My Journey to Becoming a Foster Mom Foster care has only been part of my life officially for a few months, but in truth, it’s been in my heart since I was a child. Even when I was young, I felt like I was meant for something greater, something bigger than myself.
But growing up, that feeling made me feel different. I didn’t know how to fit in. I struggled between who I was with church friends and who I was at school. On top of that, I was diagnosed with a learning disability at age 8. In high school, the shame really set in.
I remember hiding the fact that I was in a Learning Strategies class instead of P.E. One day, some boys saw me leaving that class and made fun of me. I ran to the bathroom and cried, feeling exposed and broken.
Whatever made me feel unique was gone, and in its place were bitterness and embarrassment. As I got older, I turned to alcohol. What started as high school partying became my way to escape. Alcohol gave me a sense of belonging. For once, I wasn’t the girl struggling in school, I blended in like everyone else.
But behind all that was a deep emptiness and regret. Eventually, I hit a low point and asked myself, “How did I get here?” Someone once said to me, “It’s not your past that defines you, but how you use it.” That simple truth shifted my entire perspective. I began to believe that everything I’d been through meant something.
The things I used to view as flaws or failures slowly became signs of resilience. Some people thought I was crazy for wanting to foster as a single woman. But I knew in my heart that God had placed this purpose inside me a long time ago.
After a few months of waiting, I got a call, twin 1-year-old boys needed a home. I didn’t think I could do it. I only had one crib and one car seat. I was licensed for one child, not two. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that these boys were meant to be mine. I said “yes.”
And once I did, everything I needed showed up, extra crib, car seat, diapers, and clothes. God turned every “no” I had into a “yes.” They don’t look like me. Our skin doesn’t match. But I see something even more beautiful, I see God’s hand in it all.
My parents, who were unsure at first, now love these boys deeply. My mom even wrote a letter saying how she now sees the beauty in this messy, unexpected journey. That calling led to something messy, hard, and absolutely beautiful. If I could speak to my 16-year-old self, I’d say this: trust that quiet pull inside you, it’s leading you somewhere meaningful.
