When we last left off, our ragtag band of staff members had just hosted a sunny October event, Autumn Fest.  Well, note that the blog took a break well beyond October.  That is because, gentle readers, the gears were just starting to turn. 

As soon as the last Halloween costume was shelved, our AMAZING Administrative Coordinator, Lola (who should be known as The Queen Of Everything Important in the Universe) whipped into action.  Letters

My hands hurt from wielding the shovel, yet again.  My shoulders ache.  I gaze down my driveway, a driveway that feels like it magically added a hundred feet to its dimensions, and sigh.  I can’t do this, I can’t make it.

This is the mountain our kiddos climb, day after day.  The road ahead too long, their souls too weary to travel it.

The snow is still falling, coating the path I’ve cleared, icing over

As you may have noticed, there was quite a gap in our blogging from early fall until the present.  Where did our blog go?  Well, fall and early winter are wild times around the office.  In addition to the usual (and sometimes very unusual) things that make up our days (and sometimes nights), the fall and winter months bring holidays and great expectations.  Here’s a little glimpse into what you missed…

October used to

Blizzard season is upon us.  Just as kiddos were adjusting to being back to school, they are back home, faces pressed to windows, hands pressed to sliding doors.  Some are sleeping the snow day away (looking at you, teens), while others are begging to romp in the cold.  The snow is tumbling, whirling its way down, blanketing the world around us.  The barometer has dropped alarmingly (who even knew that a Bomb Cyclone was a

Please welcome a guest blogger, Amanda Townsend, one of our Case Managers.  She took a few minutes to reflect upon a very important speech she attended last week. 

"On Monday 9/25/17 I was given the opportunity to attend a provider’s council conference. I was excited to be given this opportunity when hearing that the key note speaker was going to be Steve Pemberton, the Author of the book “A Chance In the World.”  I

Their eyes have gone from shining and full of sparkles to flat, dull.  Two giggling girls changed, aged over the course of one conversation.  A social worker nervously toyed with her bracelet as she struggled to find the words needed to change their world. 

Their mother, a woman who fought hard to find her footing, lost her battle.  The warm smile they loved, the enveloping hugs she gave, the future they planned to go home

It is the final step for a Home Finder. At the very bottom of the last page, a little black line, about three inches long; your typed name, credentials, and title below. You poise your blue or black pen over the paper and there is always a pause. The weight of the paper is heavy in your hand. You’ve read, re-read, and scrutinized every line. Peers, supervisors, and program directors have reviewed your work. That

"Teenagers"…Breaths catch, hearts splutter, shoulders stiffen. That single word is one of the most heart-stopping words in the English language. It is the developmental stage every parent nervously jokes about and anxiously anticipates. Couple the adolescent years with the challenges of foster care and you have a fearsome combination…Or do you?

The newspapers are filled to the brim with articles about the opioid epidemic and the soaring numbers of infants entering care directly from the

You enjoy a lovely meal at a friend’s home.  The food was delicious, the conversation delightful.  The host rises to clear the table and you, excellent manners in hand, leap up to help.

“Oh, thank you so much,” the homeowner says with a smile.  “I would really appreciate it if you could help load the dishwasher.”

As he hands you plates, cups, bowls, and silverware, you arrange them neatly in rows.  Cups in front, plates

The numbers are crunched, arranged, and deconstructed. Computers churn out percentages, predictions. They have their place in this world, but they will never tell you your place. The numbers are numbers, but they don’t have all the data. They can’t calculate the unique, glowing being that is YOU.

The statistics don’t know that you dream about a pink picket fence and have clippings from magazines taped to your mirror as motivation.

The statistics don’t know