10/31/2025
People say, “At least you got them at birth. They came with a clean slate.”
That is a lie.
Trauma comes anyway.
Even on the first breath.
You give love. Safety. Devotion.
You think that will be enough.
Sometimes it is.
Sometimes it isn’t.
Every child carries losses they never chose.
Losses that whisper in the quiet.
Losses that explode in fear, in anger, in testing the limits of your love.
They push. They pull.
They make you doubt yourself.
They make you look to God and ask why.
Parenting here is showing up. Every day.
It is listening when there are no words.
It is learning when every answer feels wrong.
It is walking hand in hand with them through pain,
through every shadow of their past,
even into adulthood, when the questions come and there are no easy answers.
Love in this space is fierce. Christlike.
Gritty. Raw. Beautiful.
Patient but never passive.
Present, even when your heart aches.
Unwavering, even when the world doubts you.
It holds space for what was lost
while guiding what can be healed.
Trauma comes anyway.
It arrives in whispers and in screams.
It tries to claim them.
To define them.
But so does grace.
So does steadfast love.
So does your presence.
Never leaving. Never giving up. Standing firm through it all.
This is what love looks like in foster care and adoption.
Raw. Real. Messy. Sacred.
Love that fights with every ounce of your being.
Love that trusts God with what you cannot fix.
Love that refuses to let trauma have the final word.
This is hope.
Not in perfection.
Not in smooth stories.
Not in celebrations online.
But in the quiet moments.
The sleepless nights.
The whispered prayers when no one is watching.
Love that stays. Love that heals. Love that never quits.
