And so it begins…
The journey to get here has been so long. Since becoming a foster parent in the fall of 2019, so much has changed. Our family has welcomed six foster children into our home. Some have stayed for just a night, and others have stayed for longer than any child should be in foster care. Others, like our son Lennon, get to stay with us forever and experience the bittersweet journey of adoption. I feel like I’ve aged 10 years but have also lived the most beautiful and meaningful years of my life.
And yet, so much has remained the same. Kids are still coming into foster care. The opioid epidemic rages on, overloading the system with sweet faces. Agencies are losing foster care homes because foster parents aren’t getting the support they need to keep taking more children. Our home is full, but we still get the calls: “We know you don't have any more open beds, but we wanted to call you anyways to see if you can take on a three-year-old.” My heart breaks when we have to say no, and it’s a constant reminder that the foster care system is being abandoned. It’s abandoned by the Church, the government, and the hearts of the community. We don’t realize that there are kids close to our homes who are being abused and neglected on a daily basis.
So, where do we go from here? How can we make foster care into a headline? Because it certainly needs to be one. Imagine if the front page of your newspaper read in all caps “FOSTER PARENTS DESPERATELY NEEDED” instead of a meaningless sports headline. Imagine if just five churches in your area (or even just ONE) had a ministry dedicated to serving the foster care community. Imagine if state agencies offered high-quality support to each and every foster child and their foster parent(s).
In the midst of experiencing a broken system, these what-ifs seem unachievable. After all, I’m tired and stressed from the work and weight of caring for children with real-life trauma. Is it really worth it to try and fix something that is already shattered?
I have to constantly remind myself that yes, it’s worth it. These aren’t just “placements.” They’re children. Real people. Their meltdowns and tears are warranted - their fear and distrust are completely justified. They’ve gone through more than most of us ever will, and they’re not even adults yet. They’re worth fighting for. They’re worth “getting too attached” for. Their safety and emotional stability are far more important than my stress levels, my fatigue, and my anger toward the system.
I started this foster closet as a foundation for making a change to the system. It’s a way to support foster parents so that they will keep fostering. It’s a way to encourage people in the community to become foster parents. And it’s a way to let the system know that we’re here for these kids, but we need change. For now, we offer tangible items and free resources. Someday, I hope we can offer support groups, trainings, panel discussions, respite nights…and so much more. I have lofty dreams for what There’s Always Room can become, but I’m going to need your help to do it. You don’t have to be a foster parent to be a part of the foster community. There are countless other ways to love and serve.
We’re just getting started! It might be slow at first (let’s be real, I am a foster parent and my life is absolutely wild), but I pray that no matter how small we are, we will make a difference. So please, join us!