You’ve heard me say it countless times about our kids: Trauma changes the brain and body. Today I’m reminding you of this same thing for yourself. Acknowledge the trauma you’ve experienced. Recognize the way it affects you. And be vigilant in protecting and promoting your health and healing.
Yeah, of course, there are a million moments of happy. But for me, the real joy—the kind that keeps you going—isn’t found in these small & sweet times. For me, it’s found by zooming out, seeing the big picture, re-focusing on the purpose & re-orienting to the why.
Sometimes foster parents say the system is broken when they actually mean their hearts are broken. They say things didn’t go in the child’s best interest because they think they’re the “better” interest. Personally, I think we need to be careful not to label something as broken when it’s actually operating the way it should.
It’s really hard helping my kids handle something that I don’t know how to handle myself. I have no recipe for my own grief right now beyond trying to let myself feel sad and remembering & trusting God.
Our very existence as God’s people is rooted in the reality of adoption. “Once [we] were not a people, but now [we] are the people of God.” Once we were fatherless, but now—through His adoption of us—we are the children of God.
Love is a feeling. Love is a choice. Love in both forms is found in foster care.
We grieve as those whose grief has purpose. Those whose grief has affected souls and lives and changed histories. We grieve with the joy of relationship and calling and gain. We grieve with hope.
Mama, remember your child—in all of their emotions and needs, history and complexity. And if, in the remembering, like me, you’re overwhelmed by weight of it, aware of how little you can do to “fix it,” unsure what they need...just hold them in your arms and hug ‘em through it.
It’s a flat out lie that God won’t give you more than you can handle. I’m living proof and, well, He never says that anywhere in His Word.
The “what about my kids” question is important, though, because it must be answered. We have to wrestle and conclude—not that foster care is “worth it” despite the effects on our forever kids—but that, ultimately, we trust God for our forever kids.
The thing my kids need the very most is the thing I’m least able to provide. They need to be saved. I can trick myself into thinking I can manufacture these other, smaller changes. But I’m well aware that I can’t change my kids’ hearts, can’t transform their lives, can’t redeem their souls.
I’m not sure what kind of mom I am. But, before and above everything else, I know I’m a forgiven mom.
And I felt it. That I don’t need to try to muster the strength to carry them all through this. That—actually—together, as a family, we’ll carry each other.
Nothing has made me feel weaker than this foster mom life. But I've found great strength in embracing weakness. I'm as strong as a (foster) mother.
We love our children hard, and we are doing our very best. If you have questions, ask. If you’re confused, spend some time & learn. If you’re concerned, pray & love & be there for us. Our children need you, we need you.
When we relinquish control, it’s not to a broken system, not to a flawed decision maker. We relinquish control to God.
If something is worth it—if the people involved are worth it, the God we serve is worth it—then we face it straight on and speak in faith and surrender.
Foster care is about family. It’s about welcoming a child into your family. It’s about—in one way or another—welcoming another family into your family.
