And like that, they are gone.

That was my husband's Facebook status update this past Tuesday.  That's about how it went too.  

We knew the kids would be leaving to go home soon, but when I took them to court for their bio-dad's court date on Tuesday, I had expected to leave with them in tow, for Grant to come home to dinner as the four of us for one of our last dinners together.  Instead, the judge ruled that they be returned home immediately.  I kissed the babies on the steps of the court house and walked back to the car stifling sobs. 

 I wanted to run back inside and shake the judge- doesn't she know that she is making a decision about people's LIVES?  Shouldn't the kids be given a chance to be told they would be leaving?  To see us packing their stuff so that they can process this a little bit?  They have to transition too!  And their dad, had he made plans for childcare?  Gone to the grocery store?  He'd need to have medicare switched into his name and he didn't even have the kids' medication because I'd not packed it.  Has the judge even considered this?!  Why is her demeanor so apathetic??  I know she lives in a tiny hick town, but she knows this isn't a decision regarding acquisition of cattle, right?!

I waited until we (my case worker and I) were back in town to call my poor husband who was waiting on pins and needles to hear the ruling.  We both knew they'd go home soon, but had been talked to about a thirty-day trial period, a two-week transition period...never once had the idea of a hand off at court been mentioned.  I hated having to share the news with Grant.  Having to tell him they were gone was absolutely terrible.  He'd not gotten a proper goodbye and my heart broke for him.  

But this is kind of how it goes, right?  Foster parenting?  You love and give until it hurts and then if all goes successfully, a healthy reunification occurs and you hurt again- only this time it's a hollow kind of hurt; the goodbye kind.  So, really, as Grant recently pointed out, we're doing it right, if it hurts this badly.  We've been called to a job in which success is measured by the depths of our hurt.  If we were not feeling the pain or longing we do now for the babies we gave our whole hearts to, we'd have truly failed them- because they deserve to be loved FULLY.  

I recently read a memoir of woman who'd hiked the Pacific Coast Trail and she spoke of her battered, toenail-less feet with disdain, but also with pride.  That's kind of how I feel right now of my depleted state.  The wounds we've sustained aren't visible (I've been really intentional about under-eye cream before bed lately.), but gracious do we feel them. If I were a foot right now I'd be a few toes short and rubbed raw from this way we've been walking.  It evokes a small sense of pride though- that we're still standing and will continue on this journey.  But may God be glorified even in our battered, raw, broken state. 

 Because when we are weak, He is strong.  

When I am weak, He is strong.  

When I am weak, He is strong. 

I have to keep reminding myself of this.  I KNOW we are here, as a married couple, still faithful to the Lord and to one another because of His providence and his guidance and strength- not because of anything we have to offer (though we've found that wit and sarcasm can carry one a great length).  He is ever strong, ever faithful, ever good.  Always good.

Already we've received four five calls (just got another) asking if we're able to take new placements.  I've not thought twice about saying no.  At one time it may have been more difficult  turning them away, but not right now. We'll continue to foster and look forward to it, but we've got to ride this hurt our right now.  And then, in a few weeks time, more kids will be put into our care- just as quickly as the others left.