When my husband and I fell in love, we knew early on that we wanted to be foster parents. Having biological children was never our focus; we wanted to give a home to kids who needed love, safety, and a sense of belonging. We licensed as therapeutic foster parents, ready to care for older children and teens who often get overlooked.
What we didn’t expect was to meet all three of our sons within our very first year as foster parents. First, there was Isiah. He came to us just before Christmas for what was supposed to be a few days of respite care. Our house was full already, with two little ones and another foster child, not to mention a guest from overseas. But the minute Isiah walked in, something felt right.
He was sixteen, funny, and full of life. From the very first hour, it was like he belonged. We spent that week going to family dinners, basketball games, and Christmas shopping. When it came time for him to leave, my heart ached. I didn’t realize it at the time, but a piece of our family had just walked out the door.
Over the next few months, we saw him a couple more times, and then, nothing. Two years passed without contact. Bureaucracy and decisions made above our heads kept us apart. I’d see his name online and wonder how he was doing. Then one day, out of nowhere, I felt a quiet nudge in my heart, a simple message: “He will be your son.” I held onto that for five long years.
It was surreal when we finally reconnected via social media. Seeing him again, older and stronger, behind the counter at his summer job, I fought back tears. We kept in touch, and when he joined the Army, I was prouder than words could say. I sent letters and packages like any mom would. But still, deep down, I longed for him to come home, not just to visit, but to stay.
In 2019 my husband called him with a question we’d been holding onto: “Would you want to be adopted?” He didn’t need any time to think – the answer was yes. It took years of paperwork and delays, but the moment the adoption became official, I cried harder than I ever had before. Because the truth is, Isiah had been our son from the very first day he walked through our door.
Being a family is not always neat and easy; it’s messy and painful, full of lessons in love and forgiveness. But it is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.
Isiah’s Story
Life hasn’t been simple for me. Growing up in foster care, I learned early that people can leave, and that sometimes you have to protect yourself from being hurt. I wanted to believe in family, but it felt safer not to.
When I met Elizabeth and her husband for the first time, it was supposed to be temporary, just days. But those few days changed my life. They made me feel like for the first time in my life, I belonged somewhere. And even after the system kept us apart, they never stopped checking on me and writing and showing up. They didn’t see a “foster kid.” They saw me.
When I came home after the Army, they welcomed me like I had never left. I had a room waiting for me and a house key with my name on it. That was everything to someone who never really had a place to call home.
It wasn’t always easy. I carried a lot of pain, and sometimes I pushed them away. But they kept loving me through it. Eventually, I realized that family isn’t about blood, but it’s about who stays, who fights for you, and who never gives up. That’s what they did. And now, finally, I know what it feels like to belong.
