20 Minutes to Spare

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself, it’s that I’m fearful of the unknown. Probably most of us are. One way to assuage cowardice is to push back at the scary thing—see how big it really is, how much effort it’ll take to overcome it—and determine if it’s worth overcoming. Sometimes it’s wise to listen to fear. Sometimes it needs to be crushed.
 
Foster care abounds with uncertainty.

Could I love a child that wasn’t mine? Was it worth loving a child I’d have to give back? Could our hearts survive the experience of welcoming a daughter, a sister into our lives for an undetermined amount of time—only to say goodbye? Could God really sustain us throughout this journey? Would He want to?
 
Yes.
 
{The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
 they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23}
 
The struggle is real, but so is hope.
Unwavering, resolute love that persists.
Inexhaustible mercy divinely renewed with the sunrise.
God’s prodigious commitment to me…to us…to her.
 
Yes.
 
The solution to the fear I was grappling with was love.  So I prayed for love. And I waited for it.
 
On weekday afternoons, I picked up my children from school. In those early days on the road to becoming a licensed foster family, I remember looking into the faces of random children as the final bell rang, thinking, Could I love you? My new little one would be as foreign to me as any one of these strangers. My heart didn’t speak.
 
Oh Lord, if you don’t ignite my heart—I don’t think I can do it. I’ll resent the interruption to my life. I’ll grow dimmer and not brighter. I won’t become an advocate for foster care but an opponent. Help me.
 
{I prayed to the Lord, and he answered me;
He freed me from all my fears.
The oppressed look to him and are glad;
 they will never be disappointed.
The helpless call to him, and he answers;
he saves them from all their troubles.
His angel guards those who honor the Lord
 and rescues them from danger. Psalm 34:4-7}
 
Every foster family has their story. For some, it’s faithfulness despite a silent heart. (See “Our Broken and Beautiful Adoption” by Natalie Patterson Published in the Huffington Post June 27, 2016.) Others are thrust into caring for the children of loved ones who’ve gone astray and have to quickly adapt. But that’s not my story—not this time.
 
Almost twelve years ago I became pregnant with our first child, a son. It was a time of wonderment and anticipation. Nine months later, we met and snuggling him in my arms, I believed in love at first sight. He was so little, so new to the world—so in need of the comfort of a mom. He was perfect.  
 
Flash forward more than a decade to another exhilarating and startling time. This time it’s a worker from Child Protective Services who confirmed life, “We’ll be there in 20 minutes” she said.
 
And with 2O minutes to spare…God finally ignited my heart.  It roared to life with a love big enough for a little girl and her whole story. My heart hadn’t acknowledged the children at the school because they weren’t mine. But she was and I knew it.  
 
There wasn't an OBGYN this time--but a CPS worker. And I wasn't in a delivery room receiving my newborn son, but on my driveway welcoming my foster daughter. She was so little, so new to our world and in need of the comfort of a mom. I got to be the mom, actually, “Aunty-Mom” this time.
 
And yes, she was perfect.
 
It’s true that uncertainties abound in foster care. The system has its limitations. But who hopes in the system? The psalmist cries out for those of us who long for justice, “Our soul waits for the LORD; he is our help and our shield.” Psalm 33:20
 
So that’s our master plan.
 
And when friends who know how our family came to be—trying to reconcile their uncertainty and graciously trying to understand ours, ask THE question, Will you adopt her?
 
The answer is simple--the decision made with 20 minutes to spare.
 
We already have.

Finish well,
​Dionne