“How do you love someone when you know they’re going to rip your heart out?” No, I’m not previewing Taylor Swift’s new album. Rather, that is what I think most people really mean when in reference to us becoming foster parents they say, “I don’t think I could do that.”

This is a valid question that becomes more challenging the longer we have a foster child in our care. We’ve grown to love Baby D yet know we won’t be able to raise her like our others. Like all good parents, we know our children are ‘not our own’. But we don’t live with the expectation that they are going to leave us soon.

Watching her fit in our family has been something amazing. Each of our kids has developed a special relationship with her. She knows how to say “Marni”, but Baby D replaced her name a while ago with “Let it go!” because she taught her to sing the hit song from Frozen. Instead of “Dane”, she learned to combine a greeting and his name, just calling him, “HiDane!” We intentionally tried to steer her away from calling us “mommy” and “daddy” but it hasn’t worked and she can regularly be heard celebrating Sara’s return with shouts of “Mama!”. Abe and D seem to operate on the same clock and the super big brother often pulls her out of the crib and brings her downstairs early in the morning before the rest of us. She’s adored by all. Yet sometime in the next…year…she’ll return to her mom and dad. What the living situation will be, we don’t know. What kind of room she’ll sleep in and what the future will hold, we won’t know. The unknowns make the known departure even less desirable.

Then they gathered around him and asked him, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?” He said to them: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority. (Acts 1:7-8)

The disciples asked this question when Jesus was preparing to leave them for good. They knew he was serious this time. He had rose from the dead and all the symbolism,  metaphor, and history they had absorbed was finally making sense. Yet, I wonder if they were just trying to put a theological spin on their anxiety about Jesus no longer being with them in the flesh. I sense their fear was more than that of one losing a good buddy. Some mix of deep friendship, love, neediness, and awe compelled this nervous questioning. A more honest disciple might have asked, “Is this it? Dude. When are we going to see you again?”

We pose those types of technical questions to our social worker from time to time. “If mom and dad ever get in trouble again, will we be the first ones the county calls?” The answer is usually yes and that is good. But its really just a cover for the inner reality that we fear the day Baby D leaves us and we’re left to put our broken hearts back together. We knew this would be the case when we got started. There weren’t any hidden agendas on our part. But this hasn’t kept us from fully embracing little D.

All people are beset with various levels of pride, yet most don’t make extensive sacrifices in order to get noticed. Us included. Jesus warned us not to go around ‘showing off’ our righteousness or our service to the poor. Easier said than done. Our little ‘Sacrifice’ goes with us everywhere; bouncing around the soccer fields, dropping kids off at school, and tagging along at birthday parties.

That’s often where we get the “I don’t know how you can do that” and other mystified responses. It leads to interesting conversations. Many times I just want to say, “We don’t really know either?” No person in their right mind looking at our life would think adding a foster baby was a responsible thing to do. Fortunately, we weren’t thinking that way 18 months ago as this journey began, because we’d be missing out on some great joys. Something isn’t going to sadden you when its gone, if its not valuable in the first place. We await the heart-crushing departure of Baby D because we love her so dearly. The blessing of her presence and the confidence we are helping preserve a better future for her and her family is worth it.

Discovering Light’s work in Ethiopia is supported and prayed for by you all. You stand beside us on behalf of a far off ministry. God didn’t let us keep our ministry in the professional realm. About two years ago he provided a home with adequate space and called us to fill it a little fuller than we expected with a child in need. Friends and acquaintances alike often say, “I commend you for what you’re doing. That is very noble,” which just feels weird.

I often say “It fits our family,” or “It’s the grace of God.” But I wish it wasn’t awkward. We aren’t hearing many say, “If you can do it, so can we!” Maybe they will when we’ve actually faced what most say is their biggest fear: “How can you care for a child knowing you are going to have to give them back?” At this point, I can’t imagine any of the pleasure D has brought us not being greater than the pain.

**To clarify, we did not expect to keep any of the foster children we have or may have in the future. That was not our intention when we started and part of the agreement with our organization. But we haven’t let this hold us back from fully embracing and loving Baby D as our own.**