We had dinner with some dear friends tonight. They also happen to be foster parents. Our conversation turned to the children in their home. Their two, sweet kids are in the process of transitioning back to their biological parent's house. It was heart breaking to hear our friends relay their conversations with the oldest sibling. We listened as they talked about trying to explain to him that there will be a day soon when he and his sibling won't come back. They will go for a visit with their biological parent, except this time it will be different. They will stay there in their parent's house and will not come back to the foster home they've known for almost a year. That's a difficult concept for adults to grasp, let alone a small child.
I came home from dinner and all the fear that lies underneath started to bubble up. I do my best to keep it at bay most days, but tonight it got the best of me. I don't want to have that conversation with a sweet child who has been through too much for their young age. I don't want to tell her/him that they aren't coming back to our house anymore.
Why are we doing this? Why are we knowingly walking into something so painful? When I was little, I had several ideas of what I wanted to be when I grew up. Never once did that list of ideas include being a foster mom. Who in their right mind signs up for this? Gentle readers, tonight I am very melancholy and sad. I kind of want to run away. I tried to negotiate my way out of fostering. I suggested to Nick that we just skip this fostering thing and start a family the traditional way.
He said we could have a baby, but that we still have to foster and then I'd be preggo with brand new foster kids in the home. That has "bad idea" written all over it.
Then I offered a "let's quit our jobs and tour around the wold child-free" deal.
He wouldn't budge. He said we couldn't bail.
Then he reminded me what our foster friends said tonight. Nick reminded me why we are doing this. It's not about us. We believe that this work impacts eternity. We will grow to love these children and want the best for them. Despite the broken hearts, loss of sleep, and heart wrenching devastation, it's what we've been called to do. And as much as we will love them, there is a God in heaven who loves these little ones infinitely more and has a bigger plan for their lives.
But it still makes me sad and afraid.
I came home from dinner and all the fear that lies underneath started to bubble up. I do my best to keep it at bay most days, but tonight it got the best of me. I don't want to have that conversation with a sweet child who has been through too much for their young age. I don't want to tell her/him that they aren't coming back to our house anymore.
Why are we doing this? Why are we knowingly walking into something so painful? When I was little, I had several ideas of what I wanted to be when I grew up. Never once did that list of ideas include being a foster mom. Who in their right mind signs up for this? Gentle readers, tonight I am very melancholy and sad. I kind of want to run away. I tried to negotiate my way out of fostering. I suggested to Nick that we just skip this fostering thing and start a family the traditional way.
He said we could have a baby, but that we still have to foster and then I'd be preggo with brand new foster kids in the home. That has "bad idea" written all over it.
Then I offered a "let's quit our jobs and tour around the wold child-free" deal.
He wouldn't budge. He said we couldn't bail.
Then he reminded me what our foster friends said tonight. Nick reminded me why we are doing this. It's not about us. We believe that this work impacts eternity. We will grow to love these children and want the best for them. Despite the broken hearts, loss of sleep, and heart wrenching devastation, it's what we've been called to do. And as much as we will love them, there is a God in heaven who loves these little ones infinitely more and has a bigger plan for their lives.
But it still makes me sad and afraid.