Home Study Confession

It was early 2012, and God would not leave us alone about fostering.  A year later and we finally started the process.

I know there will be joys.  But right now what we have is the not fun part.

Piles of paperwork - and it's only the beginning.

Hours of classes - some helpful, some redundant.

But the light at the end of the tunnel is approaching.  One last hurdle.  It's a big one.  The Home Study.  Oh, the Home Study.  Four and a half hours.  That's a long time to behave like a "normal" family.

We were mostly concerned about our little four-year-old performer, story-teller.  She did fabulous.  Her new best friend is our caseworker.  However, we were so focused on what Motor-Mouth Jr. was going to say that we forgot about Motor-Mouth Sr...

OK, so I did a great job in the joint interview.  Nothing over the top Hannah-ish.  But, Patrick was there to be my anchor.

Then the private interview.  Here's where I was afraid.  No husband sitting next to me. 

Who is going to silently shake their head when I start to share too much?  Or squeeze my hand when I babble on and on?  Or softly kick me when it's time to shut up?  Or give me huge, disbelieving eyes when I cross the line of appropriate adult conversation?

For all my fears, once the individual interview starts, I feel like I am acing it.  I have said nothing embarrassing.  Patrick would be so proud.  Then this question - BAM - out of the blue.

Caseworker:  Do you think there could be something to make your sex life better?

Me:  You mean, like a toy??

Caseworker:  (Embarrassed laughter)  Um...I'm sorry.  No one has ever answered that before.

I have no ability to pass up the possibility of making someone laugh.  Thus is my Home Study confession.  Now we are praying that the caseworker will see past me and still give us a kid or two.

Seriously, though, please be in prayer with us.  In all likelihood, our next child is already alive, but just not in our home yet.