Choosing Unconditional Love
We found out that there is a prospective home for our foster daughter. We are thrilled at the possibility, and we are hopeful that the outcome will be positive. We have been living in this anticipation. And it has been hard. We are weary, and we are experiencing significant levels of compassion fatigue.
I have realized recently how challenging this placement has been. Not that our foster daughter isn't worth all the effort we have put into her, but it has taken every ounce of resiliency, patience, and grace we have been able to muster to hang in there with her. I attribute a lot of this stamina to sheer naivete. I had no idea what we were experiencing with her wasn't normal for foster kids. And then we had so many difficult things we went through with her older sister, that her issues seemed tame by comparison. But after reflecting back on what it has taken and what we have had to sacrifice to keep our home functional with her in it, I realize that it has been an extraordinary effort.
Prior to becoming a foster parent, I had a really solid community of friends that I met with regularly. I had to give up those meetings because I couldn't find a baby-sitter. I couldn't find a baby-sitter because her behavior was incredibly challenging and she needed someone more mature than your local high schooler. She was a lot for my mom, a retired ESL teacher, to even handle.
We were parenting a child that didn't know how to relinquish control to adults. Because adults had never been reliable or trustworthy or stable in her life. We had to work on teaching her that we cared about her safety and health and well-being. That she didn't have to be in charge, because we were able to take that responsibility off her small shoulders.
I try not to be too hard on myself when I know my compassion is waning and that I'm losing patience. But I do often feel disappointed or ashamed that I can't muster up more patience for our foster daughter. After all, she has been through so many hard things.
But then I think about how broken the world is. And how by God's standard, we all live completely dysfunctional lives. How God has endless compassion for me, and how his heart is stirred especially by "the least of these." And that even He needed rest.
We have more to endure. We want to finish whatever time we have left with our foster daughter as well as possible. But then it will be time to rest. And I will think about how patient the Lord is with me. How his compassion never ceases. How I fight with him for control and to maintain responsibility instead of entrusting it to Him. And how he patiently guides me closer to Him through those connections.
I know parents of biological children often mention how they never understood unconditional love until they had children of their own. I wonder, though, if maybe parents of foster and adoptive children understand the unconditional love a little better. Because for us, love isn't automatic. It is fought for and desperately clung to and chosen over and over and over again.
I have realized recently how challenging this placement has been. Not that our foster daughter isn't worth all the effort we have put into her, but it has taken every ounce of resiliency, patience, and grace we have been able to muster to hang in there with her. I attribute a lot of this stamina to sheer naivete. I had no idea what we were experiencing with her wasn't normal for foster kids. And then we had so many difficult things we went through with her older sister, that her issues seemed tame by comparison. But after reflecting back on what it has taken and what we have had to sacrifice to keep our home functional with her in it, I realize that it has been an extraordinary effort.
Prior to becoming a foster parent, I had a really solid community of friends that I met with regularly. I had to give up those meetings because I couldn't find a baby-sitter. I couldn't find a baby-sitter because her behavior was incredibly challenging and she needed someone more mature than your local high schooler. She was a lot for my mom, a retired ESL teacher, to even handle.
We were parenting a child that didn't know how to relinquish control to adults. Because adults had never been reliable or trustworthy or stable in her life. We had to work on teaching her that we cared about her safety and health and well-being. That she didn't have to be in charge, because we were able to take that responsibility off her small shoulders.
I try not to be too hard on myself when I know my compassion is waning and that I'm losing patience. But I do often feel disappointed or ashamed that I can't muster up more patience for our foster daughter. After all, she has been through so many hard things.
But then I think about how broken the world is. And how by God's standard, we all live completely dysfunctional lives. How God has endless compassion for me, and how his heart is stirred especially by "the least of these." And that even He needed rest.
We have more to endure. We want to finish whatever time we have left with our foster daughter as well as possible. But then it will be time to rest. And I will think about how patient the Lord is with me. How his compassion never ceases. How I fight with him for control and to maintain responsibility instead of entrusting it to Him. And how he patiently guides me closer to Him through those connections.
I know parents of biological children often mention how they never understood unconditional love until they had children of their own. I wonder, though, if maybe parents of foster and adoptive children understand the unconditional love a little better. Because for us, love isn't automatic. It is fought for and desperately clung to and chosen over and over and over again.
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