Let me be honest from the start: foster care was not part of our original plan.
My wife and I weren’t sitting around one night saying, “You know what would be fun? Government paperwork, deep trauma, and systemic brokenness. Let’s sign up.”
No, like many families, we were just trying to build a life together—working hard, chasing stability, and figuring things out as we went. But over time, we started feeling this quiet nudge. A tug.
Not toward some polished version of charity.
Not toward being saviors.
But toward something messier. Something truer.
We were being invited into the lives of kids who had every reason not to trust the system, or even the people in it—including us.
And we said yes.
The Start of the Journey
I still remember the first time we met our son.
There’s no way to fully describe the emotional chaos of that moment—the hope, the fear, the weight. You’re stepping into a child’s life at a moment when everything has been stripped away from them, and you have to be both rock and sponge at the same time.
Strong enough to hold steady.
Soft enough to absorb pain that isn’t yours.
Foster care is raw. It reveals who you are at your core—because these kids don’t care about your resume. They care about whether or not you show up.
And that’s what we tried to do. Over and over again.
What They Don’t Tell You About the System
The foster system is complicated. It’s broken in ways that break your heart. But it’s also filled with people doing the best they can with too little support, too little funding, and too few resources.
We learned quickly that fostering wasn’t just about loving a kid. It was about navigating a system that often works against family, healing, and stability.
- We had caseworkers change mid-case.
- We had court dates postponed without notice.
- We had bio-family visits arranged and rearranged like chess pieces on a board.
And all the while, we were trying to give this child—our child—a sense of safety, routine, and love.
The emotional whiplash is real. But so is the beauty.
The Unexpected Gifts
You start the foster journey thinking you’re there to help a child. But what you realize is that they change you far more than you ever expected.
Our capacity to love stretched.
Our ability to endure expanded.
Our definition of family exploded.
And then came the moment that still feels like magic:
Adoption day.
The day when uncertainty becomes permanence.
When fear gives way to peace.
When a child hears, “You’re home now. Forever.”
Why We Keep Showing Up
We didn’t stop at one. And we don’t plan to.
This isn’t a phase or a checkbox for us—it’s part of who we are now. Not because it’s easy. Not because we’re special. But because there are kids still waiting. Still hoping. Still stuck in the system with no clear way out.
And we know what one steady, imperfect, consistent family can do.
That’s why we started the Dwelling Place—our nonprofit dedicated to supporting foster, adoptive, and kinship families in our community. We wanted to create the kind of support system we wish we’d had when we started.
We offer respite nights. We host events. We walk with families through the rollercoaster. And we remind caregivers that they’re not alone—even when it feels like it.
If You’re Considering Fostering…
Let me speak directly to you.
You’ll never feel “ready.”
You’ll never have all the answers.
You’ll never know what’s coming next.
But if your heart is stirred—lean in.
Ask questions. Talk to someone who’s done it. Learn about trauma-informed care (I can’t say enough about TBRI). Don’t try to be perfect. Just try to be present.
The system doesn’t need saviors.
It needs steady people.
It needs families who are willing to show up, over and over, no matter how hard it gets.
What I Hope You Take From This
This isn’t a story about how we rescued anyone.
This is a story about how we were transformed—by love, by pain, by resilience, and by the unshakable truth that every child deserves a safe, stable, and loving place to call home.
If you’re curious about fostering…
If you’ve thought about adopting from care…
If you just want to support the people who are doing it…
Reach out. Ask questions. Or support your local nonprofit. (Ours is Dwelling Place TX).
You don’t have to change the whole world.
Just be someone’s safe place.
That’s more than enough.