When we were dealing with infertility, people often told me to "just relax". What they didn't know is that I could have relaxed until I completely lost all muscle tone in my body and it would not have mattered.  We had diagnosed reasons that we could not conceive.  Unless God chose to work a miracle of healing we were not going to have a baby.  So when people said that, it just made me feel misunderstood and so very alone.  

I guess in a way He did work a miracle.  He changed our hearts and opened them to the fatherless children He needed us to care for.  

Now people say another phrase to me all the time.  They say, "it's just going to be so hard on you when _________ goes". Well, true, but what good does it do for us to dwell on that now?  How does that help me in being the foster mom that God has called me to be? Once again, it sometimes leaves me feeling misunderstood and alone.  

This time next week my family will be surrounded by hundreds of other families living in the trenches of foster care.  There will be fun and snacks and heat.  My kids are about to bust to pack up for camp.  All I can think about is that for a few days no one is going to point out how hard it will be when children leave. They are going to give knowing glances and laugh at the beautiful children that we all have "for now".  They are going to love all my children as if they were aunts or uncles.  And at some point we will all agree that we live a crazy life, but we wouldn't trade it for anything.  

Dangerous

A long time ago when I first started being the foster mom, I was better at remembering that this child has a family (not my family).  I was better at thinking of my core family as a unique unit separate from the whole of the family that included foster little.  It was a dance, but I had a mental separation that kept me in my foster mom role.

It wasn't that I didn't love, I did.  It wasn't that I didn't nurture, I did.  I advocated, loved, nurtured, investigated needs, fulfilled needs, loved, cared, and was the everyday mom.    But I kept a wall around the forever part of my heart.  It was there to protect me.  I felt safe with that wall in place. Like I would be able to survive being a foster parent.

Lately though I feel like someone handed the little one a pick ax or crow bar or sledge hammer and told him to whack away at my wall.  I can't find it anymore.  Forever, for now, it's all mixed up in my heart. Little one has snuck in and made a place in the forever part of my heart.  

Maybe it was the middle of the night stuff.  Maybe it was the passage of time.  Maybe it was watching the baby who came to me turn into a happy, healthy toddler.  Maybe it was when the talking started, and I became "Momma".  Maybe it was when the snuggles into my neck started, or the sloppy toddler kisses.  Maybe it was when the running hug began at daycare pick up time.  Maybe it was the soft dinner time prayers offered by a toddler again years after my forever kids left toddlerhood.  But somewhere around the 12 month or 15 month or 18 month mark my wall disappeared.  

It's gone. 
 (maybe it really always was, and I was kidding myself) 

This is a dangerous love.