I’ve shared pretty openly about our last few days together here, but I’ve never shared about the guilt I fight daily. We had 3 days between the call where we learned he would be leaving our home and the day that we dropped him off at another home.

It has been close to 8 months, but I still relive the fact that I dropped this baby off at another home and never came back for him over and over. I think of how confused he must have been. How sad and hurt he must have been. How betrayed he must have felt.

It wasn’t my choice, and I know that and God reminds me of that often… but satan still tries to whisper to me that it doesn’t matter whether or not I had a choice, because in the end I was still the one who didn’t come back.

Gosh I’m so thankful that I don’t serve a God that makes me feel that way. A God that reminds me of truth. Who casts out those lies.

Goodbyes are freaking hard. There’s no way to spin it. I’ve seen him a handful of times since then and he seems to be thriving. Thank you Jesus for that. ♥️