If I Could Turn Back Time
Life changing events do not always announce themselves, do they? On the calendar that day, there was nothing penciled in saying "something big at 6pm." It was an ordinary end of December day. December 30, 2009, to be exact. Our teens were off with their youth group, our six year old was enjoying more alone time with us, and life was great. That would be the last day we shared like that.
Around 5:00pm, our phone rang. It was our county's Department of Social Services. I felt a combination of fear and excitement as I answered. My husband, Will, and I had taken classes in the Fall to foster children. We had three, were doing well, loved being parents, loved God, had the room and felt like, as Christians, it would be a great ministry for our family.
They give you a checklist of what you want to accept or not, when you license to foster. It feels like you are placing an order for a kid, but yet, it makes sense. If a child has history of violence, sexually acting out, you might want to pass, especially if you have children at home already. Check. Work a lot? Maybe not a newborn, because daycare won't accept them. I was a SAHM, homeschooling our three, so didn't check that one. Lots of experienced foster families say never accept a child older than your youngest. Check.
"We have three sisters, two still need a home, can you take them in? They are older than your youngest, but no one else will take them, and they are good kids." Didn't the check mean no calls if it wasn't a match? I had a ton of baby and little kid stuff. These girls were older than our youngest. "We are on our way."
And we lived happily ever after.
Not even close.
