sincere thoughts
Foster parenting is not for wimps. Especially being a single-full-time-working-going-to-school-type foster parent. When I signed up I said I'll take one teenage girl at a time. But what they gave me was a little girl who needed a place, pronto. I was terrified in a way. This small being required much more hands on than what I expected to give, but I faced this challenge with all that I am. I just gave my best. And beyond my own abilities, I felt God's love pour through me in moments that required more than I could give.
In being a foster parent, you deal with natural kid stuff like their physical needs, but there is another dynamic going on that the foster parent has to address...what you ask? A constant tone of grief and loss. These little hearts ache for familiarity and family. Everything good you’re able to encounter with them is veiled with a thin layer of sadness. As someone who deals with deep emotions, this veil is something I understand well. As no parent can dance and entertain constantly, every evening as the house got quiet, and we settled in towards bedtime, the tears started... I found myself having to hold and reassure her. You see, to let someone into my home means letting them into my world. I am what you see. No pretense. So when this little one came in, I welcomed her into my home and heart. For a season I knew she would be in my care, and I would be the one to meet her where she was at...me and Jesus. So there was no backing down, no walking away. This child needed security and I stepped up to give it. After only a short time something very unexpected happened. The child was removed due to unforeseen circumstances. In my heart I was happy for her but I also felt great sadness. My heart broke a bit that day. Like a flash of lightening she was here, then gone. Now my house is returned to its plain color pallet, no splash of hot pink little girl stuff to set off my dining room. There is no sound of the Barbie Superhero movie playing in the background. There are no toys around the bathtub. There is no one to read to at night, or wake up in the morning. There is no one to care for or think about here. For a brief time I was able to know what it is like to care for a child; to exercise my God-given abilities as a mom. I was able to see another's needs before my own. I didn't love it at first, but I came to feel like this was what God intended all along. I know now that caring for another above myself is God-kind-of-love. I know, I know, yes, I actually signed up for this life. I know I said I could handle it. I know this is just a part of fostering children. But it sucks. I'm not gonna sugar coat it. It really sucks. I find myself dealing with feelings of grief and loss. This title, foster parent, is much more than just a parent. It is a constant dealing with strong loss emotions; first with the child, then with oneself. What sort of drugs was I on when I thought THIS would be a good idea? Oh ya, I remember. It was that deep down feeling like I could make a difference in a kid's life by offering them a safe landing in a turbulent storm. It was God calling me, by name, saying “Kate, take care of my children; show them MY LOVE”. I have a cross hanging on my wall that I look to when I don't like what is happening in my life. This morning I looked at it and told God, “I don't like this. It hurts.” He spoke loving words to me. He reminded me that He is with me. He loves me. He is my comfort, and my strength. And my mom’s words echoed in my head: “You are stronger than you think you are.” The ache of loss doesn’t disappear instantly; it takes time for us all to process through it. I figure between knowing she is safe, and believing in the support of my Heavenly Daddy and my incredible mom, I can make it through this; even this thing called foster parenting…
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August 2018
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