Panhandle Orphan Care Network

06/04/2026

When babies come into care, they often arrive with nothing. We show up with everything we can — diapers, blankets, clothes, and love. Welcome home, sweet ones. 🤍

06/03/2026

05/31/2026

There is a huge need for more people to step up to become licensed foster parents! What if this month was the month you said yes? 🥰Currently, there are 982 children in the Texas Panhandle in foster care. AWFC Amarillo homes were able to place five of the children needing placement last month.

05/29/2026

Ambivalent attachment is where someone deeply desires connection BUT is also afraid of it. Our kiddos that come from tough backgrounds really struggle with this. Check out our latest episode to learn more:

https://youtu.be/Zkcao1rd7mw

05/29/2026

AWW! I wish you could see this sweet baby's face! Another family seen and supported as they welcome a little one into their home.

05/28/2026

We need your help. Please donate if you can! TIA

05/28/2026

Children entering foster care aren’t just adjusting to a new home — they’re grieving.
Grieving their routines. Their school. Their family. Their normal.

Even when home wasn’t safe, it was familiar. And losing what’s familiar can feel terrifying for a child.

Trauma-informed care starts with understanding the grief behind the behaviors. 💙

05/27/2026

❤️❤️❤️

“Trauma doesn’t excuse behavior.”

People say that all the time.

And they’re right.

But I think sometimes people forget that trauma does explain pain.

And pain in children does not always come out pretty.

Sometimes it comes out screaming through a locked bedroom door while the parent on the other side is crying too.

Because sometimes these kids hurt so deeply that it spills onto everyone around them.

Sometimes trauma sounds like rage.
Like cruel words thrown from a place of fear.
Like tiny fists hitting walls.
Like a child pushing and pushing and pushing because they need to know if this love is going to leave too.

And some days?
It gets heavy.

There have been moments I sat in silence with tears running down my face while one of my children unraveled on the other side of the door.

Not because I didn’t love them.
But because I did.

Because there is something absolutely heartbreaking about watching a child drown in pain you cannot take away.

You want to fix it.
You want to calm it.
You want to say the magical thing that suddenly makes them feel safe.

But trauma does not heal on command.
And love is not always loud.

Sometimes love is just staying.

Sometimes love is crying quietly in the hallway while your own heart breaks too.
Sometimes love is taking a deep breath instead of walking away.
Sometimes love is choosing softness when every nerve in your body is exhausted.

And if I’m honest?
There are moments I feel angry.
Defeated.
Overstimulated.
Completely worn thin.

There are moments I have whispered,
“Jesus, I do not have anything left.”

But somehow, in the middle of the chaos, He always whispers back:

Stay.

Forgive quickly.
Love anyway.
Do not let this child’s hardest moment become the proof that everyone leaves.

Because these kids do not need perfect parents.
They need safe ones.
Parents who stay after the meltdown.
After the screaming.
After the slammed doors.
After the ugly moments.

And eventually the sobs slow down.
The door cracks open.
The walls come down a little.

And you look at this child who expected rejection and you say the holiest words you know:

“I love you.
And I’m not going anywhere.”

That is the kind of love foster care taught me about.

Not the pretty kind.
Not the easy kind.

The kind that sits on hallway floors and cries and stays anyway.