The Road to You

I want to hold onto every baby, placed in my home, forever. I want to be everything that I feel they deserve. I want to catch them when they are toddling from learning to walk. I want to tell them every good thing I know about their birth family. I want to give them all the cuddles they deserve. I want to make them laugh. I want to wipe their tears.

But. I only have two hands. I only have my one body. I only have as much energy as a night of sleep (and a coffee) can give me these days. I have four forever kids that I already try to give my all to, and a lot of times fall asleep wondering if I gave enough. I know we aren’t the answer to all our kids problems, but we can be pretty influential. So when I consider “Can I meet the needs of just one more child?” I am not ignoring what I already do. I also, don’t limit God and what He can do. If He clearly says to me, this child is yours forever I will never tell Him he is wrong. More often than not I’ve heard Him tell me, this one is yours for now. Then later at some point He says, “Let go.” I hate the “let go.”

When I think of letting go, the Bible story that comes to mind is Abraham and Isaac. I bet it was hard when God gave Abraham his son Isaac and then some years later said, “Sacrifice him.” Abraham didn’t understand the instruction but he still set off in obedience. Abraham told the people with him, “We (Isaac and I) will be back.” Meaning he either had hope somehow God was going to change his mind on the sacrifice part or that he was in denial of what God had asked. Maybe some of both. I relate to this confusion/denial/hope.

Every time God has asked me to let go of a little one, I get mad. I get mad because truly I’m just super sad. I’m sad they have to lose someone else. Sad that I have to be part of the hurt. Sad, because the goodbye’s really hurt. God keeps giving me more goodbye’s. He walks me through them, but I have grey hair, wrinkles, and real pain with each one. I’m getting stronger. My faith has grown each time I’ve seen the goodbye to have been the best plan all along, but goodbye still hurts so bad.

I became a foster parent because I wanted to ease pain. I wanted to bring comfort. I didn’t know God would also ask me to let go and be part of the losing, hurting, and hard in this world of foster care. With the very first child, I cried out, “Don’t take her I can’t do this.” I was wrong. She did leave, and I survived. I guess, I could have assumed this is now your “gifting” the painful gift of letting go. I didn’t assume that. Yet here I am seven years later realizing this is actually a gift He keeps showing me I am capable of when He tells me I have to let go. Don’t think for one second that letting go ever comes without me first telling Him why He could choose a different path, how if He just ______ I wouldn’t have to let go. I always fight. I always cry. I always admit I’m wrong in the light of clarity only He could give me. I always end up letting go if He says so.

During the waiting for clarity process I will admit there is a very real weightiness. To wonder and beg to know am I to hold on? Am I to let go? What do you want from me with this specific child? The rawness of emotions keeps me very dependent on Him. I find myself wanting to yell, “You better be up to something really good here!!!” I do yell sometimes…some (myself included) might call it praying.

Guess what though? God has always been up to something good. He has never once let me down. And I still HATE the free fall of a let go and let God. I wish I could just feel the wind of relief that I don’t have to fix everything for everyone, but instead I feel scared. Like anyone that’s just been unexpectedly dropped. I want to grab at straws, anything to stop me or slow me down. No matter how many times I have been caught before, something inside me says what if this is the time I crash to the floor?

Despite that feeling, I still continue to go when He says go. Say yes when maybe the world would say it’s a good time to say no. Then, I will continue to let go when He says let go. Because when I let go. He still holds me and the one that I let go of, so we are in fact both still held.

No bird falls without the Father taking note (Matt 10:31). He counts the months until the birth of a deer (Job 39:1). There is no way I’m the only one keeping track of court dates and little one’s who have their futures decided for there.

If you ever have to let go just know you’ll make it. You can survive this pain. You were never meant to be the answer, just part of the solution. If you said yes, if you loved with all you had, if you gave everything you had to give, and in the end it was made apparent that your walk with this child was not going to be forever. You have done your assignment. There will be other assignments. It’s ok to trust God with this child’s outcome and your own. It is ok to let go. Let go of the belief you were ever in control. Let go of how you pictured it would go. Let go of the lie that says if you can’t do forever then you failed.

Maybe say a prayer like this, “Hold me like I hold these little feet God. Hold this baby’s heart. Hold my heart. Hold the birth family-member’s hearts. Hold us all. Call us all to you. Comfort us when the pain is real. I know you are the only one with the power to heal these very real hurts. Thank you for listening when I cry out to you with unbelief in my voice despite all you have done before. Lord help me believe you are up to something really good one more time.”