"Mommy. Guess what? I'm ridding my bike really well."
"That's great! You'll have to show me when.............when you come back."
It
was our weekly phone call to our kiddos parents. A weekly event that
breaks my heart into a million pieces (so much so that I typically let
Tony handle it). I heard the catch in her voice. The reality was
hitting her of everything she was missing in her kids lives. And it was
hitting her
hard.
A mom with out her kids.
Hearts broken and torn in two. Lives ripped apart. Foster care is not
pretty. As the foster parents we get to stand there and tell these
parents that we are fighting
for them....not
against them.
And it's
hard.
See we get to see the damage that their actions have caused on their
kids. We hear things slip from professionals mouths on a daily bases
that makes us want to do nothing but cry for the reality that was these
children's lives. We get to parent these kids with a deep love and yet
remember in the back of our minds that they aren't ours.
Yet
we fight and pray for these parents....why....because it's our job. It
is what we signed up for. We are here to care for these children and
to ready them to go
back home. And we have to do everything we
can to reassure those parents that we are NOT there to take their
place. It doesn't really matter how painful the reality of that is.
And
maybe.....just maybe.....we will have the chance to share Jesus with
them. Maybe.....just maybe.....we will see not just three children
changed but and ENTIRE family changed. Maybe.....just maybe......this
family will allow God to heal them from the inside out.
