…But Good

So, we are fostering.

And we love it.

Love. It.

And we could have missed out. Had we played it safe. Had we given any significant weight to the worries of “what if.”

What if we get a baby that cries all night long? Every night? For a long, long time?

What if we get a baby that is sick? And requires hospitalization? Continually?

What if we get a baby that we love? And we invest our hearts? And that baby leaves us?

What if we get a baby that has been sexually abused? And is damaged beyond repair?

What if we get a baby that is addicted? And is damaged beyond repair?

What if we get a baby that is beaten and bruised? And is damaged beyond repair?

What if we get a baby that has been neglected? And is damaged beyond repair?

What if we get a baby that is damaged?  Beyond repair?

And the honest answer is. So what? I mean, what else am I doing? I figure I’m 43…that’s about midway through this journey. Have I got something better to do? Is there something more important? Granted, I’ve lived, loved, and grieved more than the average…American (ridiculously pampered creatures that we are)…and I think it has given me clear vision of the liberating truth…nothing is guaranteed. Nothing. And there is such freedom is risking it all…throwing caution…not to the wind…but to hope.

What are you saving your heart for anyway? Do you think you will make it through life with no heartache? If you do, I guarantee, your life will have been sad and lonely…but safe.

And like Aslan, life truly lived to the full is not safe. But it is good.

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