Overwhelmed. Afraid. Lonely. Inadequate. All of these words describe the feelings of a foster mother, especially one who has never been a parent before.
God blessed me with the gift of motherhood in a completely unexpected way—through caring for another woman’s children. After my husband and I had been married for a couple of years, we did what most couples do. We began trying to grow our family by attempting to conceive biological children. But when infertility posed a threat to these dreams, we prayed about what to do with our desire to raise children.
The church we were attending at the time hosted an annual conference for foster and adoptive parents, so we attended to learn more and see if God might tell us our next steps. The day-long event was like drinking water from a fire hose. We left with information we could never unlearn—namely, that foster care in our nation, our state, and our town was (and still is) an emergent crisis.
Moments after pulling away from the parking lot, my husband and I both said to one another, “I think we are supposed to pursue foster care.” It was a moment I’ll never forget—threaded with the holiness of a God who spoke to both of us as individuals yet brought us together as one, as he so sweetly does in marriage.
The starry-eyed days of anticipating what it would be like to bring children into our home were short-lived. When our first placement of three siblings walked through our doors, all we could think about was how ill-prepared we were to take on the seemingly insurmountable task of caring for children from hard places.
But isn’t that just like God? To give us way more than we can handle when we are sure that we have just what we need to be able to “do a good job?”
My husband and I believed we were well-equipped to love and care for children from hard places. I was a former elementary school teacher. We both worked in ministry. We grew up in church. A community of supportive friends and family surrounded us. And we were quite certain our love, and that of our Savior, would be enough for even the deepest of wounds. Yet we had so much to learn.
As I consider the call to foster, I think of the life of Moses. Children in foster care share many of the same heart wounds as Moses, an adopted child. Consider this—Moses was taken out of the water and given a home with people who were not his biological relatives. When he could no longer deny his true Hebrew heritage, he killed an Egyptian overseer and ran away from all that he knew. In a mundane moment of his new life, God appears to him in a burning bush, declaring a great purpose to free the Hebrews that will be fulfilled through Moses.
On paper, it all makes sense, doesn’t it? Moses is a Hebrew who knows the intricacies of Pharaoh’s household and rule. Who better than him to bring freedom to those held captive by Pharaoh’s cruel hands? But the years Moses spent in Egypt are but a distant memory, and the fear that grips his heart is more real to him than the power of an almighty God.
But Moses replied in the LORD’s presence, “Since I am such a poor speaker, how will Pharaoh listen to me?”
The LORD answered Moses, “See, I have made you like God to Pharaoh, and Aaron your brother will be your prophet. You must say whatever I command you; then Aaron your brother must declare it to Pharaoh so that he will let the Israelites go from his land. But I will harden Pharaoh’s heart and multiply my signs and wonders in the land of Egypt. Pharaoh will not listen to you, but I will put my hand into Egypt and bring the military divisions of my people the Israelites out of the land of Egypt by great acts of judgment.”
Exodus 6:30–7:4 CSB
When Moses questioned his inadequacy in light of the great task before him, God warned him that Pharaoh would not listen to him. In God’s mercy, he gave Moses his brother Aaron as a mouthpiece. Moses accepted the call of God and went to Pharaoh, but it wasn’t without a great deal of fear, trembling, hesitation, and excuses. Was he less obedient because he was afraid? Was his ministry discounted because he questioned God?
The sweet anticipation of welcoming children into your home as a foster parent is quickly eclipsed by the fears of the future, and there are many. The greatest unknown we face is this: Will these children ever truly know the love of their heavenly Father after living through hell on earth?
In his response to Moses’s questioning, God says,
“The Egyptians will know that I am the LORD when I stretch out my hand against Egypt and bring out the Israelites from among them.”
Exodus 7:5–7 CSB
So Moses and Aaron did this; they did just as the LORD commanded them. Moses was eighty years old and Aaron eighty-three when they spoke to Pharaoh.
This is what we know as foster parents: One day, all will know that our God is Lord of all (Philippians 2:9–11). Whether we are thirty-three or eighty-three, when we say yes to God, we can know this for certain: He will glorify himself through our obedience. Yes, we are inadequate. But our God is sufficient for all things. And when we trust him with our questioning, doubts, and longing, the children we care for will see him, even if we never see the fruit of the seeds we sow. His ability to work all things together for good (Romans 8:28) includes the most broken parts of our world—even hearts broken through the trauma of foster care.
While we would like to comfort ourselves when parenting our biological children with the illusion of control because they came to us naturally, the truth is that the future is unknown, no matter how our children come to us. The roller coaster of emotions we ride through foster care is intense–there are constant questions and doubts that niggle at the back of your mind as you wonder, “How long will they be with us?” and “Will their mother be able to find healing?” and “God, why did you allow so much pain and suffering in these young lives?”
Corrie ten Boom, famous author of The Hiding Place, hid Jewish families in her apartment for years while protesting the evil Nazi rule. She wrote, “Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.” The truth of our difficult circumstances often yells at us, telling us fear is our only option. But the gentle and quiet whisper of our God reminds us that he is with us, he is for us, and he is not against us (Joshua 1:9; Isaiah 54:17; Romans 8:31). We can trust Him in all things. So when the future looks bleak, remember that it is in the hands of a mighty God. And remember, friend, you are held in his hands too.
Application Questions
- As you consider your unknown circumstances, where are you struggling to trust God? Take time to tell God how you are feeling and share your worries with him. He is listening.
- Think of the ways God has shown up for you in the past. Knowing his track record of faithfulness, will you trust him to do the same again?
Photo credit: Jenna Martin
Jessica Mathisen lives just outside of Atlanta, Georgia with her husband and three kids. She is a former elementary school teacher and a lover of people. As a writer and speaker, her passion is to communicate God's love to others through words and relationships. Her favorite things are hanging with her family, eating chips and salsa, and reading good books. You can learn more about her atJessicaNMathisen.com, read her children’s book,No Matter Where I Go, and follow her onInstagram.
