"i could never do it"

  

This is my second post [and I'm sure not my last] about the things I hear almost daily as a foster parent. #1 on that list is "I could never do what you're doing." I understand why most people say it, but I wonder if they do-- if deep down they feel the weight of their words. Hear me-- I'm not judging. I don't do anything perfectly, and I'm an absolute mess of a person, so I'm not judging. I'm just here to offer some perspective, and to ask some hard questions from this side of the table.

Let's not be afraid of the hard, messy, uncomfortable questions. Let's look them in the eyes and try to see what they really reveal. Maybe they reveal the very answers that are quick on our lips... or maybe, when we sit and let them sink right down deep into us, we'll find that they settle on answers that aren't so simple. Let's be brave and see?

Haven't we all experienced loss or heartbreak? 

Has someone you loved died? Have you stood by a grave and felt the hollow place where that someone used to be in your life? Have you sat in a funeral service and cried tears of deep sadness, knowing that you can't call that person anymore and hear even a "hello" on the other end of the line? You can't hug them tight around the neck and inhale in the smell of peppermints, a pipe, perfume, gardening soil, or whatever it was that undoubtedly marked that special person for you. They won't see your children grow up. You have questions you wished you'd asked that will be unanswered this side of Glory. You would give quite a lot to sit with them for just one more coffee, right?

But would you give it all up because the loss is too much? All of the love? Would any of us say that the pain of loss isn't worth the joy of doing life with those we've loved? Give up the things you learned? How that person helped you grow? Would you undo the whole experience if you could, just so that one person could be a stranger to you and your heart wouldn't be scarred by the suffering of their loss?

I hope not. Because there's value in suffering. We like to think that suffering is some unimaginable evil to be avoided at all costs, because happiness is what we're after as Americans... but friends, that's a shame. That's not real living. Love is risky, and sometimes it leaves marks.

Haven't we all said goodbye to a dream or an idea we cherished?

Didn't we all once have a dream that we hoped with all of our hearts would become reality? Maybe you loved someone and thought you'd never part, only to break up and realize it never would have worked. Maybe you wanted to pursue a career only to sacrifice it because it wasn't realistic, or other things took priority. Maybe you'd built a wonderful life for yourself and it fell crumbling into the temporary bits that it was, but in your heart you'd staked forever upon it.

But, did it crush you? Are you still going? Oh, it probably left all kinds of scars and wounds, and maybe you're still healing from those times... but did it undo everything about you? You might have stopped for a time, spent time in mourning that relationship, that dream. Maybe. But you're still here.

There's value in suffering.

Not some "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" kind of pacifying notion, either. But that IN the suffering, in the depths of drippy sorrow, in the wrenching pain of heartbreak we find truth, love, encouragement, perspective, growth, and even comfort that we never would've known without it.

For me, my faith plays a huge part in my view of suffering, sadness, loss, and grief. I think Tim Keller says it wonderfully when he says:

“Christianity teaches that, contra fatalism, suffering is overwhelming; contra Buddhism, suffering is real; contra karma, suffering is often unfair; but contra secularism, suffering is meaningful. There is a purpose to it, and if faced rightly, it can drive us like a nail deep into the love of God and into more stability and spiritual power than you can imagine.”   

-Walking with God through Pain and Suffering 

So, will it hurt if Baby Girl leaves our home? Unimaginably, yes. I'm sure I'll be a mess for days, weeks, months even. I don't know how it will look... but I know it will rip up my heart if it happens.

But it won't be the first time that my heart has been hurt. And it surely won't be the last.

My faith isn't in my own ability to weather the storm should it blow our way though, because I'm absolutely weak. I'm an emotional mess even on a good day where nothing goes wrong [crying is a gift of mine, like I'm an expert]. But fortunately I have a God who I've leaned on in seasons of suffering and He's never been anything less than tender and faithful to deliver me through it all. My weakness only affirms for me that He is able to not only sustain me, but to refine and grow me through painful situations.

If you have faith too, then don't you believe that He's big enough, kind enough, loving enough, and faithful enough to enter into your grief and grow you out of it?  

If you've said, "I just couldn't do it," are you really saying, "I don't believe that The Healer could heal my wounded heart?"  

If you've said, "I just couldn't do it," are you really saying, "I don't believe that The Redeemer could redeem a broken situation?"  

If you've said, "I just couldn't do it," are you really saying, "I don't believe that The Restorer could restore me to wholeness after I've been broken?"  

If you don't have faith in God, and you've said, "I just couldn't do it," are you discounting, forgetting, or dismissing that you've endured loss, hurt, and pain before and grew through it to where you are today? 

Bottom line, folks-- We're grown ups. Adults. Bigger and stronger than these precious, vulnerable children whose lives are battlefields. Many of these kids enter into foster care with diagnoses like PTSD [post traumatic stress disorder]. You know who gets diagnosed with that? Soldiers. Men and women who are in war. Who watch people die. Who are surrounded by tragedy. Oh... also children. Children. Can you imagine? What must they have endured, suffered, seen, and felt to end up with PTSD? Children. 

You're a big person who's lived a lot of life, but chances are you haven't lived anything near what these little people have.

Here's the hardest question:

[did you think it had already been asked?]

Does protecting your grown-up heart take priority over helping vulnerable and hurting children who live right under our noses? 

Fostering isn't for everyone. I don't think everyone who says no to fostering is motivated by fear or selfishness. Truly. But, "I just couldn't handle it if they went home" can't be our #1 reason, right? Maybe fostering doesn't work for your family for a number of very real reasons, and that's okay.  

It's okay. 

But if the questions above reveal that your hesitation is, at its core, just fear of a potentially broken heart, afraid of saying goodbye when we all say goodbye to those we love... maybe dig a little deeper? Maybe look those questions in the eyes and see if you might be braver and stronger than you think? These precious children are having to be far more brave & strong than any child should have to be. 

PS- if you're afraid you might not be able to love a stranger's child... stay tuned. That's a post for another day.