Today's post comes from my friend Lauren Caseper at Traded Dreams. Lauren and her husband John are former foster parents and while their foster story is a difficult one, I'm honored to share her heart with you today.
Our experience with foster care seems like such a whirlwind in retrospect. We applied to our local social services department and then only two months later there came a call from our case worker. With just two hours notice there they were – twin two year old boys sitting in our living room. In the blink of an eye we became parents to two very neglected little boys at the height of toddlerdom. They were with us for three months and then just as quickly as they blew into our lives they blew back out… but never out of our hearts.
The twins were one of life’s greatest surprises, yet greatest blessings. It was a hard transition for everyone. I remember their tears and our tears vividly. I had no idea how to be a mother, let alone to children with such great trauma in their lives. But one thing I did know how to do was love –so that’s where we started and that’s where we remained. In love.
One hug at a time I healed little hurts. Each day started with hugs and kisses. Tears were wiped away, boo-boos were mended, tummies were filled, books were read, dandelions were blown, cars were raced, baths were enjoyed, and there was more play time, giggles, snuggles, wrestling, and outside adventures than they had ever experienced in their lives. The days ended with evening walks, songs sung in their room, prayers prayed, and one last “hud and tiss.”
As the weeks passed by we settled into family life and it seemed they had been there all along. Loving them began to heal some of the broken places inside my heart, and loving them began to heal some of the broken places inside their hearts. The bruises had faded away and the faces were filling out. Cheeks were becoming rosey and the sunken look had left their eyes. There was joy, peace, and always love.
Through a series of grievous errors the boys were ordered to return to their home after only living with us for three months. I sat shocked on the other end of that phone call and I have struggled every day to forgive that judge. We only had a couple hours to pack their little backpacks full of their toys, clothes, and books. Then the social services van pulled up and we wept in the front yard as they took our boys away. We never saw them again.
For a long time I wondered what the point of it all was. My heart felt as if it were literally being ripped from my chest. Their situation wasn’t made better. I knew the place they were returned to and I knew it wasn’t safe. I knew they would be hungry and I knew they were hurting… but here I was with empty arms and completely unable to do anything for them. What on earth was the point of those three months?
Slowly God began to remind me that nothing is wasted. Even if nothing changes in those boys home life they had three months of love. They had three months of learning what it means to be a family. They heard the name of Jesus every single day for three months. They have two people who will carry them in their hearts for all of eternity… two people who will never cease praying for them. Foster care stories don’t always have happy endings… ours didn’t. But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t worth it.
When we buckled the twins into the van that last day he looked up at me with innocent green eyes and said, “Don’t worry mama – Jesus with me when I go bye bye in car.” And he is with them today. I cling to that and the hope of a heavenly reunion. Nothing is wasted. It’s all worth it.
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