I hear from a lot of different people why they don’t pursue fostering. Most often I hear a version of, “it would break my heart to give them back.” I’ve wrestled with this and I don’t think people are wrong. They are more right than I could’ve imagined.
I can feel my heart breaking most days. During nap times, after the many to-do’s I’ve made, in the quiet moments where I reflect… the what-if’s and unknowns and troubling information wrench my heart and I am constantly breaking.
I can’t share with you our foster child’s name, but I will refer to her as ladybug. We were approved by the state in January on a Tuesday and were called about ladybug that Friday at 5pm. She was at our house that night at 8! Ladybug’s been with us for just over a month, and becoming more and more a part of our lives. She is a beautiful, mild-tempered bug and is a bundle of joy and happy smiles.
Our first week we received a clothing donation from a nearby church, which was awesome! Ladybug came with no clothes, so at that point we were scrambling. As I sorted through the sweet little things, I pulled out a red onesie with a frilly heart that said ‘my first valentine’s day.’
And I couldn’t get it together.
See, we entered her life before her first valentine’s day. We’re the witnesses of that memory. What a bittersweet moment – I mourned ladybug and ladybug’s momma’s loss of not being able to have that memory together. They both were going to miss out and knowing how sweet it is to witness your baby’s firsts, I hated it. But I also tasted the overwhelming goodness of God in His provision for ladybug and allowing me into her story. Thomas and I get to love ladybug and her family through all of these hard moments. And by God’s grace help them heal to new beginnings together.
My heart breaks when I think about sending ladybug home. My heart breaks that this sweet human whom I’ve stayed up long nights with and poured my heart into, may go home and never know me – may never know my love for her – that I want all the best in the world for her.
But I don’t think that should stop me or any of us from loving the least. My father’s heart broke when He gave His only Son so that I might live. Jesus didn’t sit back and apathetically look down from heaven. He stepped in. He allowed Himself to be broken. For me. For any who would believe in Him. So I think it’s okay that my heart breaks too.