As 2020 winds down, we all know that it has been a tumultuous year. But despite the difficulties we have faced, I know there are people we can call, day or night, when a child is in trouble.

They are the caretakers who open their homes when the courts order a child removed from their home for their own protection — perhaps because a parent or guardian has been arrested for drugs or violence

“I’m her seventeenth.”

Foster mom’s voice was full of emotion.  My eyes widened, my skin prickled. “Seventeenth?  Home?”

“Yes, she’s seven, her sister is four, and I’m their seventeenth.”

A is seven years old and has lived in seventeen homes.  D is four years old and has lived in nearly as many.  For the seven year old, that means a new home roughly every four months.  For the four year old, that means a new

“Remember that no one succeeds alone.  Never walk alone in your future paths.” –Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayer

There are days and nights when we all feel alone.  Our staff, our children, our foster parents, our biological parents…Probably even the judges presiding over these fragile lives feel alone. 

But we never are.  Not a single one of us.  And we shouldn’t be. 

We are part of a caring community.  We are surrounded by friends

May is National Foster Care Month.  It is a month to reflect upon the confusing system that is foster care, to keep children in care, foster parents, biological parents, foster siblings (the children of foster parents), foster care workers, judges, lawyers, GALs, CASA workers, and everyone else in your thoughts.  And for some of our foster parents, it is the right time to reflect back upon why they choose to foster.  

Mama B is one

I love words (which should be of no surprise to those of you who follow this blog- I use a lot of them!).  The words we choose, the phrases that have become engrained in our cultures mean so much.

“To raise a child.”  It is such a common statement.  But what does it mean?  Why not “build a child,” “complete a child,” “construct a child,” or something else that describes the work and effort that

They tore around the large room.  Blocks were immediately turned into missiles, beverages on tables grabbed, anything within reach grabbed.  Their eyes darted around, yet they avoided eye contact at all costs.  We were unknown, this place was unknown.

“Is it always like this?” I asked, breathless after chasing down my work phone which had nearly gone airborne.

“Since they arrived, yes…It’s like they’ve never been in a house before,” Foster Mom said, catching a

We call an Uber or a Lyft for a ride to the airport.  We call AAA if we get a flat tire.  We call DoorDash if we are sick and don’t have the energy to cook a meal for our family.  We nod to our neighbors but don’t know their names or invite them in for coffee.  We connect with family and friends via social media, but rarely reach out in person.  The days are

His scheduled visit was cancelled suddenly, leaving him in the school office. 

“Hi, Buddy is still here…Do you know if someone is coming to get him?”

There hadn’t been a message to let anyone know of the cancellation.  Foster mom thought he was at the DCF office.  Our Case Manager thought the same.  Buddy just knew he was waiting with the receptionist. 

She picked him up.  She’d met him twice before.  “Do you remember me?”

The courthouse was bustling with activity.  A digital sign welcomed families.  On the third floor, balloons bobbed, Storm Troopers doled out high fives and hugs, and photographers snapped away, capturing moments of joy.  Everyone was dressed in their finest, from little Mary Jane shoes on feet who could not yet walk to three piece suits and bow ties.  There was excitement, confusion, commotion, anxiety, and oh so much love.  Families waited for their turn to

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.