Livia came out of school empty-handed. Children had poured out of the building before her, one even proclaiming, “Look, I have four bags!” I could smell the steaming hot popcorn and knew she had taken a quarter to school to buy a bag on Spirit Day. When she finally appeared, empty-handed, she sadly explained that they ran out, and I couldn’t help but feel kind of angry towards the kid who got four bags while my kid got none.
Sometimes, oftentimes, always—life isn’t fair.
While my mama defenses were on high alert for this very small injustice, and while my hackles were raised, I knew in my heart that popcorn wasn’t a huge deal and Livia knew it, too. I can’t remember, but in all likelihood we probably went out and bought ice cream cones instead. It all worked out.
Still, I’ve been reflecting lately on how life really is not fair.
I’m going to hand our foster baby, this teeny small child of amazingness, to her future family on Sunday. (At least we’re all hoping they are indeed her future family. Fostering is never a sure thing; adoption is.) After waiting to adopt for over six years, after becoming foster parents, after praying and praying and praying and praying and praying, I am going to hand over this child that we brought home from the hospital last month.
Now, we knew what we were getting into. The situation was presented to us and we jumped in with both feet. We knew it was a short-term gig and we’ve explained it that way to everyone we’ve met along the way. We’ve met and genuinely like this baby’s future family and it’s been so good to be a support to her future parents. There is goodness, yes. Fairness? Yes. And no.
In my struggle to find fairness I look into this baby girl’s face and I’m reminded that life is absolutely not fair. Fair would mean she was born into a mother’s arms and could stay there forever. Fair would mean she’d have a mom who would call her sweetheart and soothe her when she cried and wipe her tears and bandage her knees when she trips and falls. Fair would mean a home that is safe, food that’s always on the table, and a childhood free from fear and worry.
This life is unfair. It’s hard. And sometimes I want to cry FOUL! from the rooftops and demand justice until I am satisfied and complain loudly and without pause because THIS IS NOT FAIR.
It hurts. Oh goodness, the unfairness hurts.
I took my little foster baby to my monthly mom’s group today and looked around the room knowing that every other mom there would still have their infants next month. Mine is a loaner. (Did you know you can laugh and cry at the same time? I highly recommend it.) While I was taking this little girl home from the hospital—an incredible privilege as we didn’t get to do so with Livia—I was doing it with the knowledge that I could not keep her, that she doesn’t belong to me.
Today I am sad, for many reasons. I’m sad that I can’t make babies and thus have to deal with the twists and turns of adoption and foster care. I’m sad that God hasn’t answered our prayers for children in the affirmative. I’m sad that we have to wait and wonder some more. I’m sad, deeply sad, that I can’t give my daughter a sibling. (There is great grief in this fact.) I’m sad my foster baby wasn’t born into a simple situation and I’m sad that her future family couldn’t take her right away. I’m even sad they have a longer road to walk before being able to adopt her.
A day is coming when all will be made right and the tears and sadness and general fist-shaking of this life will all fade away. Jesus will one day heal every wound and right every wrong. Would I look forward to heavenly glory if I didn’t experience injustice today? Probably not. Does the knowledge and expectation of heaven make me feel less pain right now? No. There is hope. There is beauty. But damn, sometimes the unfairness just plain sucks.
13 Comments
Renae Jan 10, 2013 6:43 PM
A deep sigh and a big hug, friend.
Sarah M Jan 10, 2013 7:02 PM
Oh the laugh-cry. I’ll take him any day over the sob-migrane-man. But, really, I don’t like either. I didn’t know this whole situation was temporary until this morning. I’m sorry for your hurt. Wish I could give you a hug.
SM
austina Jan 10, 2013 7:08 PM
Thanks for your kind and gracious hospitality as you give that little one a warm, safe, loving home, even if it is only temporary. May the Lord bless that sweet little one.
Bethany Jan 10, 2013 7:33 PM
Crying with you. hugs.
Lindsey Jan 10, 2013 7:36 PM
While I can’t and won’t pretend to empathize and understand, I am so so glad you write these posts. Some of it hit a little to close to home for me, as I’ve struggled over the past few years with still being a nanny. For many reasons, but the primary, looming one, being that I fall in love with these babies. Their care consumes my life, and then at some point, I have to say goodbye. And I wonder how I can pretend this is normal and not flinch when (well-meaning) people ask me “so, do you love the kids you take care of? I mean, you’re not their mom, so …” And then I wonder if I’ll ever get married, have my own family, my own kids, or if the extent of my childcare days is with and for other families. I would love to be a foster parent one day. I think perhaps I could cope with the knowledge that it would never happen rather having to deal with the unknowing, the waiting, dear God, the HOPING.
Many hugs to the Tredway family, in whatever number you may be :)
Joie Meador Jan 10, 2013 7:56 PM
Hugs. I love you and as I sat next to you this morning I could only look at her precious little face and feel so thankful that she had YOU these last few weeks to love her and cuddle her and keep her warm. Dear friend, though God hasn’t ordained her to be a Tredway and right your wrong, you have been part of God’s justice for her, in the story of her little life, you are at its beginnings providing the love that she needs to grow. Beautiful and painful. Thank you for enduring this cross on her behalf. She will never know and in that way you have been Christ to her. This story dear friend, is among those Eric talked about. The “ordinary” stories of faithfulness. I love you.
tasha ourada Jan 10, 2013 7:58 PM
love you friend
Andy Jan 10, 2013 8:33 PM
Thoughtful and heart-filled. Thinking of you guys from RI.
Tara Jan 10, 2013 9:13 PM
oh goodness. thank you for pouring out here. i echo joie’s words completely. your story is painful and quite seemingly unfair…and we all watch as it unfolds and displays your beautiful heart and your longing for Jesus, and points us ever towards the great righting of the brokenness. love you and i feel honored to be your friend. and i will continue to pray and ASK on your behalf, knowing your story and His glory in all of this are far from over.
Crystal Jan 10, 2013 10:13 PM
What a blessing, thank you for sharing!
Jen Jan 11, 2013 8:05 AM
Love you, Rebecca. I am grieved by the injustice, but encouraged that you have entered into the hard places to bring hope to a tiny little person’s life. Thank you.
Trudy Jan 11, 2013 11:28 AM
It was so beautiful to watch the other night as your family loved & cared for that sweet precious girl. He has been present in every detail. God has such great plans for your dear family. I’m sorry that the journey is so hard & filled with much heartache. Thank you for sharing your heart. This was really beautiful! Praying for you dear friend. HUGS!
hope Jan 12, 2013 6:04 PM
RT yes yes we are all standing on our tip-toes screaming as loud as possible “Its not fair”!! Not fair on so many levels. That I get to make a baby in my own bed with my husband, give birth and take them home from the hospital (!), not fair. I ache for you and have fought for you in prayer over this one. I keep thinking of this verse Isaiah 30:18, “Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you, and therefore He exalts Himself to show mercy to you. The Lord is a God of JUSTICE; blessed are all those who wait for Him.” I keep asking Him to be JUST to you and JT (no not justin Timberlake). That while you guys (or anyone of us) don’t deserve justice (or fairness) you are hidden in Jesus, tucked into His Son’s pocket. So on behalf of Jesus I am praying that God will be just to you and give you guys another child, a sibling for liv, an answer to all our begging and praying. That yes heaven heals all wounds, but God brings healing justice into His world all the time- your turn sis, your turn.