Decades ago, my husband and I were foster patents to a one-year-old, whom we nicknamed Z-Man.
Z-Man’s energy was boundless, his coordination was amazing, and his main word was ball—all fitting for the son of a football player. Unfortunately, that football player was an absent father, and Z-Man’s teenage mother needed help. She wisely chose temporary foster care.
When Z-Man’s mother was ready to resume parenting, she was allowed daytime visits, and finally, one overnight visit. Z-Man joyfully ran to greet my husband when his overnight visit ended. Then, Z-man turned and looked at his mother. He turned back with anguish on his face. Z-Man understood he couldn’t have both people.
That Sunday night with us went smoothly, but on Monday night, Z-Man screamed his emotions. He was inconsolable and too young to understand the plans of the adults in control. On Friday, he would have his mother permanently; he would no longer bounce between two homes.
I occasionally think of Z-Man and the reminder that in my darkest moments, God has plans. And they might be completed on Friday.
For who has known the mind of the Lord. or who has been his counselor? Romans 11:34