It's been one month since our little foster baby went to live with his grandmother. It still feels like a piece of me is missing. For those of you who don't know, he is different than the other foster children because we were trying to adopt him and thought that we were going to be able to. We brought him home from the hospital at birth and it wasn't until about 7 months old that we were told anyone from his family wanted him. By 10 months old, he was gone. One of the hardest parts has been not being able to get any updates on him. He had tests scheduled, that I scheduled, and now I can't know the results. The family had told CPS they would let us have contact, but now that they have custody of him they have evidently changed their minds because they have refused any contact so far. We decided to take a two month break before we take in more foster babies. And then I am only going to take girls for a little while because I can't bear to put his old clothes on another little boy. I have been writing my prayers in a journal and that does seem to help. I flew home to see my family and friends. I am taking my time in packing his things away and transitioning the nursery from his nursery back into a foster nursery. But we know that God has called us to foster. We can't not do it. He would not have lived if he had not come into foster care. And I know there are other children in the same situation.
"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."