Only God Can

I sat across from my friend and watched as she tried to keep the tears from spilling over. Sometimes there are no words to bring comfort. No grand ideas to share. Sometimes we each just need someone to sit with us and experience the deep pain within us.

Our stories are similar. Each of us has a child who has chosen not to accept our love. The pain of rejection eats away at us. The feeling that we are not enough burns a hole inside each of our hearts. We are broken.

What did I do wrong, we think. Why was my love not enough?

We can both remember bringing our children home. They were school age. We'd missed so much of their lives already. Both came with memories of abuse and neglect. Our kids brought their broken hearts into our homes with little input on who would care for them.

They didn't have a book of families to sift through and decide which one they might fit in with the best. Some birth moms may get this option for their child through domestic adoption, but foster kids just need a home that is open for the moment. Agencies try to place children in the home that might work best, but sometimes there aren't many options.

In our cases, we got to chose the kids that came into our homes by reading and learning about them first. My husband and I even got to spend a week with our children in our home. We provided respite care before deciding if it would be the right fit.

The point is, if our children had a choice, they would most likely choose to be reunited with their biological parents even if it meant more suffering. No one, even the woman with the mom of the year award, can replace birth parents. They are forever our children's first love.

So, where does that leave us. Two broken mamas who have poured out our hearts, blood, sweat, and tears, in an unwavering effort to show two children that they are lovable, valuable, and totally worth it.

Why won't they believe us?

I share my experiences with my friend in an effort to let her know there is hope. Even though the present circumstances for my child may look totally hopeless, I know that God is not done working. I believe with all my heart that my child can be saved.

But I've learned that I'm not the one to do it. I'm not the Savior.

I was never called to save my child. I think that's where some of us mamas get mixed up. We think we are saving our child from the evil they were exposed to as children. We believe we are rescuing them from more pain and a path that would lead to destruction. We mistakenly assume that by them coming to live with us that their world will become miraculously better. After all, we have taken great care to decorate their rooms, buy them all they need, feed them nutritious food, take them to special places, and teach them about Jesus. Shouldn't they be grateful?

Would I be grateful?

I've just said goodbye to my birth family forever. I've been uprooted from all I know. I've lost my friends and teachers most likely. I'm walking into a place with new sights, sounds, and smells. The stuff isn't mine. I have no connection to these new people. I'm supposed to follow their rules when I've never had rules before.

No, I don't think I would be grateful, at least not right away.

Some kids can adjust. They learn a new way of life and adapt. Other kids just don't. My friend and I both have kids in the "don't" category. Or, after all our years of trying to prove our love for them, we might call it the "won't" category. They won't let us in. They won't let us close to their heart and as a result we have become the barriers for our own kids' success.

We watch as they thrive with others, especially when placed in new situations where they meet someone for the first time. Oh, they are marvelous. So smart, so creative, so hard-working. They are great performers. And many times they live up to their performance, as long as they don't have to get close to those people.

Stir in a helping of love and it's a whole different story. Pour in some kind words, pats on the back, and a hug and there is a recipe for disaster.

This concept still comes across as foreign to me especially since I am a "words of affirmation" type of gal. You give me some kudos and my love tank is full. Add in a little quality time and a hug and I'm golden.

Not our kids.

We end our conversation admitting we aren't enough for our kids. We were never intended to be everything for our kids. We must trust they are in God's hands and if that means letting them go to another family, residential treatment, or even what we would consider down a destructive path, we have to let them go.

We pray. We don't control.

We wait. We don't pressure.

We hope. We don't give up.

This is what it means to be a mom who loves deeply. We love our children enough to let them go and thrive wherever God takes them. We admit our shortcomings, and trust that God can use every drop of blood and tear shed for His glory in their lives and ours.

We let them go in the hopes that someday they will return. First to their Father in heaven, and if possible, to us.