At My Door

Proverbs 3:27-28 

Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due,
when it is in your power to do it. 

Do not say to your neighbor, "Go and come again,
tomorrow I will give it - when you have it with you.

I answered the door, anticipating their arrival based on a phone call just a hour or so before.  Even before they fully stepped foot in our home I was assaulted with the strong smell of urine, smoke, and filth.  The younger one had pants that were soiled through.  Both came in and began a frantic running in circles, jumping on couches, grabbing whatever they could find.  Our son and daughter corralled them and brought them back to the entry rug where we took off shoes and made formal introductions with the help of the child protection investigative workers who brought them.  Grabbing the necessary supplies to change the younger one into clean pants, I made quick introductions to all of our children and ushered them down to the play room so that I could hear a summary of the situation from the investigative worker without the children needing to listen to details of their parent's arrest just hours before.

As I listened to the laundry list of grievances of neglect, abuse, and drug use I felt sick to my stomach knowing the impact of trauma on children. And then I felt dread realizing that I had welcomed into my home for an extended length of time children who's view of right and wrong had been so terribly compromised.  Even as the investigative worker talked I mentally calculated the hours in the day and how I would need to make sure these children had direct supervision, not leaving them alone to play with younger children in our home.  The case file the worker read from was thick.  This had not been their first or second time in the custody of child protection.  With every member of the family I learned about, the web of abuse and neglect and legal accusations grew.  I wondered how they had managed to be reunited in the past when the family trauma was so deeply rooted and entrenched.

It was close to supper time and the kids needed baths.  Multiple baths.  It was the kind of filth and odor that doesn't come out after just one scrubbing.  And then there was the matter of clothing.  Prior to the doorbell ringing I had no idea of the kids names much less their clothing sizes or if they were potty trained.  Several texts flew back and forth between my husband and I as he scrambled to buy the necessary clothing they would need before bed tonight - pjs, under wear, socks, clothing for the morning.  They came with nothing but the filthy clothes they were wearing and a large fabric bag from a local church containing soap, tooth paste, a tooth brush, a few toys, a blanket and stuffed animal for comfort items.  These bags are such a blessing and help kids transition in such a difficult time as well as helping our family provide for these immediate needs.

Supper time was wild.  There was crying.  There was refusing to eat.  There was spilled milk.  And more spilled milk.  Even bigger than the milk that was spilled, there was grace that was poured out over all of it.  There was lots of patience and hand holding and helping going on around the table.  There were big kids and middle kids and little kids loving on these precious children whose lives had been so upset just hours before.  Foster care truly is a family ministry, a pouring out of grace on those in need.

I expected bedtime would be rough, being in a strange home and a strange bed, separated from parents, not knowing what comes next in the morning.  In our experience, that first night can be so traumatic for kids and their responses at bedtime can be pretty intense.  I cancelled my evening plans to meet a friend for a book study and coffee, knowing we would need all hands on deck to cover tonight's bedtime.  After all the scrubbing and playing in the bath, brushing teeth and getting into pjs that were close to the right size, we tucked these precious kids into bed and sang and prayed over them.  Before we even said "Amen" they were sound asleep.  

The house was quiet and the whirlwind of their arrival had settled down.  My heart grieved over what these children had already endured in their young lives.  My heart rejoiced over watching God's grace at work in and through our own children who have endured so much.  To see our children love others who are hurting was indeed a confirmation of their own healing and growth.  To be able to be for these precious children a place of calm and comfort in the midst of their storm confirmed our purpose in foster care as a family ministry.  To be stretched and a bit uncomfortable, to have our evening plans set aside, to frantically gather needed supplies and dedicate our time and efforts to helping these two little ones, it was worth it to see them peacefully at rest tucked into bed after the turmoil of their day.  It was worth it.  Because these precious lives matter to God it was worth it. Because of Proverbs 3:27-28 it was worth it.