He was only in my home a few months. He probably doesn't even remember who I am. He was just a baby. Today, he's all grown up with a family of his own. But, he still and will forever hold a special place in my heart. His name is Michael.
Yesterday, tragedy struck. A home fire claimed the life of his 3 year old son and his 4 month old daughter, with his middle child and girlfriend still fighting for their lives. And my heart is broken. I am grieving the loss of two children I never met. Two children I will never meet this side of Heaven. Two children I consider my foster grandbabies. I'm concerned for a child and his mother and am constantly praying for their healing. I haven't seen Michael since he was a baby...but my love for him is every bit as strong as it was 20+ years ago. My love for his girlfriend and their children is every bit as strong as if they were biologically related to me!
Foster children have a way of crawling into your heart and staying there forever. Even if they are with you just a few days or months. Even when going home is best. Especially when they stay years. Especially when you fear them going back home. I am not a foster parent because I have some super natural ability to not get attached to the kids who enter my home. I am every bit as attached to every single one as if I had given birth to them myself. I wouldn't be a very good foster mom if I didn't. And that attachment doesn't end just because a judge says my time to parent them is over. I grieve the loss and hold them in my heart forever. I pray for them when they come to mind. My heart longs to find them someday. Some, I've been blessed enough to be able to reconnect...at least through Facebook. Michael is one of those. He doesn't remember me, and that's ok, but I remember him and I love him & his family. I remember those big blue eyes full of innocence looking to me for love and support and his head snuggled in my arms. Those big blues are still there, and all three of his children were graced with them as well, but the innocence has been lost. He's known more than his fair share of heartaches in his life.
He doesn't remember my arms cradling him or my lips kissing his sweet cheeks. If not for his older sister, he wouldn't even remember my name or that I even existed. But that's ok. He's still my baby and I still love him. And I will ask family and friends to love on him. And I will do all I can to help him in his time of great need. Because, well, I got attached. And I never lost that attachment. Never.
