When I started fostering, it was for days like this:
or, more recently, this:
But last Friday, I got to drive my most recent foster kids home. They had been in our home since August. Their parents have worked hard. They have turned their lives around. They have earned back the right to parent their children. I have cheered them on every step of the way and I am truly impressed at what they have overcome. I drove up in front of their home, decorated with balloons and was able to witness a very happy reunion. I got to pray with their family and take a family pic of them and drive away. I never thought I would love days like that; days where I hand over the kids I have raised for the last ten months, five months, or a year to their parents. I never thought I would love letting go or that I would realize that if I am really for the kids I parent and love and minister to that I MUST be for their parents too. I never thought that I would relish my loss and their gain. I am suprised; not by their redemption or healing, but by mine.