We waffled a bit on if we should even do foster care. On a random Sunday, on a random fall day, I got in the car after church and told Kel I felt like it was something we should do. That same day, we inquired with our county and eventually nosed ourselves into the foster care system. I wish I could say that it had been smooth and easy. Maybe it’s better that it’s not. It weeds people out.
Despite the perceived flaws, we did walk away from our training certain that if we were trying to adopt a newborn, foster care wasn’t the route we should be taking. They did a great job of reiterating, over and over again, that babies are rarely (if ever) adopted by their foster parents. We heard story after story of heartbreak – foster parents in the process of adoption only to have a grandparent show up out of nowhere and take custody of the child. Basically they were saying: Don’t get your hopes up, people. This isn’t about you building up your idyllic family. This is hard. This hurts. This never turns out the way you think it will. But these kids need you. Will you let them in? Will you love them? Will you champion efforts to help kids be reunited to their biological families?
We decided to keep moving forward. As Kel and I talked and prayed, our hearts grew excited about the prospect of being a safe home for a small child, even if only for a season. We looked forward to the relationships we might have with biological parents, we looked forward to helping make reunification happen. We knew we didn’t know much, but we were willing to jump in. Our steps were deliberate. Slow, but deliberate.
We began the initial inquiry in October of 2018. We didn’t hear back until right around Thanksgiving (after reaching out a few more times). Our training began in December. There was some paperwork to turn in, fingerprinting, background checks. And then there was quiet. Eventually a third party reached out to complete our home study. A woman came out three different times in May and asked us lots of personal questions – we locked up our chemicals and covered our outlets. On July 12, 2019 – this same woman informed us that our home study was approved by the county.
The silent treatment from the county dragged on, so we began to get the impression that foster care wasn’t going to happen. Everything was turned in, the home study approved…but still nothing. Children, in any capacity, didn’t seem a likely part of our future.
So, I moved on. I had to. I went to California to help my family out. I remember my brother and sister-in-law being very concerned with how this would interrupt our foster care journey. I assured them that it was fine. Given our track record, nothing was likely to happen. You might say I had given up.
No words can explain the shock we felt when we discovered that we were, indeed, certified foster parents… on the same day we were asked to take in a baby. On August 29, 2019, I received a text that would alter life as we knew it. Are you interested in a placement? Oh, by the way, your certification is in the office – dated mid-July.
Maybe you can understand why we were so humbled and blown away by the amount of support we received from our community, our friends, and our family to help us prepare for the arrival of a tiny newborn in the matter of a few hours. We literally had nothing and knew nothing.
I’ll never forget the frantic calls to my mom and sister-in-law: Hey, we just got asked to take a baby… yes, somehow we’re certified. What if I don’t come back to California in two days- how bad would that be? Or the texts to my neighbors who had baby girls: Hi, um, do you have any tiny newborn clothes or baby things we could use… immediately? We don’t even know what we need, but if you think we need it- we probably do.
I’ll never forget the mad dash to Target – attempting to pick out the best diapers, formula, wipes and carseat without any prior research. We waited near the check-out with a full cart… waiting for the text that said – yes, come get this baby girl. We wrestled with our newly purchased carseat in the parking lot, too stubborn to read directions, too anxious to process what was happening. We may have exchanged sharp words as a result (I can’t really remember that part…).
When we accepted her placement that morning, there was little hope of this being a forever home. Because, adopting a newborn from foster care rarely happens. If I knew anything, it was that. But, from those first conversations with case workers, adoption had always seemed plausible. “You all are a concurrent home, right?” [That basically means when we signed up for foster care, we had also chosen the path of possibly taking a child in forever, in case reunification wasn’t an option. In those instances, it helps limit the transition a child has to go through and provides them with some continuity.]
It’s been exactly one year since we picked Baby K up from the county office (which feels a bit unbelievable to me!). As the months have passed, we have waited… and waited… and waited. There have been shifts in her case that have felt momentous, but they only lead to more waiting.
Sometimes it’s hard to hope. But it’s just as hard to imagine her being anywhere else. And while I have often wondered what it’s “supposed” to feel like to be a mom, I know that I am hers. In my darkest moments, I find myself in the cage of worst-case-scenarios – trapped by the certainty that we will be in this sort of purgatory forever. The assurances from lawyers and case workers can often feel empty.
Because this is what I signed up for. A safe place for a child, for a season. No guarantee of permanence. No promise of forever.
But then you’re given a 5-pound baby and you keep her alive. Over time, she changes you. You get introduce her to the world. You celebrate her victories as she proudly learns to roll over, crawl, stand up on her own, take her first steps, and scream “da-da!”. She reaches out for you when she cries, she holds you tighter in a room full of strangers. You put her to bed, night after night – yours is the last voice she hears each day, and the first each morning.
You are her parents – the only ones she has ever known. You are the ones teaching her about life.
You love her – more than you ever thought possible.
And yet, you still might be asked to let her go.
Let her come in. Then let her go.
To be faithful with what we are given each day. In this case, the sweetest and craziest of babies.
The most selfish parts of my heart hope I don’t have to know that pain, but it’s a reality I do not control.
Regardless of the outcome, I will never regret following the gentle urging that spiraled us into the foster care system. I will never regret saying yes. I will never regret the waiting. Because, ultimately, even the waiting means more time with her. More precious time… time that should not be wasted.
And as I reflect on the last year of becoming instant parents, I can only plead with you: Follow the promptings, friends. The small voice that pleads with you to love and know God more…and to love and know His people.
No matter how crazy. No matter how scary. No matter how much it MAY hurt. No matter how inconvenient. No matter how much it may cost you. No matter how imperfect the system. I think you’ll be surprised by what (and who) you will find when you pay heed.
Simple obedience can sometimes lead to the greatest of blessings. Whether it’s a woman who stays for a few weeks, or a baby who stays for a year (hopefully more)… a random conversation with a random stranger, a small act of kindness that feels out of the blue to the most unlikely of humans. Faithful walking. It is our calling.
These are the moments that change us. The moments that reflect Jesus to those around us. Moments of great sacrifice, generosity, selflessness… as we learn to get over ourselves, our needs, our privacy, our desires… and walk more faithfully.
Mishpat [a Hebrew word for justice in the Old Testament], then, is giving people what they are due, whether punishment or protection or care… God loves and defends those with the least economic and social power, and so should we. This is what it means to ‘do justice’.
Tim Keller, Generous Justice
Disclaimer: I can’t possibly know what is needed or even supposed to happen on county side of things in the foster care system. I can’t possibly know the amount of work or time or frustration that county workers experience on the day-to-day (especially as they deal with impatient people like me). All I am writing about is our side of the exchange and how it impacted us. My goal is not to bash the foster care system or any individuals we have worked with-I know we don’t know what it’s like on their side of it and the challenges they are up against. I am ultimately so thankful for it/them!
