In Light of Eternity

I heard a broadcast a while ago about how your parenting changes if you shift your focus from parenting in-the-moment to parenting in the light of eternity.  The idea is we need to consider how every child has an eternal soul.  We’re not just parenting to get them through potty training or the terrible two’s; we’re parenting to help facilitate this short, temporary phase of their lives on earth into their everlasting existence in heaven.  As a foster parent, this one concept has been a source of comfort and also a well of deeper questioning.

I think about these children moving on someday.  They are young enough that if and when reunification happens, they won’t remember us.  These children who we’ve considered family and who’ve made such an impact on our lives… won’t remember us.  When people ask what I’ve been up to lately, it’s parenting these babies.  I put my career on hold, took on my most feared position of stay-at-home mom, and loved them as fiercely as my own.  To put it succinctly, these children are my life.

We’re in a long-term placement, and we’ve never met the parents of our foster children.  They don’t know us beyond the handwritten notes and photos we send on visits.  They’ve never seen our faces and don’t know our names.  When the children go home, all memory of us will fade, and there will be no one to speak our name or share the simple fact that we loved them.

It’s weird to think that someone who considers me mom might also be someone I never see or hear from again.  My foster daughter will be a teen someday, and she’ll never know there’s a family out there thinking of her on her birthday.  Someday she’ll get married and have a job and kids of her own.  We’d be lucky to even hear about any of it.

As strange as it is to imagine a future apart from them, I’m not parenting so they’ll remember me.  I’m parenting to meet present needs, and I’m parenting in light of eternity.  There is a purpose in what I do for the here and now.  If I’m only around long enough to get a newborn through withdrawals, I’ve succeeded.  If I get them through the first year and all the brain development that happens in those first 365 days of life, I’ve succeeded.  If they were only with me for 10 days and in those 10 days, they were warm and their stomachs full, I’ve succeeded.

The more difficult question I had to grapple with is how can I parent in light of eternity as a foster parent when my role is temporary and short-lived?  I won’t be around, like I will be for my biological children, when they wonder if their life matters or when they face truly difficult life decisions.  How can I parent in light of eternity when I only have now and that now might only last a few months, a year, two?

I think I’ve come to realize that love is one of those eternal God things.  I can be part of someone’s life temporarily and in that short span of time, I can reflect a love that lasts, a love that is beyond me and my earthly ability to give.  I can showcase God’s heart for these little ones, and that, in and of itself, is a worthy goal.  One of the greatest gifts I can give is a selfless, unconditional love… and that matters.  It makes a difference.  It lasts.

I might not be there to watch them get on the bus on their first day of school.  I might not see them lose their first tooth or cheer them on at Little League.  Tomorrow or next month or a year from now might be the last time I’ll ever see them.  But in light of eternity, I’ll have imparted something everlasting, something only God can give.  I’ll have loved.