I don’t think anything can prepare you for the first call. You can take the classes, fill out paper work for months, prepare your home and heart, but when the phone rings, everything stops.

The voice on the other end of the phone line was serious and matter of fact.

“Can you take a placement?”

In this moment the word placement seemed so sterile, so cold. We were talking about a child.

A warm little body whose life is about to be ripped apart from everything they know. There was no question of yes or no, but then she said, “What about two?” I pulled the phone from my chin and asked my husband, “Two?”

“It’s two. A boy and a girl.”

We had prayed for this moment. We knew the call was coming, but like anything it’s never like you think. It was late at night. Our other children were asleep and we had nothing ready.

I rushed upstairs to prepare beds and I prayed. Heart-thumping, I asked God to help them sleep through the night.

A couple hours passed and then the doorbell rang. There on the step was a social worker with a child wide-eyed and terrified.

My husband took the child in his arms and carried him upstairs. The social worker walked back to the car and here came the next one, asleep. I’ll never forget the weight of that child one my chest.

Head warm, arms wrapped around me, face smooth and dirty. This was real.

The child never woke as I pulled the covers up. The other one lay still like a statue with eyes that seemed to never blink. I got down eye to eye and I gave an assuring pat on the shoulder. “It’s going to be ok. You get to stay at my house tonight, ok?”

I saw a tiny nod.

“If you need anything, I’m right there in that big bed. You can come get me. Ok?” Another tiny nod and a gulp. Then a little tear barely made it’s way down his face.

My heart broke.

This is not how I imagined it. I thought it would be joyful and exciting to welcome a child into our home, but this was breaking my heart in a way I never ever dreamed.

I laid down in my bed, grasped hands tight with my husband and we sobbed.

We had been called to this foster care journey. We knew it was a God-thing. But it was uncharted territory.

That night we cried for their parents, for the children, for the situation that was so broken and bruised.

That first night changed us. It opened our eyes to the raw reality of the hurt that each child faces. Some will wake up tomorrow in a strangers home never knowing how they got there. Others will lie awake wide-eyed in a strange house wondering what they did to get there. And some will be so afraid all they can do is give a tiny nod and a stare that won’t dare blink.

I love foster care. Not because it’s easy and beautiful. But because it’s a journey God has directed us to walk. Every step is unknown. There is pain and there is joy, but through it all, God reminds us that love is always worth it.

There’s nothing like looking into those eyes the first night. Somehow God said, “It’s worth it.” For every joy and every pain in this broken world, it’s worth it for this one.

Love and give and cry.

So that’s what we’ve been doing. Loving and giving and lots of crying. Every wide-eyed foster child will look into someone’s eyes that first night. My prayer is that they would see eyes of love looking back at them.

If you’ve ever considered foster care, it’s one of the most amazing journeys ever. Hard, but amazing.

If you have questions or have ever wondered what it’s really like, I’m always open to talk about it.

And if you have a warm bed and a heart to hold a warm body who might not be used to being held, you might really find your niche.

The first night will change you forever. Promise.

If you can’t be a foster parent, love on one. Send a meal, say a prayer, or just offer a helping hand.

We need each other, all of us.

Love & Blessings,

Micah