On Temporary Mothering

This week, I said goodbye to my first foster child as she joined her forever family. It was a first experience for both of us as I prepared her in the days leading up to her parents arrival to India to get her, dressing her all up for her big day, helping her say goodbye to all her sisters, her room and the home she lived in with us. And when it came time for me to say goodbye to her, it was the first time my heart felt something it hasn’t before.  

I knew that Piper was in the final stages of her adoption when she was transferred to us and that she wouldn’t be in my home for long. I think instinctually, my heart told me not to get attached. But I quickly found myself falling in love with her silly, big, animated personality the way I do with all of my other foster children's unique personalities. I didn’t really care how long she would stay…any child that comes into my home becomes a child I love like my own and that’s just the way it is. I’m not sure if I even want to try to convince my heart otherwise.

I didn’t think it would be hard to say goodbye-how could it be when I was walking into one of the most important, life changing days for her? I couldn’t believe this little girl, who has been one of so many orphans in this country was about to become someone’s daughter, sister, and significant member of a family. There is no doubt that adoption is truly one of the most beautiful things in this world. I felt so lucky that I got to witness such a small little part of it from such a unique perspective.  

Our end of the road looked like this-when it came time for me to leave, right before her parents showed up to get her, she looked at me and cried. When I came home and saw her pajamas lying on the floor, I cried too. 

I was surprised, honestly, by my feelings of grief over such a joyous occasion. I felt guilty for feeling sad when I should really be rejoicing for such a miraculous event. But our house just didn’t feel the same anymore and I couldn’t help but think that this is just the beginning of watching my children off to their forever families.

It was kind of a smack in the face, really. Because the reality is that I am not their mother. I am not their biological mother and I am not their adoptive mother. I am their foster mother and that title comes with the word “temporary”. I am the middle woman who picks up the pieces of their biological mothers and helps prepare the way for their adoptive mothers. I stand in the gap. I don’t know how long our time together will be. And while my heart loves, protects and cherishes them like they’re my own, I cannot doubt that it is only for a time.

The mother in me is broken a little bit by that. As much as I feel like a mother to these children, there’s the budging question of “when will it all be over?” that interrupts that feeling often. Sometimes, I don’t want to be the temporary mother because it’s too vulnerable, too complicated and it hurts too much. Sometimes, I question if the risk in loving these children wholeheartedly is worth the pain I know I will feel one day when it’s time to say goodbye. Sometimes, I don't feel like a real mother because when I look at my children the amount of love I have for them frightens me more than it comforts me. Sometimes, I want to turn around on the road I’ve found myself on that often only looks hard, painful and burdensome. The future is so unclear and I cannot even begin to put my hands around it. That alone keeps me awake at night.

Being a foster mother has humbled me in more ways than I can count. It has challenged my theology on what it means to really love someone, has caused me to go back to the ultimate example of love and then strive to practice it in my own life. My relationship with these children is complicated and my gosh, does it feel like it comes with such a high cost at times. But this all apart of the deal. When God put my butt on a plane to India to be a mother to 10 abandoned children, He didn’t ask that I would love them with restrictions and conditions around it so that I wouldn’t get hurt. I’m pretty sure the only way I know I’m doing this loving thing right is if it does hurt. I will never find a reason to regret loving these children with everything on the line and I am convinced the reward will always be greater than the sting of pain.

Whatever He puts in my hand, He asks that I hold it openly, palm facing up. It’s all from His hand first, anyways. 

A Sermon by Nat

Christmas Eve 2014, a fellow SCH foster mom and I decided to take a trip to the government orphanage for a short visit with the children in Room 8- the room containing all of the orphans with disabilities. I walked in that day and she caught my eye immediately. She has caught my eye once before- on the day that I met my girls in the room right across from hers when I went to peek my head in for a quick moment. When I walked into her room this time, I went straight over to her and scooped her up, urine soaked and as skinny as a skeleton. I spent the next hour just holding her and taking her outside to see the sun and feel the fresh air that never falls on her pale face. As I was standing outside with her, feeling my heart fall fast in love, my friend looked at me and said “Yeah...you should just take her home!” As soon as she confirmed what I was already thinking in my head, I knew that it was a done deal. This little girl was going to be one of mine soon.

The government orphanage is a really hard place for me to visit. I never like walking down that hallway and passing by rooms full of children who I know have been put there because they’re parents didn’t want them or couldn’t keep them. I hate knowing that they are all being deprived of one, if not the most important thing to human life- love. They’re alone and as Mother Theresa once said, that is the worst poverty of all .

But there is something really empowering and motivating about stepping into a place like that and seeing a child who is so malnourished and so under cared for and knowing you have something you can do about it. I run a home and mother children who are desperately in need of love, nurture and family. My home and my presence here exists to serve for that sole purpose. The bible says in Proverbs 3:27 to "not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act". Standing there with her in my arms that day, I knew I wouldn't be able to run from what was in my power to do for her. 

I went home and told my children about this new little girl we would be taking home with us soon and they were all ecstatic to welcome another member to our family. On the day I went to go pick her up and bring her home, I brought my two eldest girls, Gemma and Violet. The three of us walked down that hallway, this time, on a mission. We walked by their old room to see an entire new group of children had occupied it now. And then we walked into Penny’s room, picked her up and I introduced the girls to their new little sister. Violet and Gemma had huge smiles on their faces and immediately, Violet grabbed her out of my arms and began loving on her as big sister. The four of us walked out of there and Violet snuggled her in the car the entire way home. When we got home, she was greeted by 7 very excited girls and was quickly being passed around the room with a surplus of hugs and kisses. We gave her a bath, put her in fresh, clean clothes and I spent the rest of the day watching my girls completely accept and love on this new child with no conditions and at no cost.

That night after putting them all to sleep, I felt like my heart could burst with pride and joy over my children. As I laid there in my bed, remembering all the details of the day I realized how profound my experience with government orphanage and it’s children has been these last few months. You see, my experience in this government orphanage has been God’s way of painting me the story of how He rescues us, how at one time He rescued me the same way.  

Because Jesus sees our condition, He sees us suffering alone in a bad place, with no one to advocate for us and He enters into the dark hallway of our hearts. He walks through and sees the gravity of our pain and suddenly, His heart is flooded with the deepest pain of all. He walks into our room and although we are a face in a sea of faces, He sees us first. With His gaze fixed on us, He walks gently towards us, bends down and swoops us up in His arms. He sees how starving we are, how neglected and deprived we are and He is broken for what he sees. He sits on the dirty floor, surrounded by things that have made us that way and He holds us just as we are. Rocking back and forth with our weak bodies held close to his chest, He soaks in the moments he loves most with his children- being with us. After a few moments, He rises with us in His arms and He carries us out. He walks back down that long, dark hallway except this time, holding His most precious child in His protective arms. He reaches the end of the hallway and steps outside into the daylight where we can feel the warmth of the sun on our faces and the fresh breeze blow through our hair. Then, He takes us home. When we arrive, He shows us off to everyone and His face beams with pride over being our father. He then cleans us up and puts fresh, new clothes on us. He wipes the orphan label off our heads and he replaces it with “daughter” or “son”. We are now His and although we are still very broken, we are safe now. When we are tempted to fear our new surroundings, He gently assures us by whispering in our ear, "The old has passed away; behold, the new has come." (2 Cor. 5:17)

I brought my oldest girls with me to pick up Penny for a reason. It wasn’t very long ago that I was coming to that same orphanage to take them home. I wanted them to have the chance to stand on the other side of that experience now. For once, they were no longer the victim, they were the one rescuing, the one helping. I wanted them to be empowered by that. The way they walked in there, to the place where they existed as one of hundreds of orphans for so many years, and then confidently walked out of there with our new family member showed me another picture of God’s story.

When God saves us from a dark place and brings us into the bright light, when He heals us and makes us whole again, when He rebuilds us and redeems us... He makes us warriors. He leads us back into those dark places, but this time as a fighter with a crown of victory already on our heads. He asks us to help Him bring others out of the same pit we were once in, not because He needs us but because He wants us to share in His glory. He doesn’t choose us because we are the right person for the job or because we have proven ourselves to be capable enough, but because He wants to empower us to do
"even greater works than before" (John 14:12). And through it all, He knows that leading us back in to those dark places will not burn us or shove us back down to the place we once were but only redeem us more, heal us more, refine us more and make us look more like Himself- our Dad. 

That is God’s perfect grace. That is what redemption looks like. That is the gospel.

I can thank my children, this country and it's darkest places for showing me a painting as beautiful as that.