Disclaimer: This post, though sad in nature, is not meant to discourage foster parents or those considering becoming foster parents. It is meant to give a real look into the lives and hearts of foster parents deep in the trenches of difficult days. Therefore, it is raw and unedited. Please withhold judgment and lavish prayers on us and foster parents everywhere also deep in the trenches.
There. I said it. I even wrote it in pencil first instead of one of my colorful flair pens because I want to be able to erase the secret I’ve been carrying in my heart this whole time.
I.love.my.kids. I love the children in my home and my baby girl who doesn’t live here anymore and carries a chunk of my heart everywhere she goes.
The very name is flawed. Foster care system. The word system implies order and that a working plan is in place.
I know this is kind of a weird picture but I totally get those people in the New Testament who thought Messiah was on earth to smash the injustice of the Roman oppression.
Down with Rome!
Down with the foster care system!
My voice is far above the rest of the crowd because this system has failed my children miserably. It has failed thousands of children and I can do nothing.
On a weekly basis I am required to take my son to hell and back. Back through the memories of his terrible past all the while holding his hand and saying
“It’s going to be ok son, I love you.”
I betray his trust in me everytime. I am forced to go back on my promise to keep him safe.
I started this blog to be a blessing. I started writing about foster care to spread the word and encourage others to step up. I’m telling you now.
Yes, I am a foster Mom and I am telling you to run.
Unless you are fully committed to live a life of slavery to the system for the love and good of these kids. This system tells you where to go, who to get along with, who to allow to come into your home, how to spend your time and money, and what kind of danger to put your child in… you become a servant to the system.
Another phone call leaves my legs trembling, heart pounding, palms sweating. It’s your worse nightmare and you are called to live it.
I want to scream, but can only whisper; “Oh God, how is this just?” Toddler boy recently accepted Jesus into his heart. “How can you do this… he is your child now…”
Like Abraham I put the one I love on the altar. Unlike Abraham I scream and kick all the way up the mountain. “Please deliver him God!!” My prayer for him everyday is that he have no memories of this time. That God would erase the struggle, the trauma, the neglect, the hurt, the weakness of his foster parents to do anything about all of it.
Our Pastor preached on weakness last week. I was seething the whole time. I wanted to shout to the pulpit. “Don’t you know how weak I am!?”
Multiple chronic health issues, taking care of my family and home, a job, masters degree studies, foster care.
“I’m already as weak as it gets!”
Two days later I also have a sinus infection.
As I call out to God these are the only words I hear.
… I have told you what is good…what does he require of me… to do justice, love kindness, walk humbly…
God isn’t only putting toddler boy on the altar for toddler boy, he is putting him on the altar to get to me…
Is my heart on the altar?