Another sweet, smiley baby girl is heavy on my heart this morning. She's just about Seven's age. She has doting older siblings. She has a devoted Momma who has rocked her through her bumps and bruises and sang to her as she's drifted off to sleep. She has big blue eyes and curiosity.
And, through no fault of her own, she is very, very close to losing it all.
See, this baby girl is a foster child. Being "foster" doesn't mean she's any less loved. Quite the opposite. This baby girl has absolutely been loved on without end since the moment she was slipped into her Momma's arms--which happened to be at the hospital, when her life was measured still in mere hours.
But here's the part that you can never forget--foster does not mean forever in the eyes of social workers, lawyers, the judges.
Baby K is in danger of being ripped from the only home she has ever known. The hows and the whys don't matter. This is simply a case of legal mumbo jumbo taking precedent over what makes the most sense. This baby is not being returned to a biological mother or father who has worked hard to become a safe place. She is simply being shifted to an adoptive home where her biological sibling is no doubt a cherished addition to the family.
In other words, she is being taken from the siblings of her heart to grow up with the siblings of her genetic code. Which makes sense in many, many cases. But in this one?
Why? Why is this precious blessing being set up for hurt? Why is the system failing? Why has someone decided that Baby K is a piece of furniture that will look better in another room?
I don't know. But my heart tells me this is wrong. My heart tells me that God is not being honored in this decision. I want to scream at VGAL who has dropped the ball, rage at the judge whose lapse in understanding seems so dire. And I am not even this baby's Momma. I'm just a bystander.
Every time I bend down to sweep Seven from the floor lately, I think of Baby K. I watch my little girl kick and squeal when Logan walks by, trying to get his attention, and I think of Baby K. I lower her into her crib, drowsy from milk and sleep, and I think of Baby K.
Dear Lord, I pray that this baby will not wake up one day to find her whole world gone. I pray that she will not wonder why her Momma suddenly let her go. That she won't long for the arms that have held her safe and secure. Instead, I pray that she will have the gift of taking all these things for granted. That someday, she will have a moment of thinking her Momma didn't even want her. That she will be blessed with thinking her older brothers are pains. That she will be so loved, and so sure of it, that she can be flippant about the things that right now hang in the balance. Please Lord. Please.
Please pray for Baby K. Pray for the judge to have wisdom. For the social worker to be haunted by this baby girl's case. Pray that the other family looks beyond the blessing of a new baby falling in their laps and casts their eyes to the happiness of this little one. Pray that God moves mountains. Because He can. If Seven is anything, she is proof that He can, and He will. Pray this miracle for Baby K, I beg you.