That Stung a Little

The other night I was talking on the phone with my mom. It was our weekly chat about all the stuff she’s picked up and treasures she’s found for our future foster child. I love that she’s so excited and (on occasion) she does pick some stuff that we really like. Last week she got us a new dia.per ge.nie – sweet! This week I got reports of a high chair – double sweet!  I could probably live without the scary circus/clown/balloon nursery hanging….but, of course we’re gracious and accept all gifts.  And it overfills my heart to have her support and excitement. 

Until she winded down the converstation with: “I’m just so excited. Imagine how excited I would be if it were a *real* blood grandchild!”

Ouch.  ::radio silence::

“I’m glad you love all of God’s children, but you know what I mean.”

I didn’t have the heart (or courage) to tell her she probably won’t ever be seeing a “blood” grandchild. The things people say without even realizing…

2 Comments to “That Stung a Little”

  1. I’m so sorry. That hurt to read. I don’t think that everyone truly gets what being a foster parent means.

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