The Hard Part

If I were asked about what is hard about foster parenting, of course, there are quite a few tough parts.  Three years of being ready for a surprise inspection by licensing at any moment is just plain tiring.  Having to hire caregivers to help when I really just want my house and kids to myself can be tough.  The roller coaster of emotions when cases start to go one way and then something makes them go another way is not my idea of fun.  Case workers who think they rule your schedule gets old.  Paperwork?  Ugg.

Today, though, I was reminded about what is truly tough about this for me.  I have seen battered moms too many times.  It shakes me to the core.  I have seen broken bones, strangulation marks, and serious bruising on the moms of my little loves.  I have heard the made up excuses as to how the injuries happened, and the excuses are not even slightly plausible.  My heart breaks for these women who possibly know no other life.  My heart breaks when they almost get away but then go back or find another man just as bad as the first.  My heart breaks at the thought of what my children witnessed when they were under that roof.  My heart breaks that these moms are trying to bring these kids back into that situation they cannot break free from.

Part of me is mad at the mom.  I am mad that she has all these case workers helping her to make a new life, to find housing and jobs and counseling and a way out, and yet she goes back.  I am mad that she promises all sorts of changes one week and then goes back to the exact situation the kids were taken from the very next week.  I am mad that she cannot see that these babies should not be witnessing those things.

The other part of me is so, so sad for her.  I am sad that she did not have the childhood that helped her know that she deserves better.  I am sad that she has no one to turn to now other than the abuser.  I am sad that her extreme resolve to do the right thing for her baby can't pay her rent or get her through the dark nights or demons from her past.  I'm sad that my job is to love the kid and not take in the mom, who needs it almost as much.

I pray.  I pray for these moms.  I pray that I can forgive them just as I need forgiveness over and over again.  I pray that I can show them love and support and smiles when my heart is struggling to feel it.  I pray that God will protect the babies and give them the life He wants for them.  I pray that I can let go when that is my job.  I pray that my disappointment in the mom's choices or inability to choose does not show when I talk to my children.  I pray that I remember my own shortcomings and look at these moms human to human.

Tonight I am thankful for my husband.  I am thankful that some of my kids will not go back to that life.  I am thankful that some of my kids do not have too many vibrant memories of that time.  I am thankful I grew up in a home with a loving and gentle father and that I have a huge web of support around me.

Part of me cannot wait to be done with this stress and drama.  It is so hard to bear witness to these broken lives.  I want to snuggle my happy, big family and leave these other harsh realities behind.  At the same time, I know that we are asked to love those who most need love, to get in there where people are hurting and bring hope and healing.  How do I build a cocoon around my family and home and still be a part of the healing of others?