The Still, Small Quiet Voice of God

I heard the still, small, quiet voice of God the other night and it sounded remarkably like my friend Kay.  Kay is a foster adoptive bio Mom, a well respected author and public speaker and is part of the Mountain Top Moms foster adoptive/support group I attend.  Our monthly dinner meeting was breaking up the other night when someone suggested she write her next book about Foster Parent Support Groups.   She was standing by the table, getting ready to leave, and with one hand tucking her hair behind her ear, smiled and said so quietly and sweetly, "Oh, but it's not my story to tell".

I thought about what she said as I was getting ready for bed on Wednesday and thought about it a few times yesterday and woke up thinking about it today.

Maybe a week prior I had shared my blog address with Kay.  This was very hard to do. As you all know,  I keep our identity and location private so I can blog freely about my life.  During this same time I had read of a call for submissions for a publication on foster care. I began sorting through my blog archives looking for several posts that might fit into the publication's listed parameters.  Ones that weren't too awful and that I could, maybe, submit.

I have to tell you both my literary and personal insecurities came out in full battle regalia soon after.   I am, after all, from New Jersey where deeze, dem and doze and youse guys can be considered formal speech. My blog posts couldn't be submitted for publication let alone shared with someone who knew me. Who was I kidding?  Kay is a published author whose successful books cover a wide range of topics.  I look up to Kay and wanted to put my best foot forward in revealing something so personal and private to someone I knew.  What if she read a boring post? Or, worse yet, one where I was cranky and whiny and as miserable as I sometimes portray my kids to be? 

I was uncomfortable being vulnerable to scrutiny and judgement. Rightly so.

I culled a few into some general groupings: humor, foster/adoption, challenging behaviors, etc. and , and sent an email off to Kay highlighting what I felt were some posts I'd not mind her reading and ones I would select from to send off to this publisher.

I came to the blog world struggling in parenting a child with RAD in a preadoptive placement in our home.  I felt at times like I was living in the Twilight Zone, that I was very alone. Here in the blogosphere I discovered there are MANY (far too many) moms who deal with parenting traumatised kids in a crazy world similar to mine. It was a blessing.

But, somehow along the way I lost sight of why I came here and what I was seeking.   At times, my blog has morphed into a forum where I do not put my best foot forward, I do not speak lovingly and kindly and with empathy about my children and our day to day interactions. I do not always look for the message in my children's behavior, because all I write about is their messes on the bathroom floor.  Instead of turning to them with love and acceptance,  I whine, I pout I rant and rave and type with a pointed finger.  Instead of looking at their families with compassion I publicly list their shortcomings when I could just as easily list my own. 

I do like to go on and on about imagined indignities and perceived injustices I think have been committed against me and mine...and I just wanted to say that I am very sorry. 

Truly sorry. 

All because the still, small, quiet voice of God reminded me that it is not my story to tell.

So what does this mean?

It means that there are a few posts I'd like to cover up and bury in the backyard compost bin  because I have not always been kind and loving in my words.

Not very kind at all. Certainly not kind and loving like the still, small quiet voice of God I heard the other night.

It means there are other posts I'd like to republish to show others and say "See. I didn't need to say that; that was my own fears and insecurities speaking. It was me not feeling competent as a mom reacting to my child's fear of not feeling lovable ...". Instead of me ranting and raving about the daily drama. 

It means there are funny posts where I could say "look; I got that laugh at another's expense to make myself feel better for just a moment because of my own inadequacies".  I'm not very proud to admit I often go for the laugh to make myself feel better when I should be acting better. That is not moving towards good or God.

It means that some posts should just get tossed  tossed in the Too Much Information file.  It is NOT my story to tell.  I am part of the story, but it is not always my story to tell. What I write is true.  I hide identities and locations. You can't make this stuff up.  But it is not my story to tell. I need some fresh batteries for the TMI - Edit button on my Emote Control.  Yeah,  because sometimes my Emote Control just doesn't work at all.

Ultimately, it means I have discoverd somethings about myself, my writing, my desire for a more therapeutic and less judgemental relationship with my children,  and my search for a deeper relationship with God and with all things good. 

Don't worry. I will still tell the story - but will  to spare you the dirty details.  I will still tell the truth , but be more compassionate in the telling.

I will better try to sort through my day when I tell my experiences, and make it my story, because, really, that's the only story I can tell.