Extension of Him

Your children are typically an extension of you. As they grow from toddlers into young adults, they naturally absorb your mannerisms. They pick up your habits, mirror your reactions to life, and will even model how you interact with others. In many ways, they become extensions of you. As you guide them through life, helping them learn and grow, you aren't just raising children, but are shaping human beings.

Adoption and fostering are different. You don’t have the advantage of years spent shaping them from the start. These children come to you already formed in many ways, and you accept the responsibility of loving and guiding them before truly knowing who they are.

I'm raising a child whose personality feels completely opposite to mine. Some days, I struggle to relate to her or even understand her.

Sometimes it feels like I can’t reason with her, and no matter what I do, I'm not making any progress. I find myself constantly trying to help her unlearn unhealthy habits she never should have picked up in the first place. But I can't erase the survival skills that once protected her and now only hinder her. We've been circling some of the same challenges for years with very little change. And as I write this, I remind myself that I said yes to this. I stepped into this path with hope, and now some days it feels like it's breaking me.

When a child is abused and neglected, whether you know them personally or not, you don’t pause to weigh the options or think about the future...you just act. You do what you think is best in that moment to protect the child. I've often looked back and wondered if, by saying yes, I somehow prevented someone "better" from stepping in. That thought isn't truth, but it lingers, feeding the insecurity that I'm not capable of raising this child. And as these honest words spill out, the guilt cuts deep. The shame whispers that I am failing, that I should be different, that my heart should feel lighter. But it doesn't. And though I can't change how I feel, I focus on what I can do: I keep showing up. Some days I manage well, other days I simply survive. But when the voices of doubt creep in, which they so often do, I remind myself that God placed me here for a reason. And if He placed me here, He will sustain me here.

Rather than sinking into self-pity, replaying every “what if” and “what could have been,” I pause and remember that I once prayed for this. I asked for a child and God answered my prayers, though not in the way I expected. And yes, there are times when I want to cancel that prayer, when I wish for the simplicity of my old life. I long for my home to be the quiet place where I can rest and restore myself as it used to be. I no longer have that comfort, and I grieve it. But if I'm being honest, I can see a deeper purpose in all of this. God never meant for me to hide in my comfort. He called me to more, and for now, my "more" is her.

I carry so much shame over how I feel about this situation, but I know I'm not the only one. There are others who have said yes to this calling and wrestle with the same emotions I do. When I stop and think about how hard this is for me, I also wonder how hard it must be for her. She's just a child still trying to make sense of a world that was turned upside down for no apparent reason. She, too, is being asked to push forward without choice, to keep going when she would rather stop. And that is where I see the truth: we are not so different. Neither of us asked for this story. Neither of us likes how it feels. But here we are, both of us showing up every day, doing the best we can to hold ourselves together, and growing from this whether we want to or not.

I know the only way to keep moving forward is to lean into God. My feelings may shift daily, but His truths remain the same. He reminds me that "all things work together for good to those who love Him, to those who are called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28). I don’t have to see the good in this situation for that to be true. He promises to be with me wherever I go (Joshua 1:9), and that's the security I need when everything around me feels unbearable. He promises to go before me and fight for me (Deuteronomy 1:30), and that gives me comfort and strength to step into another day. He already holds my future in His hands (Psalm 31:15) and allows only what will give me hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11). These truths give me the courage to trust His plan for my life, even when my current reality feels too heavy.

I've come to realize that I must keep turning to Him. When redirecting and reminding feel endless, I turn to Him. When the same struggles resurface day after day, or when I feel the pain of not fully relating to her, I turn to Him. And when I do, even on the days it takes all the strength I have, He meets me there. He asks me only to carry today. He doesn't condemn me for my thoughts or how I feel, but instead covers me with grace, forgiveness, and peace. He gently reveals the places I need to grow, while giving me what I need to keep going. If I continue to choose Him first, He never fails to provide.

Through God’s provision for me, I find the strength to provide for her. Even on the hardest days, that is a gift. He gives me the strength to walk with her through the hardest season of her life. He equips me to lead her toward healing and to show her that He is the one she can always run to. And what better lesson can I give her than letting her see me run to Him first? Maybe she doesn't mirror my habits, my way of processing, or my personality. She is not an extension of me and doesn't need to be. Because my calling is not to shape her in my image, but to lead her toward His. And if she grows to be an extension of Him, then that is more than I could ever hope for.