"Because foster care isn’t just about custody or court dates. It’s about redemption. It’s about showing up in the hardest spaces with gentleness, humility, and love."  

In the world of foster care, there are acronyms we use so frequently that they begin to lose their meaning. TPR—Termination of Parental Rights—is one of them. It often signals the final phase of a case, when adoption or guardianship is in the near future. But beyond the paperwork and legal procedures, TPR represents something profoundly heavy: the legal, permanent end of a parent's right to raise their child.

It’s not a milestone to celebrate. It's a moment rooted in brokenness, often laced with grief, shame, and the stark realization that parenting has come to an end. 

Into this story enter two little girls. Sweet, joyful, resilient. They have spent 75 percent of their young lives in foster care, with no contact with their biological parents for the past two and a half years. The history of trauma and abuse was severe enough that visitation was not possible. Yet, through every court hearing over the course of the case, our Gateway Foster Care Case Manager and Gateway foster parents showed up—not only for the children, but for their biological parents too. 

We talked with them. Not just about the case, but about life. We showed them pictures of their daughters—thriving, laughing, growing. We met them with kindness and dignity, sometimes for less than 15 minutes every few months. We did what we could in those brief opportunities to reflect the love of Jesus. We shared stories. We acknowledged the awkward waiting halls and long court dockets with laughter and humanity. We prayed with them. We stood beside them in the tension between hope and heartbreak.

When it came time for TPR, something unexpected happened. 

The parents—after deep reflection—chose to voluntarily sign. Not because they didn’t love their girls, but because they did! They recognized that their daughters were safe, cherished, and flourishing in their foster homes. They signed post-adoption contact agreements, entrusting their girls to the families who had been showing them love. 

These same parents have other children not placed with Gateway families, and they have not signed and continue to fight for them. But when it came to these two little girls, they told us, “You’re different.” They saw something in our foster families that gave them peace—a peace that surpassed the pain of goodbye. 

In those sacred moments in court, I was overcome with pride—not for the system, but for the hearts of our foster families. They could have easily responded with judgment, resentment, or anger—especially given the circumstances these two innocent girls had endured. And no one would have blamed them. 

But instead, they chose love. They chose grace. 

In the face of deep brokenness, they extended compassion—not only to the children, but to the same ones who had allowed them harm. That’s the kind of love that cannot be achieved without Jesus. That’s the kind of love that reflects something and Someone greater. 

We honored the birth parents' decision. We affirmed the courage it took to make it. We reminded them that their love for their daughters was clear in the choice they were making. And we told them—honestly, sincerely—that the difference they noticed in us is not our own. It is Jesus. 

We continue to pray for these parents. We believe God is still writing their story. And we trust that the seeds of kindness and truth that were planted in courtrooms and case meetings will continue to grow. 

Because foster care isn’t just about custody or court dates. It’s about redemption. It’s about showing up in the hardest spaces with gentleness, humility, and love. 

And above all, it’s about glorifying God in the quiet, painful, beautiful work of restoration.