I watched as a single line spread across yet another pregnancy test. In that moment of silence and disappointment, that pink line felt more like a billboard with neon flashing lights declaring: “No! No! No!”

“No, you can’t be a mother.”

“No, your dreams can’t come true.”

“No, you don’t get to end this waiting game that is slowly shredding your heart.”

When my husband and I married, we believed, like most young couples, that starting a family would be easy. After all, we knew how it worked and God would surely answer our prayers because what we longed for was a good thing. But after years of those single pink lines, endless trips to the doctor, and one baby in heaven, we realized our journey was going to look different than we hoped.

As time went by, God began healing my heart and showing me that my idea of motherhood had been limited. He led me to Genesis where Eve is called “the mother of all living.” I came to see all women are mothers because we all bring life to the world in some way. After that realization, several different people prayed over me on different occasions and said God would bring life through my words. I began to get the picture: I was a word mama. I settled into birthing books and felt a new fullness deep within.

But one night I watched a television special on foster kids who age out of the system and unexpected tears began to slip down my cheeks. This is not okay, I thought. These kids can’t spend the rest of their lives without parents. In case you aren’t familiar with the system, when foster kids turn 18 they’re simply sent out into the world as adults. I kept asking myself: Who will help ...

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