At age 91, Nana decided it was time to retire.  She turned 90 last year during the early days of the pandemic.  We couldn’t celebrate her in the way we’d wanted.  Nana called us early on.  “I don’t think I should take any children right now.  It just doesn’t seem safe.”  We agreed. 

Nana was in her 60’s when she started fostering.  She’d always wanted to, but hadn’t had the time.  Her children were grown

The goodbye was a hard one.  As soon as the kids learned that they were going to live with their relatives, behaviors that had long since stopped began cropping up again.  The cuddly children who once snuggled in for stories and movies, who danced in the living room to music, who were joyful turned angry and closed off.  Hurtful words were flung about, tantrums were common, and fists were even raised at Mama T.  “You’re

A buffet of food, laid out on a beautiful table.  Aromas of savory dishes, sweet treats, and spicy appetizers tease the nose.  The mouth waters, the stomach rumbles.  A starving person throws himself at the feast, grabbing with both hands, barely chewing, barely registering all that he is taking in, barely able to breathe around this life saving relief.  Other diners step back, wide-eyed at the sight, but politely understand.  He is the guest of

Mrs. M was gone for two weeks.  She cried for the first two days, then checked in with the respite parents regularly.  “Is she doing okay?  Is she eating?  How is she sleeping?”

Mrs. A, respite parent for Mrs. M's 13 month old miracle baby (born substance exposed at 26 weeks gestation, in the hospital for nearly three months before her release to our foster parent, Mrs. M) carried Little Miracle into the office, beaming with delight.