Lessons on Good Friday: A Fostering Perspective

On Wednesday night, we found our pet praying mantis lying still, in its cage. It had died, and my younger son and I particularly grieved the loss of our new pet. Then I dropped a bottle of medicine and cut myself while picking up the shards of glass. The visual reminder triggered by the crimson fluid brought to mind that Good Friday was approaching. His blood shed for us by His death on the Cross.

Thursday morning, we met with the relevant case managers and were told that the time had come for our baby girl to return to her birth family.

This is the baby we have known since she was 2-months-old. She turns 1-year-old next month. We have fought hard for her in the times we felt that others were not doing so; we have played, fed, comforted, giggled with, sang to, bathed, and done all the things parents would do for a young child. We have seen her through the many adjustments and sleepless nights she has had to make in being shuttled from one caregiver to another.

During her time with us, our little girl has developed strong attachment bonds with us.

We have seen her blossom into a carefree, sensitive, confident and communicative little girl on the cusp of turning one. She is loved by many of our friends and family, and we have been blessed in return by her love for us. 

When we started fostering, people would ask us, How do you do it? I will never be able to face the time when the child and our family will have to part.

Honestly, that was the part I feared the most. But God was calling us to open our home as a mission field, and He also said that I would have to trust Him to take us through the grief we would feel when the child went back. I knew as a mum I would have to trust Him particularly with my boys. Going through grief myself is one thing; knowing my children would have to go through it and watching them do so is another. So it has been a journey of faith. 

Now, the day is finally fast approaching. And we are already feeling acutely the sadness which comes at the thought of this cutie pie leaving our home, the ray of sunshine and bundle of joy that she has been. She is a delight. Our older boy is particularly heart broken after hearing the news, and I know our younger one will feel it acutely as he has been my little helper to her. Both have been such good kor kors to her. 

Her kor kors love her so much and will miss her greatly when she returns to her birth family.

As parents, we know we are but stewards - it does not matter whether biological, adoptive, or foster. But the thought of parting with any of our children brings with it such horror and grief that we could barely stand the thought. I now feel this way about the day we will have to say goodbye, even though we all knew it would happen in this fostering journey. 

We are remembering Jesus' death today. We have fellowship in His suffering, and when He allows us to have glimpses of it in this earthly life, however painful, I choose to give thanks, because it gives me a taste of the Heavenly Father and His great love for me.

He gave His one and only Son in order that we might have access once again to His presence and peace with God, though we are unworthy, to restore us to a right relationship with Him. 

One of the earlier photos when she first came to us. Looking back, we cannot imagine that our little girl was once this small. 

I take comfort in the fact that as we will grieve not seeing this little one again, we have a Heavenly Father who has Himself experienced the loss of a child, in spiritual dimensions that we would not even be able to comprehend the horror of that separation.

One of our most recent photos - at the Jewel. Indeed she has gone with us almost wherever our family has gone.

We also have the comfort and the hope that He holds her in the palm of His hands ad has a good and perfect plan for her life. Our older son said when he heard, "So we will never see her again? Until we meet in heaven?" They have been praying for her to know Jesus and said she is safe because she has been surrounded by people who know God.

I don't know, my son, but we will continue to pray. And we serve a God who did not stay dead forever, but rose again, conquering death on the third day. We know He fights for our little one, and with the Resurrection, though there is sorrow and grief, we have Hope. And Faith. And Love, which is the greatest of these.

Not our "forever family"; but the family we will always remember.