10/06/2026
I love a place to gather. Our kitchen table holds so many stories.
Over the years, so many children and families have pulled up a chair, spilled cereal, left crumbs behind, laughed, cried, celebrated, struggled—and eventually moved on to lives that no longer included ours.
When we ended our child foster care journey, I thought maybe this season would bring some reprieve and rest. Instead, it has brought some reframing. And once again, we’ve found ourselves making room at the table—this time welcoming an adult who needed a safe place to call home.
Maybe making room is simply part of who we are now. But here’s something I want foster parents to know:
I didn’t always do foster care well.
I complained about being tired. I got frustrated over spilled cereal bowls and sticky tables. There were days when every little thing annoyed me. I raised my voice when I shouldn’t have. I lost my patience. I went to bed knowing I could have handled the day differently.
There are moments I’m not proud of. And for a long time, those moments made it easy to wonder whether I was really cut out for this.
Maybe you’ve wondered that too. Maybe you’ve sat on the floor and cried because it was all just too much. Maybe you said yes before you understood what that yes would require. Maybe the trauma was bigger than you expected. The behaviors were harder. The appointments were endless. Your house was louder. Your patience was thinner. And somewhere along the way, you started wondering if someone else would be better at this than you.
I want you to hear this: YOU STILL BELONG HERE.
You don’t have to foster perfectly to foster faithfully.
God has never required perfection from the people He calls. He asks us to keep laying it down, keep leaning into Him, keep learning, keep apologizing when we get it wrong, and keep showing up.
There will always be a voice telling you that your mistakes disqualify you. That you aren’t patient enough, strong enough, equipped enough, or good enough to be on the front lines of foster care.
I’ve heard those whispers too. But your hardest day does not erase your yes. Your mistakes do not erase the meals you made, the appointments you kept, the midnight rocking, the advocacy, the prayers, the safety, the consistency, or the thousand ordinary ways you chose to stay.
So to the foster parent wondering if they’re getting any of this right:
Keep learning.
Keep repairing.
Keep loving.
Keep showing up.
Your yes matters.
There is room for imperfect people at this table. YOU BELONG HERE.
