As I drove to pick him up, I was trying to figure out why I said yes, we'd take him. We were getting a baby girl to foster by Monday morning, so I don't know why I said we would take a 3 year old little boy, for the weekend. It was breaking our number 1 rule that we wouldn't take kids older than Cai.
As I walked into the lobby of the office, I stood there with a book bag full of diapers and clothes, a purse filled with toys and snacks and I waited to be taken back.
As I walked past cubicle upon cubicle of social worker desks, I felt my heart beat wildly in my chest. I'd never met a foster child before.
Would they be traumatized they would have to go with someone they didn't know? Would they be crying? Would he scream?
Then, suddenly, there he was. This adorable little blonde haired boy walking strong and proud towards me.
I was looking for his visible bruises. I didn't see any. Thank God he was safe right now!
I saw his police sticker that the sheriff had given him and pointed out how cool it was. He had an extra on his back, so he asked me to peel it off. Then, he gave it to me to wear.
I thanked him kindly.
The worker asked him if he would like to go with me, to my house.
He turned and teared up and very emotionally said he missed his parents. My heart sunk.
As I spoke with his worker, we realized it wasn't right for me to take him if he could go to our dear friends and not have to jump homes in a few days, so we called them, and our foster bffs made their way down to get him.
I babysat him and 2 other little foster boys. As they sat and colored and played, eating all my snacks like they'd never eaten a meal in their life, that's when I saw them.
The bruises.
My stomach turned and at that moment the mama bear flew out in me, how dare anyone hit a little child like this. What sick-o should be locked up in this exact moment!?
This precious boy. So sweet and innocent and a pure joy. In that moment, I saw how resilient he was, how he'd fought through pain and tears and confusion trying to figure out why his parents beat him, why they didn't feed him, why they loved him some of the time, but hit him the next.
It was so evil and wrong and again, I found myself praising God that he was safe and that he was going to an excellent home that would love him right.
And it was that moment I became a foster mom to a little boy that wouldn't end up in my home, but I realized right then, why God had called us to this.
As our friends showed up, I did my best to prepare him for their family in the short time I had, telling him how much fun he would have there and that he would have kids to play with all the time.
It was time to go and he was heading out the door. Suddenly, he turned and gave me the biggest tightest hug that I've ever had.
What a blessing this child was to my heart. As I left, I prayed for him, for our dear friends, and for his transition.
He will always have my heart in no way any other child could, because he was the one that changed everything inside of me.
I am a foster mom. I have a purpose I didn't know existed and God is a Rescuer.
Praise him! Praise him! Praise him!
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