Are you aware that there are currently over half a million children living in foster care in the United States? Laura* used to be one of those precious children. In 2002 she joined our family of seven after “disrupting” two previous foster homes. In the warm June weeks following her arrival, Laura had a habit of curling up in my lap in fetal position, communicating in wordless grunts and leaking crocodile tears. She wanted her mommy.

This little girl had known so many changes in six short years that her head didn’t spin anymore. She had lived with her birthmother for the first 18 months. Then, due to neglect and molestation, she spent 18 months in foster care. She returned home to her birthmother for two years, but re-entered foster care at age 5, following a second molestation by a different perpetrator. After two disrupted foster placements, lasting a few months each, Laura crash-landed in our home, emotionally exhausted and utterly bereft.

Although she appeared at first glance hopeless, there was a light in her eyes — a certain radiance born of survival and glowing with resilience. There was also a fire, stoked by anger and the need to control something — anything.

My husband Attila (my Hon) and I were humbled by the enormity of the commitment we had so quickly made to this child. We wondered how God could possibly trust us this much. Our life vest was (and is) a phrase we once read on a church sign: “God does not call the Equipped, He equips the Called.” We count on that, because we feel reasonably sure that we heard the call.

I have to admit that it took us by surprise when we first recognized that it was, indeed, a call. It was July 1998. Our oldest birth daughter Lyryn was about to turn 16. Our birth sons, Brent and Declan, were 14 and 11. Our adopted daughter Ashley was rapidly approaching her 6th birthday. We had a full house and full hands! After experiencing the adoption process with Ashley, we told ourselves and others that we could never do foster care. We said that we would “love them too much to let them go.”

That July, our friend Louise called out of the blue. She had done our home study for Ashley’s adoption, and she needed a favor. She asked us to take a young boy for a week of respite from his foster family, who needed time to determine if they were meant to adopt him. We promptly fell in love with him. His family decided to make the long-term commitment, and legally adopted him.

The experience left us suddenly, achingly aware of the great need for foster parents. It was as though we had walked into a dark room and God had turned on a lamp. We discovered that the room was filled with children who had been orphaned — through neglect, abuse, addictions or other bad choices. They had been orphaned emotionally, physically and spiritually. We felt that God was calling us to be part of the solution, one child at a time.

In January 1999, we updated our home study to include foster care. We started doing weekend respites for kids in birth families with fragile home situations. We could handle that. But after a while, our family decided that what we really wanted was to adopt another child. In June 1999, Johnna (then 8 years old) joined our family. We were the seventh home in her eight years of life. We simply plugged her in between 6-year-old Ashley and 12-year-old Declan. A year later she had melded into our family and been legally adopted, and we opened our home again to foster children.

So what motivates a person to become a foster parent? I took an informal survey of friends from my foster parent association, asking them to put into their own words why they made the decision to enter the unique realm of foster care. Sandy Schindler of Coatesville, PA, said, “David and I feel this is a ministry. It makes us feel closer to God.”

My friend Tom Houghton of Avondale, PA, said he and his wife Danielle became foster parents initially “because we had an extra bedroom that we felt guilty about having, knowing there were many kids out in the world who need a roof over their heads. Plain and simple.” Renee Granger of Exton, PA, added, “to give a child a chance to start over.”

These statements echo results of the 2001 University of Tennessee study “Recruitment and Foster Family Service” (by Mary Ellen Cox, Cheryl Buehler and John Orme). The paper summarizes, “In terms of fostering motives, 51 percent of families reported one or more ‘wanting children’ motives; 67 percent of families reported four or more ‘giving to children’ motives, and 34 percent of families reported one or more ‘satisfying family needs’ motives.” Our family is not adequately represented in this study. We would be included in the percentage of families who report the “listening to God” motive.

I live in the real world, where emotions sometimes run high, wounds sometimes run deep, and exhaustion sometimes seeps out of every pore. But my heart’s desire can be found in Jeremiah 7:23: “Obey My voice, and I will be your God, and you will be My people; and you will walk in all the way which I command you, that it may be well with you” (NASB).

I want it to be well with me — even if it means dwelling (well into my 50s) in décor from the Early Garage Sale Period, surrounded by fingerprinted wallpaper. Even if it means dashing past lizards trapped in plastic containers on the kitchen counter or spending evenings entangled in teen angst.

And I want it to be well for these kids. Even if it means that first we have to slice through lots of yucky stuff before the healing process can begin — both our yucky stuff and their yucky stuff. In our house, healing is an “equal opportunity blessing.” We don’t assume that only foster children have issues. Everyone in our house has issues! We want everyone to feel that he or she deserves the love, commitment and prayers of everyone else within our home.

So how can we be absolutely sure that we heard “the call?” Usually the certainty comes to me in a whisper, when I least expect it. It has a tendency to bless my socks off!

For example, Laura used to listen intently to the children’s message in church each Sunday, invariably anxious to contribute her thoughts. Her little hand would shoot up as my big husband hunkered down in the pew, preparing for the worst.

One week, our pastor shared the story in Luke where Jesus is asked about whether a citizen should pay taxes. Jesus responds to the question with his own question, “Whose image appears on the coin?” He is told, “Caesar’s.” And Jesus replies, “Then pay Caesar what is due Caesar, but give God what is God’s.”

The pastor then asked the children, “Where can we find God’s image?” The familiar hand flew into the air, dancing like a hummingbird. How could the pastor ignore her passion? I had to choke back tears when my precious foster daughter answered, “My life?”

That’s right, little one — your life. And you have stamped your image on my life forever.

Laura left our home in June 2004, almost two years to the day of her arrival. I thought my heart would shatter, but it didn’t. Laura returned to her birthmother and they are doing well. I told Laura that she should be proud of her mom for working so hard to get her back. We see Laura regularly and have forged a positive relationship with her mom. I am sure this is the reason we maintain the level of access that we have.

In six years as a foster family, God has supplied our every need. Twenty-six children have blessed us with their beautiful smiles and unique personalities. Some come for a weekend respite, some for several months. Laura stayed the longest. I think we taught her about God’s love. And she taught us that although we may “love them too much to let them go,” it is our job to love them enough to let them go.