Wrenched Heart

Today I heard that one of the brothers of our former foster son was forced to leave the home. To give back story: Mike and I cared for a 17-month-old precious boy for about 9 months a few years ago. Brandon had several half siblings from various fathers, but he was close to two brothers in particular. Around the 7 month mark, Brandon's brothers were moved to a home that was willing to adopt them. We were reassured by our social worker that there were no plans to move Brandon, and that they were proceeding with severing parental rights so the boys could be adopted. Two months after that conversation, our social worker scheduled a meeting to tell us she had changed her mind about Brandon, and she was going to move him to the other home. We were devastated, crushed, furious, confused and pierced. 

My one comfort was knowing that Brandon would be reunited with his brothers, whom he loved dearly. The rest I entrusted into God's care.

Well, turns out that Brandon's oldest brother became a wee violent with his foster mother (soon-to-be adoptive mother) and he was kicked out of the home.

There's not a single part of my heart that is happy about this. I feel grieved for the brother, whose life has now become infinitely more complicated. I feel vindicated in that perhaps the social worker may finally see that her perfect plan wasn't so fool-proof. I wonder why it all played out this way and how Brandon is coping with this sudden change to his life. And I hope even stronger that Brandon and his brothers will someday find the love and security they deserve, despite the efforts of social services.