07/30/2025
It always starts the same way.
A well-meaning conversation. A group of kind, lovely women. And somewhere in the mix, between the talk of toddlers and teething and Target finds, someone says it:
“Oh, I could never be a foster parent. I’d get too attached.”
“I wouldn’t want to give them back.”
“It takes a really strong person to do that.”
And I just smile. Because I can’t find the words. Because if I open my mouth, I might completely fall apart.
The truth is… we were just days away from saying goodbye to JJ. Our hearts already cracking. Our arms already aching. Our home already too quiet, even with her still in it. I stood there in that conversation, trying to breathe through the lump in my throat, and those words hit me like stones.
Do they think this is easy for me? Do they not see that I’m unraveling from the inside out? That I’m fighting back tears in conversations where laughter fills the air? Do they not realize I’ve already handed over my heart to a child I don’t get to keep?
She calls me mom-mom. She runs to my arms. She sleeps on my chest. And every fiber of my being wants to protect her, love her, raise her.
Do they not understand?
I’ve already attached. I’ve already loved her like she’s mine…even while knowing she never was. And now I have to let her go. And it feels like a part of me is being torn away with her.
I don’t foster because I’m strong. I foster because I’m called. And that calling? It shatters me over and over again. This isn’t some noble act of bravery, it’s surrender. It’s falling to my knees in the quiet, broken places and saying:
“Here I am, Lord. Send me.” (Isaiah 6:8)
Send me to rock the babies born into chaos. Send me to show up to courtrooms and case reviews when no one else will. Send me to love them fiercely, even when I know I’ll have to let go.
I get too attached.👏🏻 Every. 👏🏻 Single. 👏🏻 Time.
And I still say yes.
I say yes to sleepless nights and sticky fingers and court dates that feel like sentencing. I say yes to watching children I love leave with strangers, or with parents still learning how to be safe. I say yes to heartbreak, because they are worth it.
Please don’t tell me you couldn’t do it because you’d get too attached. That’s not a weakness. That’s the whole point.
Getting attached means they were loved.
Getting attached means they were safe.
Getting attached means that, for however long they were with you, they belonged. And don’t we all deserve that?
And on the days when the pain feels too big to bear, I cling to the only thing I know to be true: It’s not me holding this together, it’s Jesus. Because on my own? I am not strong enough. Not for a second. But He is.
He is strong enough to catch the tears I cry in silence.
Strong enough to hold the children I can no longer reach. Strong enough to carry me through the days when I feel like I won’t survive the goodbye.
So no… I’m not strong. I’m just willing.
And the willingness is where He meets me.
Over and over again, I whisper: “Here I am, Lord. Send me.”
And every time I say it, He shows up, faithful, steady, and full of grace. So if you’ve ever said, “I could never do foster care…”maybe that’s the very reason you should.
Because getting too attached?
That’s exactly what they need. 💔
