Foster care is such a tricky thing. I guess I can’t speak for all families, but I can speak for myself. It’s frickin’ hard.
This picture is a good snapshot into the trickiness of it all.
It looks beautiful.
If I had a dollar for every time we have been told that our youngest is adorable, we would be well on our way to making a dent in the student loans that will forever loom over our heads. And it’s not like it’s bad to hear that, I mean she can certainly use all the positive words she can get. It’s just that, there’s a lot of depth to the brokenness that runs much deeper than the intricate braids that Lace weaved into her hair the night before. Like I know she’s beautiful, but also she knows how break down two twenty something adults with a quick glare and a few choices words digging at our deepest insecurities.
Currently I’m overwhelmed with the enormity of emotions in our home. I’m coping by eating a doughnut on the rooftop of an overpriced grocery store. The fact that I had attempted to give up doughnuts for lent and confessed to some friends the other day that I have an unhealthy relationship with food is not lost on me as the sun has now turned to rain on this rooftop oasis. The doughnut, as it turns out, is not helping and is sort of stale. Good Friday indeed.
I’ve faced my own demons in life time and time again, but the journey into foster care has shown me the depth of human brokenness like nothing else. It’s not just that our littlest ones parents are broken, honestly I’m not sure I’m less broken than she is, we are just different kinds of broken. It’s amazing how the choices of a few (all of us in this story) can have such far reaching consequences. A little girl went into care years ago, and all of us in our own ways (bio parents, foster parents (past and present), friends and family, and mostly the little girl with the flowers) will carry it with us all the way into forever.
This Good Friday is such a reminder to me that evil is real and it’s present in systems and hearts and nature itself. And yet, hope is real. It’s more powerful. Even when it seems dark. Hope is all I’ve got. I don’t even know why I’ve got it, but I do. And I’m grateful. So grateful for a hope and a love that wins in the end.