to hear that it's never been better and our family has never been more whole or put together.

I wish I could tell what you want to hear, but dreams aren't easy. I wish I could tell you that a blended family is as smooth as a nuclear one. I wish I could tell you that being a foster parent is like being someone's biological parent.

I can't. It's not.
Dreams are hard.
Loving is hard. 

Our family was put into the blender already, and then we've blended it even further. Nobody tells you that when you walk into a blended family, you have to learn to love a child. We want to think that becoming a step-parent or a foster parent is just like having them ourselves. It isn't-it's much, much harder. We didn't bring their life into the world and immediately bond or love these children-

We fought to love them. We chiseled away at chaos, confusion, brokenness, years of lacking and we bled and stretched to love them. I have known this feeling well, as I've been a step mom for nearly five years. For Jarrod, I'm sure fostering is even a little harder than it is for me, as he's always been someone's "real dad". I have spent the last few years navigating the ship of being an "other", the backstage hand. I have known the pain of realizing that you don't step into a child's life and love them the first day, nor vice versa. You will spend time, so much time, so many awkward days, learning and growing to love one another.

Fostering is on the same path, but harder. Not only are you throwing yourself out, totally naked in your vulnerability to love a child you've just met-but someone before you didn't love them properly. My boys have always had parents to love them, to sing over them as they slept soundly, to make them feel safe-TIMES TWO.

My daughter has not had this. Attachment is hard. Relationships are hard. Feeling safe isn't something that comes in a month. Feeling worthy, feeling wanted, feeling like you could get uprooted any day because someone "just didn't feel like dealing" with you anymore-doesn't disappear within a few week's time. The fear is real and it is unfortunately justified.

So, you will not only be fighting to love her, but fighting your way through years of walls, of neglect, of rejection, of all the people who quit on her before you came around. This journey is hard, probably the hardest thing I've ever done. 

Fostering is like mile 20 of a marathon for me. I am tired, I am depleted, I am anxious I won't be able to keep running-
but I always do, because I love it that much. I take it one mile at a time, one stride at a time, and I smile because I know what lies at the end.

I want to be able to erase 15 years of pain, of confusion, of abandonment in one hug, one mother-daughter date. I want her to feel safe so badly that I tell her each day that she is worthy, smart, wanted. I want to make up for lost lullabies, so each time she falls asleep on the drive home (always) I sing over her softly. Picture that one.

Think about a blender when you're throwing in a mix of ingredients. It is LOUD-sometimes you have to turn your head to escape slightly from the sound of it.
My family is in a blender right now, so things are going to be a little messy, a little loud, a little "just okay".

Please pardon our sleepiness, our occasional distant stares, our construction zone-
We're currently fighting for love and we aren't quitters.