Father of the fatherless

We approached the house after a walk when we saw that Matt was home early from work.  The girls yelled, “Daddy‘s home!” and ran ahead.  Punkin rocked back and forth in his stroller 

“Da, da, da.” 

By the time we got inside, Punkin was struggling to break free and get down.  He toddled as fast as he could into the open arms of the only daddy he knows.  Matt scooped him up, held him tight, and kissed his cheek. 

Many of us didn’t have the perfect daddy as children.  There were no arms to run to - they either held too much, were too cold, too brutal, or weren’t there at all.   Our idea of what a father should be was skewed, complicated, and painful. 

“A Father of the fatherless, and a defender of the widows, is God in His holy habitation.  God sets the only child in a house and He sends out prisoners into prosperity, and the rebels will dwell in the tombs.”
Psalm 68:5-6

Whether we had an earthly father to love us or not, God has proven since the beginning of time that He is, and has always been, the only Father we need.  We can look back over any point in our lives and find Him.  We can see Him holding us in our sorrow, protecting us when we thought we were alone, whispering for us to go on when we thought we couldn’t.  We had a Father all along. 

I watch my husband as he chases Punkin around the kitchen and grab him up while Punkin laughs uncontrollably.  I watch him grab that little hand as he starts to fall.  I watch as he takes him outside to find lizards.  I watch him follow the Lord’s example, and I‘m so grateful for what an amazing man he is in his willingness to love.  But, whether Punkin finds a forever daddy or not, I pray that he knows one day that he’s always had a Father.

God is the first and ultimate Father of the fatherless.  He is the first and ultimate Father of Punkin.  He is the first and ultimate Father of you.

Honesty

It’s been close to a month since Punkin’s come to live with our family.  It’s been one of the most difficult months of my life. 

I’ve come face-to-face with the ugly side of fostering.  Of course, it’s never pretty.  But, I know too much now.  I know there are really good people out there that are trying to fix a system that will probably stay broken.  Happy endings are rare.  Babies are beaten, toddlers are sexually abused.  Ugly.

I miss Beau and Baby.  I was never happier than when I was caring for them.  They were so easy to love.  They were too young to understand anything other than that I loved them completely.  Punkin didn’t have that luxury.  Raised in foster homes his entire life, even at his young age, he has grown to distrust and fear.  The first days he was with us were filled with constant crying.  He was separated from the only siblings he’d ever known, siblings he grew up with.  Everyone was gone.  Except us.  Strangers. 

For the first few weeks we had him, I didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning.  I would lie there, praying.  Begging God to please take this child from my house.  I don’t want this.  I want Beau back, I want Punkin to be with his forever family with his sisters.  And I feel so guilty.  I’m supposed to be there for these children, but now I’m praying for the happy ending that won’t happen.  I’m jaded and I want to quit.  So, what now?

I don’t know.  I wish I did.  I trust that God is in this.  I do.  But, I have no answers. 

So, maybe I wait.  I suck it up and love this child that looks at me like he wants nothing to do with me.  This child that hits and kicks and spits and does the exact opposite of what he knows he should. I love him in spite of how hard my life has become.  I love him because no one else does. 

And hope it’s enough.