Language is a funny thing. And funnier when you have two Myers-Brigs certified feelers who are also professional communicators.
Yes we over-analyze everything we say. And then debate it with each other.
So in talking about foster care, for a long time it was hard to say much. This was new territory. To us and to nearly all of our friends and family.
There were lots of good questions. And some awkward ones. We did our best to answer thoughtfully.
But where I tripped up without fail was when folks used that one word. Called.
It was nearly always used with confidence, assuming we had that same confidence. A confidence of our being “called” to foster care.
But we weren’t confident. We were all the emotions except confident.
We had two extra bedrooms and knew there were 400,000 kids who needed a bedroom. The math seemed good.
We were Christians who felt lost and confused by much of the Bible, but grasped the clear language of James 1:27, stating that true religion was caring for orphans and widows. That seemed like something we should and could get behind.
But called? We hadn’t had illuminating dreams or been passionate about foster care for years. We hadn’t even known anything about foster care for more than a year.
We felt perfectly logical and wildly uncertain in a way that didn’t fit the word “called.”
Since actually becoming foster parents, I’m still apprehensive. Does “called” make you awesome at it? That might not be us. We made mistakes and the whole thing hurt a lot. But I’m glad we did it. And I think we did a good thing. And we’re preparing to do it again.
So maybe we are called? Or nobody is called? Or we are all called?