Sunday, March 28, 2010

FAQ

Twice this weekend, people who know me but don't know what my "deal" is, have approached, asking about the kids. Not sure what the lady at church thought exactly, or was thinking I guess, when she said: I thought you were just bringing different nieces and nephews to church with you. (every week? every race? for 2 1/2 years?) They are well-intentioned, of course. And curious. And I am happy to be the spokeswoman for what a great experience this has been. But inevitably, and I know it's coming before they get the words out, I get the #1 most frequently asked question: Isn't it hard to let them go?

I have been asked this question by people in the grocery store, people at church, at school, at work, pretty much anywhere. The super short pat answer is "yes." Dear Abby would surely have a snappy comeback to give me. But the truth of the matter is this:

Letting kids go--no matter how long they stayed, no matter what I thought "might" happen, no matter how right the next stop for them feels in my bones--hurts beyond hurt. It hurts 1 month, 3 months, 4 months later. When a certain song comes on the radio, or a certain phrase comes out of Curly's mouth. When I pull out the bin of 3Ts that Little Bit wore that Sister can now fit. When I find beads from Bug's hair underneath what was once her bed. When I celebrate annual holidays with new kids and floods of memories of the "old kids" come back. My swiss cheese of a heart aches all the way to my toes. Each kid has crept in so snuggly, changed the core of who I am, of what I enjoy, of how I look at things. So yes, letting them go is horribly difficult, and emotionally wearing, and yeah, maybe I won't be able to say goodbye too many more times.

But then ask me why I do it? Thankfully, there is so much more to fostering than saying goodbye. There is saying hello, you are safe, I love you, we want the same thing, you are an amazing kid, you make me smile. There is going to the same park with 15 different kids and finding out what each one's favorite is. There is watching my friends love on each kid differently and sometimes the same. There is seeing how a community comes together in support of foster kids and their families. There is developing routines and little traditions that may last 2 months or 11 months or more. There is learning what makes a kid tick, what makes them smile, what makes them cry, and what makes them squeal with joy. There is the journey as a whole, which in my mind (and I often have to repeat this to convince myself), outweighs the goodbye at the end of the trip.

1 comment:

Alison Randall said...

I've been really behind on your blog (and mine) but this post is beautiful. Those of us who are lucky enough to ride your roller coaster from the sidelines miss your kids when they leave, too. But we sure love playing with and loving them in the meantime!