Strangers' Children--The Plight of Foster Parents, Foster Children and Those Who Love Them

"I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, though I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea." Sara Teasdale

These foster parents  have four children. Two of them are their biological children and two are foster children. The power of her words to me hit me hard.  Even this morning as I write I am processing what she said and what she might have meant by it. She said, "It's hard what we do. Taking in strangers' children."  This family has been involved in foster care for several years and we have been involved with them for nearly two years. Our association with them and their children has opened our hearts, at times almost to the breaking point. Until this association, I thought fostering was a sort of surrogate love, a not quite as real as real love love. I thought that foster parents cared for the children in their care until a "real family" could be located.  I thought that surely foster parents protect their hearts knowing that the child could be taken from them by "the system" at any time.

At least in the case of this family, I had never been more wrong. When a foster family accepts a child into their home, they lay their hearts on the table. It might be trampled by "the system" or trampled by the child; they have no control over either possibility. It's  a calculated risk, a chance that they are willing to take.

But "taking in strangers' children" summed it up for me in a new way. The foster parents share no history with these children.  There is no DNA, there is no relationship with the parents and grandparents or any other family member. There is no natural support group. This family accepts this baby, child or teenager for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. There are no strings attached;  there are no guarantees.  There is simply a needy child knocking on their door saying, "May I  come in. I need somewhere to live. I need a roof over my head.  I need someone to take care of me. I need someone to love me. I have nowhere else to go." The foster parent standing at the door who knows absolutely nothing about this child, with no hesitation says, "Please come in. You are welcome here. Please make yourself comfortable. We want  you to live here with us. We need your love as much as you need ours."  The child's family may be strangers, but this child is not.  As soon as she walks over the threshold she is welcomed into the bosom of the family. "There is no distinction between 'our children' and you. For as long as it is possible, you belong to us. Would you like something to drink? Are you hungry?  Would you like to see your room?"

As a foster parent, if you think there are risks to "taking in strangers' children", imagine how this child feels standing at the door of a stranger. They have no history with you. They share no DNA. They have no natural support group. They take their heart in their hands and hand it to you and say "I don't know you. I don't know anything about you. But please love me for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. I have nowhere else to go."

So there you have it. Fostering is a community of strangers. But strangers can become family and friends very quickly. Lifelong friendships have started when children play in line to visit the FBI building in Washington, D.C. or on a thirty minute flight from Atlanta to Chattanooga. Our foster family is in the process of adopting both of their children, a teenager and an eighteen month old. The teenager asked to be adopted. The eighteen month old, who has no legal say, certainly has a say. His first two words were "Mommy" and "Daddy"  He feels quite at home.

This foster family has also taken us in. We stood on their door step and said, "We have no idea what we can do, but we want to help. We want to learn to love your children, all of them, like you love them. Our children and grandchildren, those to whom we are or are not related,  live far away from here. We miss them and we are very homesick. We have a roof over our heads, but we need a roof over our hearts. We need children in our lives. I know that we are strangers, but we would love to be your friends."  And they said, "Please come in; you are welcome here. You are no strangers to us. Our children are your children.  Our home is your home. Would you like something to drink? Are you hungry?"  That was two years ago. Just like it's hard for us to remember the first five years of our marriage before our son was born, it's hard for us to remember our lives before being a part of this family-- these parents, these children.  We've asked to be adopted.

"I am not yours, not lost in you. Not lost, though I long to be." When you take in "strangers' children" you risk getting lost. You risk allowing your emotions to get lost in theirs until there is no difference, no separation.  When he hurts, you hurt. When he laughs, you laugh. When he cries, you cry.  So you learn to not only risk getting lost,  but to embrace it. "It's hard what we do", she said, "but I wouldn't have it any other way."