When I was called to foster, I thought for sure God had messed up. Me? No. Surely not. He must have mistaken me for someone else. There was no way He was asking me to sign up with a grateful heart to be a single mom. Nope. I am not your girl. That’s insanity.
I’ve had the privilege to walk a lot of life with single moms. I’ve seen first hand the kind of courageousness and bravery it takes to be a single mom. I didn’t possess that kind of strength. I’m not capable or qualified. No way. Not me. Well, I don’t know how telling God ‘no’ has worked out for you, but for me, it’s never really worked out in my favor. So, with my heart scared to death and my voice shaking, I said yes. Sign me up. I’ll do it.
Before becoming licensed to be a foster parent, I was making monthly visits to a local orphanage and had been for several years. Fostering and adoption have always been very close to my heart. I just always assumed it would be something I did after I was settled into life a little more, or after I was married.
The beautiful thing though about children in foster care is they really don’t care if you are capable and fitted to be a mom or dad. They just want you to be open and willing to say yes to them. It was just like every other visit to the orphanage that freezing cold day in January. Except this time, there was a new precious little 8-year-old boy.
He immediately caught my attention. His actions were screaming to me that his trauma ran deep. I left there that day full of heartache hoping I would see him again. For the next 7 months, I saw him once or twice a month. It became increasingly difficult to leave him as he would just cling to my leg and beg me to take him home. And I would have if I was licensed to do so. I would leave, go home, cry, and beg God to provide that precious boy with a family.
Turns out, I was the answer to those prayers. I was his family. I was the one to be his mom. I just didn’t know it yet.
I knew the process to become a foster parent was often a grueling one. But as God would have it, about the time I felt a calling to foster, the pastor of the church I grew up in began an incentive called Rescue 100.
