Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Beautiful, Dangerous, Hopeful

Mama.

What a beautiful word.  It pours from your lips over and over again.  Your first word.  My heart overflows with unspeakable joy.  Pudgy hands touch my face.  You press your forehead against mine.  You back up, look into my eyes, then pull my face in close to kiss me.  The heart has the ability to love deeper than I ever knew.  This is beauty.

Mama.

What a dangerous word.  You see, I am your Foster Mama.  But in my heart of hearts, I know we belong together.  I feel it when you reach for me.  I see it in your smile that reflects my own.  There is no way to guard yourself when a child calls you Mama.  It weaves your hearts together into one fabric which can only be separated through the most painful of ripping.  A ripping I have felt before.  This is danger.

Mama.

What a hopeful word.  For a foster mama, life is one of waiting.  Court dates.  Family conferences.  Birth parent visits.  Each one is hard.  Each is a reminder that I am not your Mama.  Constantly on my lips are prayers for you to become my forever child.  I long for the day you call me Mama and it is true.  This is hope.

Mama.

How do people do this without the Creator of Motherhood to hold them?  To mend their hearts when they are torn apart?  I am not strong.  I could never do this without Him.

Blessed be the name of the Lord for calling me to such a beautiful, dangerous, hopeful life - and then sustaining me in it.