The Colander

When our family started our journey in foster care, we knew that inevitably, the majority, if not all children that entered our home, would eventually leave. We signed up for that, but I don't think we (Mike and I, nor our family or close friends on this journey) realized the weight or the magnitude of truly saying goodbye to these kids. It goes way beyond what we thought would be the void of them not being in our home. Yes, it hurts to the core to have someone you love leave you, but we've found that it is so much more. 

We've gone from an adorable little boy whose caregivers failed him to two precious sisters that I would have given my life for to another incredibly amazing little lady who needed stability, consistency and things that were bigger than me some days. We poured everything we could into these kids and sometimes, sadly, it felt like it wasn't ever enough. Between caring for these kids and trying to minister to their parents, some days I felt like I was pouring water into a colander.  The water stayed contained for a nanosecond before making a giant mess on my (un-mopped) kitchen floor.

Sure we loved them, but seeing them struggle or suffer, it's heartbreaking. It's not fair. They didn't deserve to start out with so much brokenness around them.  That stuff should be saved for when we're selfish adults who make reckless decisions. This stuff wasn't for innocent babies.

Ultimately when these children left, either to return home or to another relative, we felt the magnitude of their loss in far greater ways than we ever previously, maybe even naively, thought.  When "A" left, we knew he was going to extended family that loved him and wanted him. What could be better than being with your amazing family? After the initial loss of him being in our home, we were repeatedly reassured that he was safe and happy. We did our job as foster parents and he had a great future ahead. He was going to be ok, despite his rough start at life.  Mike and I felt confident that this is what we signed up for. A happy ending. Next.

We had NO idea what was ahead of us.

The next 22 months was a roller coaster. A Texas Giant sized, epic roller coaster. After Baby Sister and Big Sister left and then again after M left over a year later, we were hit with the harsh reality of foster care. Not all stories are happy. Sometimes things go awry, even with the most amazing caseworkers and people who genuinely care about the welfare and future of these kids. We saw that sometimes (it's actually quite often; again, more than we ever thought) it's the justice system that fails these kids and their families. Yes, our hearts were devastated when these kids left. Yes, we avoided being home for days on end just to avoid the emptiness in our house. Yes, we missed them with every breath and every longing day. But let me tell you something that I learned in that moment that will always stick with me.  It was so much more than that. 

It was so much more than my hurt, our hurt. It was greater than my heart being destroyed. It was bigger than me missing their smiles. It was a true concern, worry, doubt, fear for these children that we once knew were safe and happy. There's something about having all of your chicks in the nest with you.  There's something about knowing that despite your areas of fault or deficiency, there's enough grace to cover it. At least most days, if you're leaning on Christ. That's where I learned the most, through the heartache. 

Foster care is a lot like typical, average parenthood. It's hard and some days you're ready to throw in the towel, to pass the baton, because you feel inadequate and maybe even selfish, too. You feel like nothing is going your way. Your pride got in the way. All of a sudden, you knew better than the God who created you and these precious kids you're to care for and love as His own. Your kids are wild and misbehaving, your house is a wreck and you're tired to the bones. God will humble you like that, won't He? 

He will remind you that your desires and hopes for yourself and for your children are minuscule compared to His plans for each of you. He will give you an earthly understanding that I believe is nothing compared to the reality in His glory.  You will see heartache and doubt here but He will cover that and make you new. Just like the colander in my kitchen, I cannot hold it all.

I can certainly testify to that. God is bigger than my doubts, my fears, my insecurities, even my dreams and of course my failures. Even in my daily heartache, I am reminded that He has gone before me and covered every doubt, fear, question and even my anger with Him. He is God and He is able.