Early in 2023, we reached out to social services about becoming foster parents. It was a long process involving classes, background checks, multiple visitors in our home, and many questions about our marriage and parenting style. Over the many months, we continued to simply take the next step to see where it would lead. A few times along the way we second-guessed ourselves and decided not to do it. Then we’d hear a story about a child who felt love for the first time from their foster parents. Through our tears, we’d decided again that we’ve GOT to do it. A short time after being approved as foster parents we are driving down I-95 and get a call asking if we can take an infant for care. We could and we did. She’s tiny and sweet and she has the sleep schedule of a typical infant. We constantly tell her that she is safe and that she is loved. We’re rooting for the parents to get her back as soon as possible, but in the meantime, we’re going to shower her with as much love and care as we can.
So there I was, holding and bouncing a tiny human trying to calm her during a particularly fussy afternoon. Lianne is amazing with babies and, as always, she’s doing most of the work, but sometimes I pitch in. This was one of those times. I sang to her, going through my extensive repertoire of children’s songs. I realized that some of them are shockingly violent like the baby and cradle falling out of a tree during a hurricane or something. Not to mention the poor lady who ate a fly which led to a disastrous series of choices that ended in her ghastly demise.
Fortunately, not all children’s songs are that macabre. There are mind-numbing ditties about farmers and buckets, with dozens of verses that circle endlessly around a nonsensical theme. There are also sweet lullabies and even some children’s songs that are surprisingly meaningful. I hit upon one of those by chance, walking through our dining room and singing softly to a drowsy, beautiful baby girl.
“Little ones to Him belong. They are weak, but He is strong.”
I experienced a profound spiritual moment.
She is weak. She has the tiniest of fingers. She can’t feed or clothe herself. I could feel this baby girl’s need for protection, and I wanted to make sure she was OK. She is weak, but Lianne is strong. I am strong. Our love for her is God’s love for her. And it is strong.
I pictured Jesus opening His arms to the little kids while His disciples tried to shoo them away. God loves the little children, all of them. I thought of this baby who is a part of our lives right now, and I thought of my three amazing children. They are unique, sacred, and precious. The love I have for all of my kids is a mirror of God’s love for us. I felt God’s love so keenly in that moment.
Yes, Jesus loves me. THIS is the Gospel. What other theology do we need?