This week we got the news we have been dreading and heading towards and praying for for over a year.
The transition. The real transition. The one with a timeline and ticking clock and endless to-do lists. The transition to goodbye.
By the end of the year we will no longer be mommy and daddy to three little ones. Even writing that makes my stomach turn. Not because I think this is a bad move, but because for over a year this is where my identity has been. For over a year we have rocked and shushed and kissed boo-boos and loved with our whole hearts.
And I would do it all over again.
Our whole hearts have been wrapped up in caring and advocating and protecting and teaching. We have seen a terrified little girl find safety. Little boys learn to cry out to Jesus. We’ve been a part of healing and transformation. And been first hand witnesses to the faithfulness of The Good Good Father…and man, is He good.
I love to look at photographs of where we started to be reminded of the faithfulness. I see the fresh faces of parents ready to take on the world through three little babies. Of instagram posts begging for others to lay our requests for rest before the throne of God. Of text messages sent to sisters with tears streaming down my face because I didn’t think I would make it. It’s intense and it’s redeeming. Humbling and hard.
It would be the biggest lie to tell you it’s all beautiful and thankfulness floods out of my heart all the time. Because this year (and this week) has also reminded me that statistically we’ve already lasted in the foster care system than most and it’s a miracle. The system is impossible. The invasion of privacy. The endless advocating. The well-meaning (or not) comments.
Foster care has shattered my heart in all the worst and best ways. And it isn’t over. The next eight weeks might break me. Having to say goodbye will break me. But how amazing that I have a Good Good Father that is holding all of the pieces. I’m trusting in His goodness and resting in his promise.