Fostering Love

My mom came home with a tragic story today, the kind that I just have to talk about on here. The kind that alters your perspective on life.

A kid in her class had to be taken away by Protective Services today, a little boy whose mother had left marks on his back. Big marks, the kind that could never be an accident. He and his two sisters were taken after school, off to who knows where...somewhere safe.

And I feel bad. Not because he's finally away from his mom--she doesn't deserve those kids--and not because it was Protective Services that took them--the people were really wonderful, my mom says--but because they're probably going to go through hell for the next few years.

They'll be put in foster care; who knows if those foster parents will treat them well? Who knows if they'll even be together? You hear about cases like this all the time, and it's never really bothered me so much.

But now it does. This little boy needs love and care and hope, not temporary homes. He needs someone who will tend to his particular emotional needs. I doubt he will get that.

So I've resolved. Remember how I talked about wanting to adopt kids later in life? Well, I still plan on that, but I think I also want to foster. I want to be able to give sets of siblings the kind of life they deserve. They're just kids--they shouldn't be screwed over just because their parents are terrible.

I want to help. I've never felt so strongly about something, never so passionate about wanting to get involved. I want to change this. I want to make a difference.

I have resolved, and once I'm resolved, I rarely change. Here I go...