Dear G...

I remember the first night I met you. You were so quiet and unsure about me and those loud kids that called me “Mom”. You ate the lasagna that I put in front of you while I sat next to you and listened to the family care manager tell me “your story.” It was a sad one, especially for one so young, and some of it made me nervous. I remember wondering if I would be able to love you as completely as you needed to be loved...without holding anything back. Just three weeks earlier I had said goodbye to two brothers that I had grown to love very much, and I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to handle that same kind of heartbreak so soon. Even though I knew that it was the nature of foster care, it didn’t make it any less painful, and I was afraid that there were walls already beginning to form around my heart. Very quickly, however, God reminded me of how much pain you had already endured, how scared you must have been, and, with His help, I realized that any pain I might experience would be worth it if you could experience the love of a family and, better yet, God’s love.

I’m going to be honest, G. Over the first few months, God had to remind me of that often. I mean, you were 2...and then you were 3, and you were testing our love in big ways. There were tears and temper tantrums (from both of us). I tried my best to treat you like you were one of my own, and, yes, I felt my love for you growing…but I wanted it to be easier. There were days when I felt mistreated by your biological parents, and I told God that it was unfair. I felt misunderstood and unappreciated. And each time I was ready to throw my hands in the air and quit, He reminded me of His grace and love for me and asked me to take what He gave me and give it to you…and to your parents. I knew I couldn’t do it on my own, but He was and is so faithful. He took my heart, and He grew it. He changed it. Because of Him, my love for you became deep and wide and something that you will never be able to understand...just like His love for us.

I love you. Oh, how I love you. I didn’t hold back one single piece of my heart from you. When I look at you and tell you, “I love you most”, I mean it. I would say that I’m not sure how it happened, but I am. You became a part of this family over the past year, and I want you to know that you always will be…even though you won’t be living in our home. Every one of us, along with many friends and family members, love you very much, and you will be taking a part of each of our hearts with you when you go. You are SO well loved, and I will pray that you always know that.

And, thank you for loving us. Thank you for letting us in to your heart and trusting us with your love. We can’t even imagine how hard it must have been for you. We know that you “very love us” and we don’t take that love for granted.

We will miss you. We will miss the way you sing through the house all day long ~ songs that you think you know all of the words to and songs that you made up on your own. You sing with such passion, and it makes me smile. We will miss your hugs and your kisses because, boy, do you know how to give them! We will miss your sweet, honest prayers. I loved hearing them, and I know that God did, too. We will miss your questions. Honestly. Even though the constant “why?” and “what happened?” often made us weary, we will miss it when we don’t hear it anymore. We will miss your laugh and the way you made us laugh. We will miss you. 
However, I want you to know that we are for your dad. We are praying for him and ready to help him in any way that we can. Even though his second chance with you means that we have to say good-bye, we know that truly loving others sometimes brings pain and always involves sacrifice. You are worth it. Your dad is worth it. Because of God’s love and mercy, we are all worth it. 

When we drive away from you on Wednesday, there will be many tears. Tears of sadness and, also, tears of joy. I truly believe you have taught me even more than I taught you, and I will forever be grateful for the year that I had the privilege of loving you and being your mama. 

I love you, G. You’re my most.