No one talks about this side of foster care…

*names changed to protect privacy

It was a hot Tuesday afternoon in mid-July when my doorbell rang. Standing outside was a little boy named Preston*, his head barely reaching my hips, and his transporter. His hair was cut short, a side effect of recent lice removal. The clothes he was wearing hung off his slender frame as he obsessively rocked back and forth. His smile, even on Day One, lit up the world. I welcomed him into a house we’d just moved into 3 days before. In the middle of unpacking, I’d paused long enough to borrow a bunk bed from our local foster closet, and run to the store for an extra set of sheets. From the moment he walked into my house, I was his, and he was mine. It was as if my soul had always known his. I loved him fiercely, completely, and immediately. 

Preston came as a single placement in a sibling set that had been divided into three separate homes. There was a brother, Shane*, nearby. In fact, Shane was the reason we were called in the first place. They wanted to place the brothers near each other, and we were the closest available home. That first month, Shane was at our house all the time. I asked for and received permission to enroll him at the same school that our kids would be attending, so they could go to school together. We were feeding him, spending time with him, educating him… why wouldn’t we bring him into our home? 

The easy answer to that question was that he broke birth order in our home, and we were fresh out of seats in our car. But, after a month of bringing Shane home and consoling him as he cried when he left his little brother every night, that didn’t seem like a very good reason anymore. Feeling very certain about the next right move, I requested an overcap. After all, what was the burden of driving two cars everywhere compared to the overarching benefit of healing a little boy’s heart? 

If I could pause this story right here, and look at it from my perspective 7 years later… I’m not sure if I would have still walked forward the same way I did then. Maybe it’s better that I didn’t know what would unfold. This “yes” to the oldest brother is a pivotal turning point in my life. Saying yes to this placement, bringing him into my home, merging him with my family … it broke me.

But, that’s getting a little ahead of myself. 

Back then, all I knew was that it felt like my life was being flipped upside down. The intensity of love that I felt towards Preston; I felt that same intensity of annoyance with Shane. The kindness and grace that I felt, quite naturally, towards Preston; I simply couldn’t find with Shane. I held on to the certainty that it was the right thing to do to have him in our home. I defended that mindset with every fiber of my soul. I raged against that certainty. 

I broke against that certainty.

I couldn’t even put my finger on what was so hard. I’d never experienced this before. I’d never had a child in my home that I felt incapable of loving. The more I tried, the farther away this feeling of love felt.

I’m an external processor, so my friends and family got an earful. I felt trapped, and I hate feeling trapped. I felt lied to - by who? I couldn’t tell you, but I felt it all the same. To make it worse, people loved Shane. He won hearts left and right. Friends and family couldn’t understand what I was struggling with. 

During one of my external processing (venting) sessions, I said, “I don’t love him at all.” The person I was talking to rejected that statement and told me that I didn’t know what I was talking about. I reiterated my statement. I do know what I’m talking about. This hard truth inside of me needed to come out… what they said next changed absolutely nothing in the moment, but has stayed with me for seven years of loving children who have experienced trauma. They said, “What if your definition of love isn’t big enough? Do you feed him? Do you clothe him? Do you care for his needs? That’s love. Do you protect him? Do you fight for him? Do you provide for him? That’s love. Yes, love is a feeling, but love is so much more than that… and sometimes, you don’t feel it at all. Sometimes, love is just action. Shane isn’t going to change overnight. In fact, he might never change… but that doesn’t determine how you show up, and how you judge yourself in this relationship. Give yourself some grace, Rebecca. You’re doing it.”

Can this be my gift to you if (or when) you find yourself struggling with connection… love is a verb. It’s a commitment to show up for a person regardless of feelings (or lack of feeling) towards them. It’s consistently turning towards the person instead of away. Maybe you feel an instant connection with a child coming into your home. Maybe you don’t. It might come. It might not. There are a number of factors that influence that connection. Give yourself some grace. Release yourself from the burden of feeling love for every child that walks through your doors. Show up. Turn towards them. Every day, over and over again. That’s love too.