Foster and Adoptive Parenting: Surrendering Control to God

Control freak. Perfectionist. Dictator. Or, according to PowerThesaurus.org, “Bossy Boots.” Whatever we choose to call it, as a mom, I like to control outcomes. 

In Control

I’ve been a parent for nearly forty years. My children—biological and adopted—range in age from twenty to thirty-seven. For decades, I parented as if I were in control. I assumed that if I did all the right things, I would raise perfect kids.

Our family went to church every time the doors were open. The kids attended VBS and youth group. We homeschooled. We allowed only Christian music and wholesome movies. Each child went on a missions trip in high school.

Surely our efforts would produce the next Billy Graham.

My parenting strategy seemed to work for the first nine years.

Then we adopted five more children.

They came with trauma and prenatal substance exposure. The incompatible combination of their challenging behaviors and our punitive parenting blew up in our faces.

The explosion taught us something life-changing: even attentive parents are not in control.

Control is an illusion.

Parents are in charge—but we are not in control.

In Charge

When children are young, we manage everything—mealtimes, bedtimes, playdates, education,  medical decisions, what they wear, where they go, and who they socialize with. But as our kids  grow older, our authority gradually shrinks. 

Teenagers and young adults begin thinking their own thoughts and making their own decisions— and we may not agree with those choices. 

Children who have experienced foster care, kinship care, or adoption carry layers of loss and trauma. Many also have prenatal exposure to alcohol or drugs. These factors affect brain development and decision-making. Abandonment and rejection can intensify poor choices.

One of my daughters is thriving in many ways. She has a good job, manages her finances well, and even purchased a small fixer-upper in our neighborhood. 

But her relationship choices have been painful. 

She became pregnant and gave birth to a precious baby girl. The situation with the birth father looks more like a daytime TV drama than a happily-ever-after fairy tale. We are grateful she chose life for her baby and reached out to us for guidance. We’ve remained present and supportive. 

Still, some of her choices will likely lead to heartbreak. 

It’s hard to watch our children suffer from poor decisions—no matter how old they are. But as  they grow older, the consequences grow heavier. 

Parents need to remember: we’re not in control. We’re not even truly in charge.

But we know Who is. 

In Christ

If you have accepted Jesus as Lord and Savior, then you are in Christ—and He is in you. 

2 Corinthians 5:17 tells us we are a new creation in Christ. Galatians 2:20 reminds us that Christ  lives in us. 

All parents face challenges. Foster and adoptive parents often face them daily. The work we do is a direct threat to the kingdom of darkness. The enemy does not celebrate when orphans become sons and daughters. He seeks to devour, discourage, and pin us to the mat. 

But being in Christ means we are not defenseless. 

We are invited to put on the Armor of God (Ephesians 6). To grapple means to fight with bare  hands—but we are not weaponless. We have the Sword of the Spirit. 

We may not be in control. We may not be in charge.  

But we are armed. And we are not alone. 

Connection

Last September, my three-year-old grandson Killian unexpectedly passed away. He was the only  child of our daughter who came to us through a kinship placement.

When she was young, we didn’t understand trauma. We parented her the same way we parented our biological children. I spent so much time trying to correct behavior that I failed to build connection.

Years later, after adopting four more children, we became trauma-informed. We realized her  behaviors had been rooted in trauma all along. By then she was an adult, making one painful  choice after another. 

But it’s never too late to connect. 

I began giving “yeses” to build relationship. 

When she brought her support dog to family portraits, I let the pup be in the pictures.

When she got engaged and announced an October 31st wedding themed “Nightmare Before  Christmas,” I hesitated. For years we had attended a conservative church where Halloween was a  firm no. I prayed, “Lord, what do I do?” 

His answer? Say yes. 

It turned out to be one of the most fun-filled weddings we’d ever attended. Not dark. Not  demonic. Just meaningful and fun. 

And that yes deposited something invaluable in our connection bank. 

When they moved west, we stayed connected through FaceTime. When she became pregnant,  she wanted me there for the birth. 

A month before Killian was due, an ultrasound revealed a serious heart defect. I flew to Denver  for his induction and had the honor of coaching my daughter through labor. Killian had open heart surgery at five days old. I made four trips to Denver in twelve months. 

Every yes strengthened our bond. 

Then came the call. 

Killian was unresponsive. 

Within twenty-four hours, my husband and I were holding our shattered children. We walked  with them through unthinkable decisions. We held our grandson’s lifeless body at the funeral  home. 

We lost a grandson. And now we watch our daughter grieve. 

I have cried out to the Lord: “You promise to work all things together for good. But this? How?” I don’t know how He will redeem this loss. 

But I trust Him. 

I am not in control. I am not in charge.  

But I am in Christ.

Carried

Jesus invites us to come to Him (Matthew 11:28) and cast our anxieties on Him (1 Peter 5:7). Isaiah 46:4 promises: 

“I have made you and I will carry you;  

I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” 

In Luke 15, the shepherd carries the lost sheep home. 

The safest place to be is in the arms of our Shepherd. 

Psalm 23 reminds us: He restores our souls. He walks with us through dark valleys. He protects us. His goodness and mercy pursue us. 

Our Good Shepherd carries us. 

And He carries our children. 

Surrender to the Shepherd

As a self-proclaimed Bossy Boots, I confess: I like to tell God how to answer my prayers— especially when it comes to my kids. 

But control is rooted in fear. 

And God has not given us a spirit of fear. 

When we try to control outcomes, we reveal what we fear—and what we do not fully trust God  with. 

Proverbs 3:5–6 calls us to trust in the Lord with all our hearts and lean not on our own  understanding. 

God created our children. He placed them in our family. He has a plan for their lives. 

We are not in control.  

We are not in charge.  

But we know Who is. 

Cast Your Cares

Psalm 55:22 says:

“Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you.”

Casting our cares is not like casting a fishing line that we reel back in. It is releasing something into God’s hands and leaving it there.

For years, I’ve carried a heavy burden involving one of my adult biological children and one of  my adopted sons. I’ve given it to the Lord countless times—only to pick it back up.

Recently, during a time of solitude and prayer, the Holy Spirit gave me a picture: a white box tied  with a red ribbon. 

He prompted me to place my burden inside, close the lid, and set it at His feet. This time, I released it intentionally. 

Now, when I’m tempted to retrieve it, I picture that white box and pray, “Lord, You have the box.  It’s in Your hands. I trust You.” 

For the first time in years, peace has settled in my heart. 

I don’t know when or how things will resolve.  

But I know Who holds them. 

Whether your children are toddlers, teens, or adults—release them to Jesus.

In Closing

Your Good Shepherd is carrying you and all that concerns you.

Focus on connection—with Him and with your children—instead of control. Armor up. Wield your Sword. Pray daily. 

We may not be in control.  

But we are called.  

And we are carried.