NOTE: This post is a way of processing my thoughts towards our foster girls' birth mom (the girls are 4 and 2 1/2 years old). All names have been changed for anonymity. When I write about foster parenting, I especially want to acknowledge that I am in no way an expert or authority on the subject. We have been fostering for two and a half months and I'm mostly learning that I have a ton to learn. Writing about my experiences and thoughts is really helpful for me and I hope will positively affect those who read the pieces, in their own life circumstances.
Dear Christy,
Before I go to bed, Jeff and I always check on all the kids. Jeff stands by the beds and prays. Sometimes I have energy for that, other times, I just say a quick thank you to God for each life with which we've been entrusted. When I look in on your girls, nine times out of ten, Ellie is partially hanging off the bed or has her head where her feet should be. I have to maneuver her back to the center of the bed and cover her up again. Abby’s face is usually hidden under her disheveled curls.
I feel awkward in showing physical affection towards your girls, even as they sleep. Tonight, I brushed their hair out of their eyes and let my fingers linger on their foreheads as a blessing. I thought about you, as I often do. When I think of you during the day, it’s often laced with confusion and bitterness. I’m struggling with the demands of foster care and I get mad that you aren’t present to deal with the constant misbehavior and tantrums. I know so little of who you are and what you’re going through, yet somehow I’m carrying the weight of raising your daughters. But tonight, the resentment is more quiet and I’m just wondering about you.
How would you look in on them? Would you kiss their cheeks and remember how they looked and smelled as babies? That’s what I do with my boys. I didn’t know Ellie and Abby as babies. I don’t hold their stories and they can tell me very little about their younger lives. Did you ever tell them baby stories? Did you – do you – dream of their futures when you look at Abby’s soft curls and those black eyelashes on Ellie’s porcelain cheeks?
I wish you were here to bless them as they sleep. I wish they could smell your smell and feel your fingertips on their foreheads. I wish they had the deep peace and safety of consistency. How do I do your job, Christy? How long will your healing journey last, while Jeff and I tackle all these childhood milestones – potty training Abby, teaching Ellie to ride a bike, trying to give them healthy boundaries? How can these key years go by without you? Your girls want you.
This morning at church, I sang the final worship song as a prayer for you. I want to understand more than I do about what's going on with you. However, I can let that go at least for a song’s length and believe a generational blessing over you all. God bless you, Christy. God bless your daughters, and their daughters and sons, and the ones who come after that. May this story you’re walking out somehow be a testimony of His power that your family tells for generations.
The Blessing by Cody Carnes
The Lord bless you
And keep you
Make His face shine upon you
And be gracious to you
The Lord turn His
Face toward you
And give you peace
Amen, amen, amen
Amen, amen, amen
The Lord bless you
And keep you
Make His face shine upon you
And be gracious to you
The Lord turn His
Face toward you
And give you peace
Amen, amen, amen
Amen, amen, amen
May His favor be upon
you
And a thousand generations
And your family and your children
And their children, and their children
May His favor be upon you
And a thousand generations
And your family and your children
And their children, and their children
May His presence go
before you
And behind you, and beside you
All around you, and within you
He is with you, He is with you
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