Tag: foster parenting

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child {letter #5}

Dear Foster Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

It is winter where you live.  With the snow comes playful days of building snowmen, frolicking in the wonder of it, and warming up with a warm cup of hot cocoa.

IMG_0645These moments…these times…are ones that will forever be written on your heart.

These moments are passing by too quickly.

As the winter turns to spring, and the spring turns towards summer, you know the clock is ticking.  You know that next winter the child you are tucking into bed tonight may not be with you.  Still yet, you embrace each moment as if they could last forever.

In many ways, Momma of a Stranger’s Child, these moments last forever.  Memories are not seasonal.  They do not melt away with the warming of the sun. They do not stop growing.  Even though the seasons change, memories remain.

Dear Foster Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

Although you are carrying the weight of the child’s life in your hands, the child you are caring for is experiencing a life of magical moments.  With each snowflake that falls, the child’s eyes are opened to laughter, joy, and the things that matter so deeply to children.

Freedom from abuse, the warmth of embraces, and the wonderment of what life can be are all experiences that you, Foster Momma, have given.

The seasons tend to relay a message to us.  They remind us that change is always around, and that as much as we try to predict the future, we often wake up to a changing of our circumstances.

Dear Foster Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

As you watch through the window while the stranger’s child is playing in the snow, you think about how simple life should be for children.  Childhood should be made up of days that humor, shape, and build up children.

Yet, you know there are too many children who never seem to escape the seasons of neglect, invisibility, and strife.

As the little one comes running to the door, shakes off the snow, and awaits your welcome, you do what you always do.  You smile, ask about how fun it was, and then wrap a layer of warmth around him or her, just like you have done since the moment this stranger’s child entered your home.

Dear Foster Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

As winter melts away, and time goes by, the day is drawing near to when the child you cherish may not be with you.  You want so desperately to freeze these moments in time, to slow down the clock, and for this season of your lives to stay.

Still yet, you also know that the seeds of hope you have planted will sprout despite the changing of seasons.  Because of this, you embrace these days.  You work even harder at providing memories of goodness in the child’s life.

As the winter turns to spring, and the spring turns towards summer, you know the clock is ticking.

Yet, you know that memories remain, and this season of your lives will be remembered not by a ticking clock, but by love.

the blog post I never had to write

Recently, I read and cried over a blog post by a foster mom who ran into the boys she fostered several years ago.  Time went by, and the boys failed to recognize her, but something instinctual in her knew that the boys she saw in a store were the precious two-year-old twins she once held in the deep hours of the night.

My heart felt heavy for her while reading.  The post quickly brought me back to the first time we stepped into the world of fostering a child who really was not our’s.  Our son, then a newborn, was on borrowed time in our hearts and lives.  He was just an innocent babe, yet caught up in the downfall of poor choices and a legal system.

With every milestone he made, I felt joy, yet strife because I knew the time was drawing near when some very hard decisions were going to be made by the professional team.  I remember thinking that if he did indeed leave our home to go with a family member or reunite with his birth parents, then I would try my best to find out where he lived throughout his life so that I could watch him play in the front yard.  I would forever love and wonder about the little one that captured my heart. 

The thoughts of losing him totally collided with that part of my being that has always rooted for the underdog.

I wanted his birth family to succeed, yet I didn’t.  

Is that even fair?  Is that even right?  Confusion.

I have spoken with many Christian foster parents who struggle with this.  On the one hand, they completely and wholeheartedly desire to raise the child who meandered his or her way into their lives.  On the other, they also want the birth parents to get clean, get their lives together, and live a good life.  Praying for success of birth families, while also recognizing our own selfish desires, is a struggle.

I remember saying to God, “I know You know that I am in love with this child.  I know that You know my heart is forever changed by the gift of loving him.  God, I do not want his birth mother to fail.  I just want things to be abundantly clear, and for You to intervene when necessary.”

The blog post I never had to write is one about grief and loss.  Each child that entered our home stayed.  They stayed.  Somehow, in the miraculous answering of prayer and the desperate tragedy of someone else’s loss, our children became “our’s”.

Forever.

Instead, the blog posts I have written embrace the fact that our experience as foster parents resulted in lifelong parenting.  Our experience ended with glorious days when the Judge’s gavel fell, and the children we stayed up late nights with, held while crying, disciplined, and celebrated milestones with, were declared to be our children.  We are now several years out from our foster parenting journey, and yet, it still kind of feels like it all happened yesterday.

Know this.  Foster parenting changes you.  Long after the meetings are over, the court hearings are no more, the visits cease, and the children either stay or go, being a foster parent leaves an imprint.

It stamps your heart with knowledge that if you grew up in a safe home with loving parents, then you are truly blessed.  

It reveals to you that if somehow, despite your choices, you walked into adulthood without addiction, then you are truly blessed.  

It humbles you to realize that the battles you face are minimal compared to the wars some are battling, and for that, you are truly blessed.

The blog post I never had to write is one that I will carry with me through the years. I never had to let go and wonder what happened to the babes to which I loved.

 For this, I thank God.  For this, I am truly blessed.

 

Happy Eighth Birthday, Baby

Today is my oldest son’s eighth birthday. Tomorrow, we will celebrate with a gaggle of hyper boys, cake, presents, and fun. Today, though, we spent time as a family.

On each of my children’s birthdays, I always escape back to where I was when they took their first breath of Earthly air.8thbday

For two of my kiddos, I had no idea they were even born into the world until those fateful calls from social workers. I did not meet my son until two days after he was born. I met my daughter about seven weeks after her birth. I knew of the birth of my little one, but I was not present for it.

Do you want to know something? While I have had moments when I wished that I was there to hold them the minute they entered this world, I do not regret our experience. It was an arduous path filled with sorrow, and marked with lots of waiting, praying, and clinging on to that space filled with hope, but it is one that I would walk again if I had to.

Being foster and adoptive parents completed us. It made us so incredibly aware of our own faults, our blessings, our trials in life, and just how rich our lives actually are.

I would not trade our experience for anything in the world.

Today is my son’s eighth birthday. Today, I thought of his birth mother. I thought of the moment I first saw him. I thought of years that have come and gone, and I thought of the years ahead.

I love my son. I love him with every single ounce of my existence. I love him despite my own flaws, his quirks, and our faults left somewhere in between.

8th selfie
Happy Eighth Birthday, Baby. You are such a gift to our lives. You have colored our world with more than we could ever ask for. You are an incredible God-given treasure.

We love you forever.

Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him.  -Psalm 127:3

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child {letter #3}

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

You see the looks. You hear the whispers. You watch as others watch you with a bit of a snarling glare. You wonder what they are thinking. The child you are caring for is struggling to maintain any sense of control over his body, actions, and emotions…all while you are frantically trying to get the much-needed groceries bought.

You are on a rush to beat the clock – one kid to be picked up, the other dropped off, one has an appointment, and the baby desperately needs a nap. Yet, here in the middle of the bread aisle is a little soul melting down before your eyes, and in front of a multitude of strangers who do not understand.

You hear someone whisper, “If that were my child, I would….”  Another person kindly suggests, “Spare the rod, spoil the child.”  You keep your calm. You maintain control, and yet, you desperately want to scream out loud, “If you only knew!  I’m picking up the pieces of this broken vessel in front of you!  I’m a foster parent!!”

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

You know it is more than about sparing the rod. You are the carrier of the dark history of the child to whom has made his way to your home. The child in front of you does not need another set of adults disregarding him. The last parents he had rarely used gentle hands when reaching out, a curious and loving ear when listening, or a soft place for the child to land when disappoints came.

The child you are loving on has swallowed a lifetime of grief through the years, and sometimes, it has to come out. It comes out like the ferocious roar of a lion at times. Other times, it comes out in the longing wails of agony that should never come from a child’s soul.

And then, it does not come out at all.

Before you, sits the silence of years long gone. This is probably the part that concerns you. You can handle rage. You can comfort agony, but it is the silence that unsettles you the most. You desperately want to unlock that cage, and let the pain out. You know what could happen if the pain continues to fester deep down.

Still, there you are,

Calm,

Steady,

Cleaning up the mess,

Being that soft place,

Listening with a loving ear, and waiting…

Waiting….waiting for a breakthrough….waiting for a sign that suggests the wounds are being exposed, unplugged, cleansed, and maybe…just maybe, closed.

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

You pray over the children in your care, and for God to be in the midst of important decisions. You petition for Divine intervention. You cry out to the Lord for healing….healing of the children in your care, restoration of their birth families, and mending of your own heart that has been afflicted through the years by this war you are fighting.

Deep down, you know that healing is a spiritual battle. It starts from within. You trust that mending comes from the Giver of Life, the Keeper of Promises, and the One who conquered your own battles. You work to be His hands and feet, but you know your limitations are bound to this Earth. So…you lay it all in His hands, and wait.

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

Stand tall. Put on His armor when faced with the assuming looks of people who choose to judge instead of help. Take deep breaths. Pray with each pore of your being.

Be the constant tower of strength you set out to be.

Take care of yourself. Seek out other warriors who understand the battles you face. Lay your burdens down, and…

Stay calm.

Be steady.

Continue cleaning up the mess.

Remain that soft place.

Lovingly listen.

And, wait….

Wait with expectation, enthusiasm, and hope that comes from the Lord.

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

The next time you overhear someone question your parenting, comment about the children in your care, or glare, remember, it is not in the opinions of others that your worth is found.

The value of the work you do in helping to restore children is not found in the judgmental looks of others. It is not dependent on the meltdowns in the bread aisle, the raging roars of anger, the woeful sobs of sadness, or the still silence.

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

The clock is ticking. You know you have very little time to make a difference. Still yet, you get up each day, ready yourself, put on His armor, and forge onward.

You are His hands and feet when others have chosen to walk away.

You are the calm in the midst of what seems like a storm.

You are steady when no one else has been.

You are the mess-cleaner.

You are the soft place to land.

You are the loving ear who listens.

You are the patient prayer warrior who waits.

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

Your work is not in vain. Yes, there are many…too many…wounded souls who need help, but to the children in your home, your work does not go unnoticed.

It is seen in those miraculous, healing small steps towards wholeness that you witness on a daily basis.

It is felt in the long hugs, or better yet, clinging of the children who once stiffened at your touch.

It is heard in the soft giggles that are starting to visit your home each day.

It is declared in the messages of hope and restoration that are spoken from children who once could not visualize a future.

It is witnessed by watching birth parents, who once battled the fog of addiction, seek clarity about life.

And, 

It is felt in the revival of your own heart that just won’t stop trying to fix hurting children, and working to make a difference in this fractured world.

“Anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not only me but also my Father who sent me.” – Mark 9:37

Related Posts:

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child 

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child {letter #2}

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child (Letter #2)

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

You are back there again, aren’t you?  You are back at that place of frustration.  Two steps forward; then, three, maybe even four steps back.  You are tired of being tired.  You are worn out from being worn out, and yet, you get up each day, put on the unseen mask of bravery, and enter the mission field that is within your own home.

Others say to you, “I could never do what you do.”  Sometimes, though, you wonder if what they mean is, “I would never do what you do.”  When you hear these words from others, you are not really sure how to respond.  A part of you feels the compliment; yet, another part of you feels a twinge of anger.  You may even wonder, “Why couldn’t you do what I do?  Why wouldn’t you?”

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child, you are a non-celebrated soldier in a battle not of your own making.

When you started this journey, your lenses were colored with excitement, hope, and joy about the path to which you started on.  Now, after witnessing the distressing, painful, and tragic sickness that is child abuse, your lenses are dusty. You still believe in hope.  You still get excited.  You still have joy when celebrating the small, yet significant, steps that the children and birth parents are making.

Yet, you know that something has changed deep within you.  You know that there is no turning back to the person you once were.  The welfare of children, and the despair within our own backyards, is something that will stick to you for the rest of your days.

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child, you are changing.  Your heart is turning to the things that breaks the heart of God.  

There are times when you wonder if you are really making a difference.  It seems like just when you finish cleaning up one mess, another one pops up.  You look at the beautiful, breathing, living mess in front of you, and you get angry.  You wonder what the little one in front of you would have been like if it had not been for the horror of abuse, the tragedy of neglect, and the pain of being invisible.

Your anger subsides, and you return to the thought that we were all (and maybe still are) beautiful, breathing, living messes.  You remember the days before you became a (Foster) Momma to a Stranger’s Child.  There were times when you took two steps forward, and then, three or four steps back.

There were times when you thought, “I could never do what they do.  I would never do that.”  You thought of the other soldiers and warriors in the battle against child abuse; yet, you may have never seen yourself on the front-line of this war.  You know that your Father in Heaven put your here, but…there are times when you question why He did.

Your faith has been challenged.  Your prayers have been heavier than usual.  Your cries to the Lord are filled with the salt of your tears.  Still though, you return to the belief that your actions may go unnoticed by those around you, but they are never unseen by the same God who created You, and the beautiful, breathing, living mess in front of you.

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child, your faith is being stretched. Sometimes, it hurts.  Sometimes, it feels like He is not there.  Sometimes, you feel closer to Him than you have ever felt.

Just when you begin to wonder if you are really making a difference in this world, or start to question just how significant your role is, or you are grief-stricken time and again by the ashes of despair in front of you, you remember that great things come from the ashes. You know that your Savior chose to walk with those to whom are often ignored.

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

Just when you feel like you cannot continue…

You see more steps taken than ever before.

You feel more brave than you ever have.

You witness the transformation of lives.

You have a breakthrough in challenging behaviors.

Your heart begins to heal.

Your soul recognizes this mission field to which you are called.

You remember that beauty can rise from the most broken pieces of life.

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child, YOU are taking steps.  YOU are brave.  YOU are being transformed.  YOU are making breakthroughs.  YOU are healing.  YOU are a missionary.  And…

YOU are the beauty that is rising from the ashes.

Feisty and Five {Happy Birthday, Daughter}

Daughter, my sweet and feisty daughter, you turned five today.  Do you want to know something?  I always wanted a daughter.  In my vision of a future family (as limited and skeptical as that was at times), I pictured a daughter.  I imagined a little girl who was dainty, a little on the shy side, and a Princess in the making.

photo (54)Do you want to know something else?  You are not dainty, you are mighty.  You are not shy, you are feisty (although you do get embarrassed sometimes), and you once told me, “I am not a Princess” (except when it comes to your Papa).

There is not a single thread of doubt in my soul that you were meant to be my daughter.

My mighty, mysterious, smart, and beautiful daughter, I love you.

You, my girl, are a God-orchestrated, God-created, and God-filling vessel of love. You are a walking miracle.  Your value is worth more than anything, and your life is one of opportunity.

I caught you looking up to the sky one day last spring.  As big and fluffy snowflakes made their way to the ground, you looked up to the Heavens with the biggest smile, as if you and the Lord Himself were agreeing that snow in the springtime is the best thing ever.

Keep looking to the Heavens, my girl.  

Keep looking up with the hope that is found in the gracious love of God.Snow

My hope for you, little one, is that you never forget how deeply cherished you are. We love you so much, but Mommy and Daddy could never love you as deeply as your Father in Heaven does. You are His.  We are just charged with bringing you up in the crazy, mixed-up; yet, incredible world.

My mighty, mysterious, smart, and beautiful daughter, I love you.

Happy 5th Birthday, Daughter.  You are one of the most strong-willed, independent, and outspoken little girls I think I have ever known.  But, do you want to know something?  You are also loving and protective of the ones you love.  You became an instant big sister to a little one that came into our lives suddenly.  Yet, you took it all in stride.

You quickly learned that babies need lots of attention.  They cry a lot, eat a lot, and learn to giggle pretty quickly.  You have thoroughly enjoyed watching him grow, change, and become one with our family.

SisI caught you crying softly one night.  When asked why, you simply and sweetly stated, “I miss him as a baby.”  You were referring to the fact that your new little brother is walking, growing, and getting bigger right in front of your eyes.

You are wonderful big sister.

Simply wonderful.

You are a blessing to the babe who found his way to our home.

You also give away your gifts and items freely to others.  You comfort your big brother when he’s having a bad day.  You check on your Daddy when he’s not feeling so well, and you tell me that I’m beautiful.

My daughter, beauty shines from you when I witness the softness of your touch, the care you give for others, and the simple, yet sweet, acts of generosity.

Five years have gone by so quickly, and yet, I look to many more years of watching you grow into a strong, beautiful woman.  I hope you stay feisty, stay mighty, and stay yourself.  Stay the girl who prefers blue jeans and t-shirts over frilly dresses, or would rather be outside playing “camp out”, digging up bugs, and chasing her big brother around the yard.

I hope you never lose the thought that it is perfectly fine to wear a mask and cape a good majority of places that you go.BatgirlAfter all, the world could use a few superheroes.

You are a mighty, mysterious, smart, and beautiful daughter.  You are a wonderfully made daughter.  

In this month of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for you.  I am thankful for the unique little girl that you are.

Orange

I am thankful that you are feisty, and five.

I am thankful that YOU are my daughter.  

Happy 5th birthday.  Love You, Forever.

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

I talk to you often in the work I do.  I hear you say, “We want to hang in there”, or “We are doing the best we can”, and even, “I don’t know if I am up for this.”  I hear these words through your shaky, weakened voices.  But, what I really hear is you saying, “I don’t want to be another mother who disregards this child”, or “If I could, I would provide this child with every ounce of my being in order to heal him or her.”  I see you, Foster Mom.  I see you loving on that child who has stolen your heart while living in your home.

You are walking in very heavy shoes.  You are feeling as though your efforts are disregarded, don’t matter, don’t work, and will be forgotten about in the fleeting moments of a day.  I’m here to tell you, they are not disregarded. They do matter.  They work, and they will never be forgotten.

Dear (foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child, you are one of the bravest mothers of all.  You’ve ventured into the murky waters of loving a child whose hurts seem like they could go on for an eternity.

You are a broken-hearted warrior.

You hear from others, “You are doing a good thing”, “I could never do what you do”, or “Your faith is bigger than this.”  While you hear these words of comfort and affirmation, your heart is screaming in that silent, lonely place of wondering if you really are doing a good thing, if you really should be doing what you are doing, and if your faith really is bigger than this.  You question where God is in all of the hurts put on children in His world.

You…dear (foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child…long for rest.  You grasp for answers, and you pray for healing.  You get angry.  You wonder why any mother would neglect, be absent, abuse, or completely disregard her child. You wonder why you are left to pick up the pieces.

You want the Lord to step in, heal, and completely restore the broken child in your arms.  You cry and pray for this so often that it feels as though you can no longer find the words, or muster up the tears.

Dear (foster) Momma of a Stranger’s child, you were once a broken child, too.  At one time, you were lost in a world of despair.  You needed to be picked up, cleaned off, and captured by a love so strong that the greatest army could not break it.

You were worth it. You were not forgotten.  You were brought out of the darkness, and into the cleansing light.  

YOU were meant to make a difference in the world.

Dear (foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,  please do not give up.  You are the backbone to so many forgotten children.  You are a living example of an unconditional, incomparable type of love that is a rarity in the world we find ourselves in.

You will get hurt.  You will have many sleepless nights.  You will have some doubts, regrets, and desires for do-overs.  You will be exhausted and you will get angry.  You may even be ignored.

But….

Your Father in Heaven sees your actions.  He sits with you in the midnight hours when the stranger’s child is raging.  He is with you when you walk out of court rooms or meetings still not knowing what the future holds for the child in your care.  He hears your pleas and sings over you in your fretful night’s sleep.

Dear (foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child, do you want to know why you are probably the most important mother in this world?

Perhaps someday, the child you are loving on, praying for, staying up all night with, advocating for, crying over, taking in or letting go, will grow up to be a (foster) Momma (or even a Daddy) of a Stranger’s Child.

Isn’t that worth it all?

Here’s to Adoption

NOVEMBER IS DESIGNATED AS A MONTH OF THANKSGIVING, AND CELEBRATING ADOPTION.  

Last year, I published a new post each day with poems, stories, and information about adoption.  This year, I’d like to focus this month with how adoption has created a greater sense of thankfulness in my life.  I’d like to do so with images of moments in my children’s lives.

Here are some images of my son from his first gymnastics meet last Spring.  He was 6-yrs-old at the time.  This meet was a “practice” one since he was too young to compete in the regular meets.  

Hunter Bailey 36

In December, we start traveling for his competitions, and I can hardly wait to watch him.  I’m so proud of the hard work he puts in, and the determination he has to continue perfecting the sport – all of this at the age of 7.
Hunter Bailey 22

Another thing, that always seems to stir my heart a bit while watching him, is the thought that all of this may not have been possible for him had he not been adopted.  Please do not get me wrong…I know the ideal situation is for children to stay with their birth parents.  Parents should be able and willing to care for them, make wise choices, remain substance free, and provide the stability that every child desires, and deserves.

However, in foster care/adoption situations such as my son’s, the plan to reunify with birth family changed to adoption.  I know in my heart that his birth parents longed to provide him what he needed, and truly wanted to raise their son, but they could not.  I also know that his life would have been tragically different had he remained in the environment to which he was born.
Hunter Bailey 43

I believe that our paths were created to cross with a fierce, all-knowing, and powerful love that comes from a Heavenly Father who doesn’t forget a single child; even when others do.

I am so thankful for this. 
Hunter Bailey 3So, here’s to adoption.  Here’s to the incredible opportunities that exist because of it.  Here’s to the multitude of orphans who have landed in a soft spot called home.  Here’s to the birth parents who choose adoption.  Here’s to the case workers, attorneys, juvenile officials, and judges who work tirelessly for the well-being of children.

Here’s to the families, such as mine and many others I know, who took the biggest leap of faith when they signed on the dotted line to become foster and foster/adoptive parents.  Here’s to the moments, such as the ones shown in this post, that provide parents, grandparents, and children with memories that last a lifetime.  I am so thankful for these.

Hunter Bailey 31And, here’s to the children who wait for families to call their own.  Here’s to their hopes, dreams, and longings to belong, and to have a mom, dad, grandparents, siblings, and just about anyone else who will stay with them – forever.

Here’s to the miraculous, and hope-filled journey that is adoption.

Glimpses of Goodness

“Can I show you something?”, a foster-mother asked as I entered her home to check on the teenager living with her.  “Sure”, I said.  She ran to the kitchen, grabbed a letter, and handed it to me.  “It came in the mail today”, she said in a soft tone and gentle smile.

I unfolded the hand-written letter, and began to read it.  The letter was written by a former foster child who lived in her home for less than one year.  He told her that he had gotten in serious trouble since he left her home, and had to pay for his crime in the local jail.  He told her about his baby girl, and fiance, and how he wanted to be a good father and husband.

He also spoke of the impact she had made on his life in just the short time he was there.  “You showed me what it is like to have a family”, he said.  He then reminded her that he witnessed the devotion she had to her family, and to her faith.  During his time in jail, he thought a lot about his time in her home, and realized that the life he was living was not one that would support his child, his fiance, or his desire to be the man he desperately wanted to be.

He ended his letter by telling her that he was about to get out of jail, and looked forward to being different from when he went in.  As I finished reading it, I looked up with tears and said, “Wow.”  She said, “You never really know what kind of impact you make on someone’s life.”

The memory of this moment was on my heart today after I witnessed my son, age 6, choosing to put his extra change in our family’s “Blessing Jar” instead of keeping it for himself.  You can read about this jar, and why we have it, by clicking on the link:  Blessing Jar.  After he decided his change should go into the jar, he looked up and said, “Why are you smiling?”  I said, “It just made me happy when you made this choice.”

Tonight, I was unfortunately reminded that the choices we make to better someone else’s life are not always supported by those closest to us.  A visit from one of my in-laws revealed this person’s opinion that we do not have support regarding our taking in my infant cousin who was in need of stability and security.  This person’s complete disregard for this child conflicts greatly with the stated faith this person believes in.  It is disappointing, and a little infuriating, but it certainly does not dis-sway us from doing what we felt led to do.

I’m sure that the foster-mother I spoke of earlier was confronted with opposing opinions about her desire to do foster care.  It would not surprise me if people questioned why she wanted to bring in “troubled” children and teenagers.  They may have provided her with multiple reasons why she should not have become a foster parent, and maybe even, distanced themselves from her.  There might have even been moments when she doubted her ability to get through to the toughest of kids.  She probably questioned from time to time if she was making a difference in their lives.  But….that short, sloppy-written, but significant letter came, and it reminded her of the reason she chose to invest in the lives of others.

The Lord gives glimpses of goodness, and reminders that our decision to choose life-affirming and love-giving actions matter.  I’ve seen it when watching my daughter nurture her older brother when he was not feeling well, or when watching the kids interact and love on the baby.  Today, I saw a glimpse of goodness when my son chose to give up his change with the knowledge that it will be used to bless someone else.  It seems the Lord gives us these glimpses in order to encourage us to keep on doing what we feel in our hearts is right to do.  He also gives us these moments to affirm how our choices, whether good or bad, affects others, and can be mimicked by the little ones in our lives.

If you have made a choice to do something that will affect others around you, or if you are being confronted with a situation where it would be easy to think “let someone else handle it”, then I want to encourage you to consider prayerfully and with wisdom what the right thing is for you to do.  Don’t let the blurred vision of others, or self-doubt, stop you from doing what your heart is leading you to do.

Little hands learning to Love
Little hands learning to Love

After all, you wouldn’t want to miss the incredibly humbling, and sweet glimpses of the goodness of life. 

Acts 20:35 – “In everything I showed you that by working hard in this manner, you must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, that He Himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.'” 

1 Peter 4:10-11- As each one has received a special gift, employ it in serving one another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. Whoever speaks, let him speak, as it were, the utterances of God; whoever serves, let him do so as by the strength which God supplies; so that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belongs the glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. 

God in the Midst

The LORD your God is in your midst; he is a warrior who can deliver. He takes great delight in you; he renews you by his love; he shouts for joy over you.     – Zephaniah 3:17

Recently, a foster-mother came into my office, shut the door, sat down, and started weeping over a decision, or lack thereof, regarding her foster child with-whom she has had since the child was a newborn.  This foster-mother has experience with the system and usually “rolls with the punches”, but this time, she was absolutely wiped out emotionally.

With puffy eyes and thick tears, she told me how the upcoming court case was going to be continued and very important decisions; perhaps the most important decisions made throughout the duration of the case, were not going to be made.  “How can they do this?”, she asked.  “What do I tell my family?”  I just listened to her, and tried to encourage her the best way I could at the time.

If the truth were told, sometimes, I really don’t know what the right thing is to say to foster parents who are grieving.  I’ve been there in that place of confusion and grief when fostering my children, but my babies did not leave my home.  They were not reunified and my life was tremendously altered by adoption.  I’ve learned in this field that sometimes the best thing to do is to say very little and just let people speak openly about their lives, situations  sadness, anger, and loss.  Most of the time, the answer or wisdom they are seeking can be found in their own thoughts if they are allowed to process them.

I agree with and understand the federal law that protects the birth parents rights to be reunified with their children. I too would want the opportunity to rectify my life situation so that I could have my children back.  I get that, but, I don’t understand sometimes why court decisions get delayed.  It frustrates me that children linger in the system for seemingly no reason; except that they are not able to reunified with birth family, or they are never adopted by families.  In this foster parent’s situation, the birth parents really have not been involved, and the little one that is so loved really only knows the foster family who has been caring for her every needs.

This side of me that wears skin, this piece of my heart that gets torn apart, the salt in my tears, and this gravity of the weight of the world we live in, wears on me.  It causes me to question where He is when children are being abused and neglected.  It forces me to wonder if He is near the grieving foster parents, afflicted birth parents, and parent-less children.  It challenges me to want to turn away from the field I’m in and wipe myself clean of it, and yet, how can I walk away from this?  How can any of us turn our backs when we live with the knowledge that children are being abused in our own backyards, and around the world?

I know the Lord is in control.  I know He loves these children more than any foster parent, adoptive parent, or birth parent could ever comprehend.  I know all of them really belong to Him, not us.  Our Heavenly Father holds our tears, whispers reassurance, and visually reminds us of His presence through His word, each other, and the wonders of the world.

The foster-mother who shed quiet tears in my office also knows that the Lord she prays to, lives for, and believes in, was sitting next to her when she got the phone call of the news she didn’t want to hear.  He was present with her when she sat in her car crying and wondering what she was going to tell her family.  He walked in with her to my office and listened while she proclaimed her grief.

The belief that causes my heart to feel less burdened by the sadness around is the idea that the God who breathed life into our lungs, is the same God who was present in my office that day a heart-broken woman entered my room.  He is also the same God who will be standing with us all when our lives come to an end.  He knows the end of our stories, for He has already written them.  He has claimed us as His own.

If there is anything we could all do for foster parents, birth parents, and children who are in the child welfare system, it is to reassure them that they are mightily loved by a Father who is present in each moment; each court date, each phone call, each sleepless night, each embrace, each joy, each hour of despair, and every moment they feel they cannot go on.  God is not absent.

God Is In The Midst