I get the picture (the one I can’t share on social media) on my cell phone.  It is my daughter in law, holding a little brown boy, his mop of curly black hair is mounded up against her chin.  His head, nestled against her chest.  I can see his face.

The message is short:  “And S- where he’s at the majority of the time.”

I look at Regina’s face.  Her hair is askew, her striped orange shirt rumpled, but her face is one of peace.  She’s doing what she’s wanted to do for a very long time.

I look back at the three-year old’s face, and find myself blinking back the tears.  What S- is doing is listening to her heart, his ear plastered against her chest.

What he doesn’t know, but probably understands, is that he is hearing the strong beat of a Mama’s Sweet Love.

 

 

4 Comments

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4 responses to “

  1. How wonderful. Your sacrifice in letting them go has a lot of rewards.

  2. Oh, goodness! What a lovely picture 🙂

  3. Your stories of foster care are moving me deeply…

  4. Precious picture I’m seeing in my mind’s eye.  I’m blessed by these stories and updates on your son and daughter-in-law’s endeavors.

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