September 13, 2012
by Maralee
9 Comments
I am an advocate for foster care. No, seriously. It is so beautiful to me how many of my friends have gotten their foster license probably just so I’d quit hassling them about it. I believe so strongly in getting involved in caring for the needs of hurting children and I’m not sure how everybody else doesn’t just have this same passion. I will talk to people in the library, strangers at the mall, your local church- I will talk to anybody, anywhere about foster care.
A lot of the people I talk to these days are young couples. I have kind of my standard spiel I give that’s designed to help families think about foster parenting in ways that will not burn them out, protect the family they already have, and meet the needs that are out there. I advise families to only take kids younger than their youngest child. So if I’m talking to young families, this means I do a lot of advocating for the babies of the foster care system. Our two little ones came to us as infants not even able to sit up or crawl and my love for them makes me a bulldog about finding other families who will help the helpless. I also talk about babies because I think they reach into our hearts past our stereotypes of “foster children”. We can see them as innocent victims more easily than when we look at teenagers. I also do a lot of talking to stay-at-home moms and I think there is a unique need for those women to take on the needs of babies too young or sick or insecurely attached to be sent off to daycare.
But all the while I’m talking about the babies, I’m thinking about My Boys. Not my sons, My Boys. Before becoming foster parents Brian and I spent five years as houseparents in a group home setting. The house could hold eight boys, but we usually had six or seven at a time. Let me be sure and clarify- these kids were not technically foster children, but were boys placed in a residential group home setting by their parents (who retained all parental rights) to keep them from entering foster care. During those five years we had a hand in helping to raise 17 boys. These kids were between the ages of six and eighteen during their years with us. We were responsible for not just their home life, but also their schooling because this place worked on a homeschool model where the houseparents functioned as the primary teachers. So right now I spend my time telling people that not every foster child is a fifteen year-old boy, but I am very VERY aware that some precious kids ARE fifteen year-old boys. And they are every bit as valuable and in need of love as the little ones.

So there are some things I’d like you to know about the big boys who are in need of a safe place to sleep tonight. This is one of those moments I’m glad I’m writing and not public speaking because there are tears in my eyes right now thinking about the faces of these boys I have loved.
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