Support pours in, meals brought, new bins and boxes of clothes to borrow are dropped off on your doorstop those first several days. It's exciting to see so many people come together to love and support you and this precious child, harmed by those who were meant to protect, cherish and love.
Even as the initial excitement and support wanes, there is still great opportunity. There are not many other circles in your world where you are able to enter into the lives of drug addicts, abusers and truly broken, poor and desperate people. To love them is a challenge, but you're the type who likes a challenge and you know God is using this to grow, strengthen and mature you. You depend upon Him constantly as you love the child and love their family and love all the workers that enter your home and your life. You feel such a sense of purpose as you all work together towards a common goal - to get this child safely home.
And that day may come. And when it does you grieve and hurt. You throw yourself at the feet of Jesus knowing He comforts and heals the brokenhearted. You rest secure knowing that He says, "no labor of love is in vain." Friends and family come around you and offer encouragement and love. You ache, but scars form and you are better because of them. Soon... maybe... you'll be ready to open your heart and love in this real, raw and painful way once again.
But, that day may not come. The child may not be able to go "home" and the judge may declare that you are found to be the best permanent home and family. You rejoice because you have loved the child dearly. You have helped them heal through the trauma they entered your home with, you are deeply attached and you are suddenly given the opportunity to give the child - now a ward of the state - a permanent family, a new name, a place to belong and come home to for the rest of their life. You get to be a part of the Father's great plan to care for the fatherless and it feels glorious... almost heroic once again.
There is rejoicing and celebrating. Once again, friends surround you with love and support as your family grows. It is beautiful and exciting and the future looks so very bright.
And then, after a bit, real life sets in. Life gets hard and you skid feverishly fast from the mountaintop into the vast valley below. Suddenly, you are constantly walking the tightrope trying to figure out if new behaviors are the result of genetics, early trauma, some developmental issue, parenting issues. You become exhausted and weary as you manage behaviors, go through evaluations, talk to therapists and psychiatrists, developmental specialists. You are humbled as your child is politely, but decidedly, "kicked out" of many activities and classes because of their inability to function and their distraction to others. You desire relief. You feel defeated. Peace is completely disrupted in your home and relationships are strained. Though once strong and full of passion, weakness sets in. You may withdraw a bit, except for a few close friends, but you wonder if even they, as beloved as they are, really get it. You're afraid to say too much, for fear of misunderstanding, but you so desire support, love and encouragement as you seek to love this child God has placed in your family in such a magnificent way.
"Jesus, is this still serving You?" you ask with whimpering lips and a withered soul. It doesn't feel heroic anymore. The glorious moments have long faded.
And it is there that you feel, more than any other time in your life, God's wondrous love for you. "This is how I have loved you."
Ugly. Defiant. Obstinate. Out of control. Desperate. Helpless. Broken. And yet, I am loved.
Irresistibly. Uncontrollably. Unconditionally. Without fail. Never ending. I am loved.
"Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another."
John 13:34
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