In January of this year, we returned home from a trip. We walked out of our front door to go to lunch together and my husband noticed our 74-year-old neighbors building a baby stroller. Perplexed by the sight, he walked over to offer to help and, in the car seat was the most precious, beautiful, six-week-old baby boy we have ever laid our eyes on. He was their great nephew and was with them until a family was available for eventual adoption.
We were in immediate love with Noah, and knew he was the answer to our – and hundreds of friends’ – prayers. I was no longer guarding my heart from disappointment, but instead overflowing with gratitude for this boy and God’s Providence. Now we could face the dehumanizing foster-care system that is all-too-often focused on adults at the expense of children because it was to protect our dear Noah from harm.
John and I raced through the classes, applications, and other requirements to become certified foster parents and Noah was placed with us less than three months later; two days before Palm Sunday – a most remarkable way to enter Holy Week and a fitting time to reflect on what was to come….