Let me tell you what love looks like. Love looks like whole heartedly scooping someone into your world to offer them their first taste of safety - knowing that time, or needs, or choices will take them away from you - and your courage holds no part of you back.
Love does not cling. Does not give itself out of need for affirmation or congratulations.
Love leaves a hole when its object outgrows circumstances.
Today, in particular, love looks like parenting. And, in even more particular, it looks like foster parenting.
Love means arms will be lonely when children move to their next reality. Tears will fall over the smell of them in the house. Love cherishes what others see as too much work at too high risk.
Love is grieving deeply at my parents’ house. The foster kids they sheltered have moved into a long term placement. This grief is compounded by other griefs and losses.
I wish I could take the pain away. But to do that, I’d have to fundamentally change who my parents are - and the world, and my siblings, and the fostered littles, and all the people who’ve found shelter there would not have what we have.
