Two months in to our journey of foster-parenting and I’m trying to fully grasp this new understanding of how deeply our Father loves us. After a decade of caring for our adopted son, loving another family’s child is not new to us. Yet foster parenting opens places in our hearts we didn’t know existed.
Late one night during the first week of caring for this sweet boy, that still, small voice filled my heart as I held him in my arms rocking and praying. It whispered:
“HE’S NOT YOURS, BUT YOU ARE HIS.”
When I tell people he won’t stay in our home forever, I remember… he’s not mine. When I think of how he will always be in my heart, I realize… I am his.
When I drop him off for a visit and see how much he resembles biological family members, I remember… he’s not mine. When he cries until he’s back in my arms, I realize…I am his.
When I think of how quickly he may forget the time spent with our family, I remember…he’s not mine. When I see the way he looks for me with that quivering bottom lip, I realize…I am his.
When we rearrange our schedule at the last minute, again, so we can take him to another appointment, I remember… he’s not mine. When I hold him for hours in the rocking chair because he won’t sleep anywhere else after a rough day, I realize…I am his.
The first time I heard that still small voice whisper, “He’s not yours, but you are his, ” the double meaning stirred in my heart: You are His.
To other foster parents: thank you for saying yes, thank you for loving well. You’re doing a great job; keep going. Please remember that you too are HIS.
When no one else sees you wake up for the third time at night, remember: our God sees you…You are His.
When you eat lunch in the car at 3 pm on your way to another appointment, remember: He cares for you…You are His.
When you feel alone in that hospital room while the rest of your kids are tucked in their beds at home, He sees your tears:…You are His.
When she takes a nap and all you want to do is close your eyes for five minutes, but instead, you return missed phone calls from your caseworker and respond to emails confirming next week’s appointments: He strengthens you…You are His.
When you throw a birthday party celebrating a child who may not be with you to blow out their candles next year: it’s worth it…You are His.
When you cancel a vacation because the court denies travel approval: don’t be discouraged…You are His.
When you spend more time with doctors, therapists, dietitians, and speech pathologists than you do with your friends: He sees your sacrifice…You are His.
When you find yourself praying for your child’s biological parents as much as you pray for your closest friends: keep praying and remember… You are His. And they are too.
When people ask how you can love a child so deeply who is “not yours”, tell them it’s because: You are His.