Foster the FamilySample

Day Two

“Why am I a foster parent anyway?”

Scripture: Psalm 27; John 16:33

I hate foster care. None of this is as it should be. A baby shouldn’t have to be taken from his mother two days after birth. A worker shouldn’t leave just a few minutes to say goodbye. A family shouldn’t have their hearts broken over and over. This system and this whole wide world are broken, broken, broken.

Jesus told us that in this world we would have trouble (John 16:33). But the only person who chooses a life full of difficulty, chaos, and pain is the one who has weighed the other options and decided that the benefits exceed the costs. Being a foster parent entails costs. Some costs you can see and measure. Some are imperceptible in the short term and invisible to others.

But what about the benefits? The joys: a child’s laughter, good grades, reunification, adoption. The victories: She told me she loves me. She’s becoming less afraid of men. He’s opening up about the past. She slept through the night. She smiled. We had such a fun day as a family. Dad has been sober for three months.

Are these joys and victories enough? Is the math as simple as “the good outweighs the bad”? If you’re new to the game, you may still be running on adrenaline and happy moments. But time and kids and parents and workers and behaviors and investigations and reunifications and failed reunifications can beat the honeymoon right out of you. And the question stands: Why am I a foster parent anyway?

Foster parent, this is a question you have to be able to answer with clarity and confidence, with a foundational kind of answer. You need a sustaining truth that transcends situations, conditions, thoughts, and feelings. Your reason cannot be circumstantial. It must be theological. That’s what we’re going to look at next.

It doesn’t shock You, God when I shake my fist at it all. When I say, “I hate this,” and I say it to You, it’s said like a prayer. A faith-filled acknowledgment that though this isn’t how it should be, You are above it all. A desperate cry that though I feel like I can’t do it anymore, You will give me the strength. A worn-out and weary statement of faith: I do all of this for You. A held-close conviction that it doesn’t matter how hard, this is worth it. Amen.