Friends, there is such a learning curve with FosterLoving.
We were supposed to have our (just for now) kids until Sunday night. And then it became Monday. And then it was Tuesday.
According to the case worker, the kids needed to return to their home district. We were just supposed to be an emergency home because I work and my husband works and so on Tuesday morning I had to return them because I had to work. I had to work. I couldn’t have kept them even though I wanted to.
That’s what I keep telling myself. I had to be at work at 10. I couldn’t have kept them.
I have reminders of them all over the house.
And so I was to return them to their case worker at 9.
At 8:30 we get into my car and it’s so quiet. The kids aren’t talking. I look in my rear-view mirror and my (just for those final precious moments) daughter is silently sobbing in the back seat. I reach behind and put my hand on her calf. I’m here. Loving for these few final moments.
My (just for those final precious moments) son is staring out the window. Our CD from vacation Bible school is playing on the radio.
I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back, no turning back.
I am reminded of them all over my house. These are rubber bands from the rainbow loom. I have two rubber band bracelets and they are my second most prized possession from their stay here.
Throughout the previous week the kids learned the dances to all the songs on the CD. We listened to the CD in the car and in the house and when the CD wasn’t on they’d hum the tune. They’d sing the lyrics to themselves.
This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.
My (just for those few sacred days) kids had never been to church before. On the night before they left we held hands and prayed. They said they’d never prayed aloud before. Also, they’d never prayed before period. The Pastor Husband asked them what they wanted to ask God for, and my (just for that final night) boy said he had never asked God for anything.
Didn’t know he could ask God for anything.
Didn’t know God would listen.
Oh sweet boy. God hears. God loves. Oh how He loves. I actually think you, my sweet boy, might be His favorite. You are my favorite.
On the last night they were here we made cookies from scratch. They’d never done that before and didn’t know that eating raw cookie dough is a thing. Now they do. And my (just for then) daughter started doodling on this paper. And this is my most prized possession. Happy. Yes, my dear. Me too.
And so that next morning, we drove the 40 minutes to meet the case worker. They were going to be put in a new placement closer to their school district.
And as I hugged them goodbye I prayed, “Please God. Give me the strength to not cry. Let me be strong.”
God didn’t come through for that one. Maybe He thought the kids needed to see someone was so incredibly attached to them even after one week. You, my dear, are so worthy of attachment.
And so the tears came and my (just for those final seconds) son looked me in the eyes and asked, “can’t we just stay with you…?”
I’m so sorry buddy. You have to stay here.
They were going to a new placement that day. They were going to be put in a new home closer to their district. They had to be in their district.
But then that night I got this text.
I’m not in it to make a difference though. I’m in it for a front row seat to the greatest show on earth: watching God heal and revive what once was broken. I’m not an altruistic saint. Heavens no. And you could spend three shakes of a lamb’s tail at my house and hear how short I can be with the Pastor Husband and know. I am just someone who has a strong suspicion that God is real, and one day, maybe tomorrow, maybe many tomorrows from now- He could say, “Well done” or “I never knew you.” So until I get there, I’ll go find Him here on earth. And He will be among the broken and lonely and hopeless. And I will know Him and He will know me.
Emergency shelters. Separated. My (just for those few very sacred days) kids were sleeping alone. Who’s tucking them in? They’re so fragile. They need an adult constantly there nurturing and affirming and actively protecting.
And they were separate. They were alone.
And had I known they’d be alone, I couldn’t have given them back. But I didn’t know that foster parents are so hard to find in the summer. But I know now. This learning curve though.
And it’s true what the Bible says about children. Children are a gift from the Lord. Not biological children, or perfect children, or clean children.
All children.
They are His reward.
I received my reward for opening up my heart and my home. The reward was the children. And there is no greater reward.
Amen, my friend.
There are a few things that have helped so tremendously.
I think about my village. I’m so thankful for my village.
Thank you to all my friends who have checked in, opened their pool, brought toys, bikes, helmets, furniture, and baked cookies. Also, my basement looks like a Scholastic book fair. Thank you to the VBS volunteers who are so patient and kind. Thank you for sharing your own children. Thank you for raising your children in such a way that they stuck by my (just for then) children even when it was hard to play. Your kids are so patient, like you.
It takes a village, and you are mine. You are forever mine.
This one other thing that is a salve for my weary spirit is God.
My (just for then) kids are worth far more than sparrows. Yes, they were so rough around the edges. They were abrupt and could come off as rude. They didn’t know what to say when someone said hello to them.
Because they haven’t been loved well. The only reason why I am here and their mama and daddy are there is because I have been loved well from the moment I was born. My (just for then) kids’ parents maybe didn’t experience the nurturing, affection, and love that I did.
Mom and dad, you have given me the gift of being able to FosterLove. Thank you so much. I can love well because I have been loved so well. That’s the only thing that separates me from their birth parents.
I have been loved well.
They, most likely, have not.
And so tonight I pray. We pray.
God protect my (just for then) kids. May they know they are worth far, far more than sparrows. May they know they can pray to You, and You will hear. May they experience a peace that surpasses all understanding and a healing so miraculous that people will look and say, “yes, that is God. God is moving in our midst.”
I pray for my (just for then) children’s birth parents. May they know your love. May they experience your guidance. May they, too, experience a healing so miraculous that people will look and say, “God is moving again in our midst.”
God, may we who have been loved well love others well. This is our responsibility and privilege. Because a great love has been bestowed upon us, it has also been entrusted to us. It’s not ours for the keeping; it is ours for the giving. May we love so well that others will look and say, “A love so powerful is moving in our midst that God is surely present.”
May we mother the broken so closely that we see the Father so clearly.
Protect my (just for then) children. May they know it will be OK, as surely as I know I will be OK.
Amen, amen, amen my friend.
UPDATE: since I wrote this, the kids have found a placement closer to their school district. They are together and the PH and I are meeting up with them in a few weeks, after they are fully adjusted to their new home.
If you have ever considered learning more about what it means to FosterLove, I can’t encourage you enough. It’s not for everyone, but it’s for more than just the people who are doing it now. There are too many kids and not enough parents. God isn’t surprised by the numbers of kids in care; He knows them each by name. May we show up for this generation, and may we show up on time.
Many of my friends asked, “why wouldn’t the case worker just ask you guys to keep the kids longer if they didn’t have anyone lined up to take them?” And that’s a great question. The deal is, the case workers generally don’t want to inconvenience the foster parents. At least that’s been my experience. They are so overly appreciative that a) we are foster parents and b) we were able to take a placement that they don’t want it to infringe on our work schedules/travel plans etcetera. I guess too that if case workers were routinely asking to extend a placement, foster parents would be extra cautious about taking it. It seems like case workers want to keep foster parents as happy as can be so that we will continue to take placements.