Matt Varblow
2 min read

Called to Let Go

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I hold her close against my chest long after she surrenders to sleep, cherishing these precious moments with the daughter whom I have only a few more days with…

When we brought baby Jennifer home from the hospital there was every indication that we would be adopting her.  The months passed.  The certainty grew, as did her place in our hearts.  With her gregarious personality and happy chortle she became an integral part of our lives.  Then, her parents changed their minds.  A terrible caseworker combined with an apathetic lawyer in an overtaxed foster and court system to make a perfect storm of a foster care mess.

But, through it all God protected this baby.  He used us to meet her needs in ways which no one else could.  Now, we have just a short time left with her, and as I rock her to sleep I wonder: How do you fit a lifetime of love into a few short days, especially knowing that she may never experience it again?  How do I let go and trust that God can care for her without my help?

Time passes and the night wears on.  Jenn sighs in her sleep and lays her little fist against my chest.  I stroke her tiny fingers one at a time trying to memorize the little dimples in each knuckle, the tiny pink nails, the chubby fingers.  Once again, I ask Him to protect her.  Then I gently tuck her into her crib and place her teddy close, making the sign of the cross on her forehead before slowly turning away.  And I thank him for the 8 months that we’ve had, for the gift of these last few days to say good-bye.  And I quietly shut the door.