Nine

We have been licensed in foster care for 8 months, but just got our first 'call' today.  The call that I have been wondering about.  The one that says there is a child and he has a need for a home.  She described him as sweet, a good student, kind.  All the buzz words that should 'sell' him.

But the truth is, he already had a place here.  Without a doubt, this is the boy who God was preparing a place for in our home.  His place was ready.......we just didn't know it.

The caseworker picked him up from school and brought him 'home'.  All day I prayed and wondered and worried about a little boy who must be overwhelmed with fear.  How scary to go to a new home, new people, new bed.  It just really must suck- to put it blunt.

He arrived with his belongings stacked neatly in tied up plastic grocery bags and one giant paper handled sack.  His chapstick, a lanyard, some books, his clothes, shoes that have seen better days and lots of hoodie sweatshirts.  And a basketball.  A sure tell sign that the boy in him is alive and well- just waiting for a time to play.

This burden, the one piled on his tiny 9 year old shoulders, is more than I can even begin to comprehend.  He has bright eyes, beautiful hair, he is a fabulous speller with amazing penmanship.  Yet in his eyes there is something distant, something far away.  Probably something that has allowed him to be the adult for his little siblings in a home where  mom refused to step up to the plate.

Nine.

It isn't fair.  For him I am grieving, literally my soul is crying out to God begging Him to let this little man out of the injustice that has been heaped shoulder high on this young man.  Truly, this little boy.   Crying out for the tools and the compassion and the heart for our home that can receive him right where he is and love him well.  And maybe, just maybe, that he could love us too.

We choose to stand in this gap.  The one between where his parents are, and where they should be.  And it is my hope, my deepest and desperate prayer, that his mom can rise above out of the ashes that have been created by bad choices and a desperate need of the Savior.  That she can lay down herself in order to mother this boy well.  And until then, we will stand with him.  And wait.

And we will, without any uncertainty, remove those barbie dolls left by the girls in our bathtub.  He won't be needing those : )