Letting Go...

Yesterday, the boys and I traveled a couple of hours to see our 3 foster kids for possibly the last time. In several days they will be leaving their relative-placement to return to their mom. I normally don't write much about our foster kids to protect their confidentiality. But they are such a major part of my life and thoughts and "willing hearts" experience that I feel like I have to write something.

It is hard to say good-bye to kids who have shared our lives. We've changed their diapers, caught them after their first step, nursed them through serious illnesses, held their hand on the first day of school, attended parent-teacher conferences, all those things that parents remember about their kids. The difference is that we'll never be able to tell them about those experiences. They will return to the mother that gave them life, and we truly hope for the best. But they will have holes in their memories of childhood because all those experiences and memories will remain with us.

These particular kids were our longest placement. We took them on an emergency placement, agreeing to take the baby the day before they came. One of the girls and I spent over a year going to speech therapy, trying to help her become understandable. The youngest and I spent an evening in our urgent care pediatric clinic getting stitches in his chin. His are still the only stitches I have experienced with any of my kids. As I held him for the last time, my heart broke. I was really going to walk away from my baby! He really thought Chris and I were his parents. And in many ways, he really did feel like our son. As we prepared for them to leave us in July, Chris said, "it feels like he's the only one who didn't get the memo - that we aren't his parents". You can't explain moving to a new family to a 23 month-old. At least not when he's been with you so long he doesn't remember coming to your house.

I pulled myself together because in foster parenting we put on a cheerful smile so kids feel safe, even though we all know that things aren't okay. It always feels dishonest, like I'm invalidating the emotions screaming in everyone's hearts, but what else can we do? It doesn't help to tell kids what we really think, because they need some hope that things will be okay.

The look in the oldest's eyes hurt me so much. This is the one child in all our years who directly asked us to adopt her. My heart hurts for this bright, talented, wise girl who feels lost in this confusing world. I pray for God to surround her with people she can cling to when she needs them. I worry about all the kids, but my heart aches for her as I say good-bye. She is so brave in the face of so much she doesn't understand.

I am trying to believe that God's plan for these kids, "my" kids, is to return to their mom. The alternative is that our children's division didn't do what they needed to do, when they should have done it, and all of us, especially these 3, have been hurt because of it.

Today I am trying to release these precious kids to God's care. He will be the only one to remain in their lives. The 4 families that have sheltered them over the last 16 months, will lose track of them and move on. The kids will need their perfect Father as they try to figure out their family.

Our placement before these kids was a little girl that came to us at 9 months old. She also was our baby. Her mom worked hard on her recovery, and we worked to build a positive, supportive relationship with her. This little girl the 3 of us shared was a confident toddler when Chris and I took her to her mom and said good-bye for the last time. It felt so great to be able to facilitate her move. No workers, just the 3 parents who had shared this girl's life. It felt so good to feel like a link in a successful chain to get this kid where she needed to be. 14 months later, I felt like I got kicked in the stomach when I got the email that she and her brother (who we had also had) were coming back into foster care. The kids were separated, and our little girl is now doing great and getting adopted by herself. We lost track of her brother and her mom.

So it is with apprehension that we try to give our blessing to our kids' return to their mom. There are so many factors affecting the success of this family, that we can't help but worry. And if the email goes out for them, will any of the families they know be available for them? We can't know, so we can only pray. - For their hearts to stay open to trust and love. For faith to hold onto when people can't be trusted. And for hope to steady them when they can't see very far in front of them.

I am trying to let go, because there really is no other choice.

They will always be part of our family. I hope that God allows us to cross paths again. And once again, to be perfectly honest, foster care stinks.