In limbo.

In limbo.


People often ask, “How long will Big D be with you?”

The answer of course affects everything. School. Work. Home.

My best guess is one day or hundreds. That might seem dramatic, but it’s reality. Any day the boys could be sent home. And any day, home could no longer be an option.

And so we search for schools where he might attend for a week or several years. We buy tickets for trips anticipating two or three passengers. We look at houses considering if we need two bedrooms or three.

We live here. Not knowing what tomorrow brings.

To some degree, we all live here. Disasters and diseases don’t give warnings.

But in foster care, the uncertainty of everyday is front and center. Reminding us on no uncertain terms that everything is in limbo.

We still have to guess. To make plans for holidays and set budgets for expenses.

The ambiguity hangs heavy.

In many ways, we can’t go all in. We can’t pretend as if we are Big D’s home, because he still hopes we won’t be. He still hopes for his mom’s home.

But in other ways, we are already in. We love and cherish and delight in him like a son. And there’s no turning back on that.

So we learn to live and love in this in-between space. Trying not to be paralyzed by indecision. Praying for either answers or patience to come quickly. Knowing that none of this is lost on our eleven year old foster son.

He feels it a hundred times more than we do.

Because one of these days, his whole world will change. One way or the other.

And because he’s eleven. When you’ve only lived eleven years, every year feels long. Every day feels big.

So every day, we keep guessing, keep going.

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