Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me.
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior.
My heart is broken that our sweet foster baby will be leaving us soon. He's been a part of our family for nearly a year--laughs, hugs, wails, and all. We have been enchanted by him.
It was such a natural thing to be his mom. There was never a question whether he would be loved. He has been cherished. We've experienced all his firsts with him--first food, first tooth, first time pushing up, sitting, sleeping through the night. We've made every decision with his best interest at heart. We've soothed his tears when he didn't feel well. And we have prayed over him, every day of his life.
Everyone asks me how we could possibly let him go. It's an understandable question because it's not natural for a mother to let go of her children. No one in the world knows our children as well as we do. Our every instinct is to hold them close, protect them. How do you stop being a parent when you are one?
Letting go is hard. Something I glibly admitted it would be before I knew what it would feel like to hand the child I've mothered for nearly a year into someone else's arms. So yes, my heart is broken.
I am broken.
I know Jesus called me to this hard place and I asked for it-- in every prayer I prayed for God to use me. In worship, when I sang Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders, and meant it. When I told God that I wanted to be sold out, that I would do anything.
C.S. Lewis writes in his book A Grief Observed, "Your bid—for God or no God, for a good God or the Cosmic Sadist, for eternal life or nonentity—will not be serious if nothing much is staked on it. And you will never discover how serious it was until the stakes are raised horribly high."
Fostering isn't about me. It's about the children who come into my home--and the stakes could not be higher.
We will let this sweet baby go, because truly, he is not ours. He belongs to God, just like the children we birthed into our family. We were blessed to parent him for a while and we will have the honor of praying for him for the rest of his life. And He will have the Creator of the Universe on his side, looking out for him and leading him, relentlessly pursuing him.
We will still be broken, but that's okay. Psalm 34:18 says, "The Lord is near to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Being near to the Lord, in the presence of my Savior, is where I long to be.