Found, Wanted, and Cherished: A Reflection for National Adoption Awareness Month
Before I became an adoptive parent, I was a foster parent.
And before I opened my home to children in care, I was a Fosterful volunteer.
As Fosterful volunteers, we encounter a side of our community that may have once felt distant or unfamiliar. But when you rock an infant who’s endured a traumatic brain injury, or sit beside a child showing signs of neglect and fear, everything changes. What was once a “social issue” suddenly becomes deeply personal—a story that now includes you.
Fosterful volunteers are a kind of first responder. Sometimes, your time with a child lasts only a few minutes—just long enough for placement to be found and bags to be packed. Other times, the hours stretch long as a child waits in uncertainty, wondering what comes next.
So, you pull on your Fosterful apron, set out a few snacks or games, and greet them with your best reassuring smile. Then come the questions.
“Where am I going?”
“When will I see my mom?”
“Why did this happen?”
If you’re anything like me, you’ll wish you had every answer. Saying “I don’t know” can feel unbearably inadequate. My own journey—through years as a foster parent and later adopting two children from care—has shown me that those unanswerable questions never really stop. They surface at unexpected moments: a holiday, a comment, a photo. I’ve learned to sit with the unknowns, even when I ache to fill in the blanks.
When I adopted my children, I was handed boxes of redacted files—thousands of pages chronicling every court date, case note, and visitation report. I pored over them for weeks, desperate to piece together the story of their beginnings. It was both heartbreaking and healing. For every question answered, two more remained.
Those files now rest in a time capsule, sealed for the day they are ready to talk about it—alongside mementos from each year we’ve shared together. I know the day they open it will be filled with mixed emotions: discovery, grief, curiosity, and perhaps a renewed understanding of who they are. My hope is that, through it all, they’ll remember that in our home they were found, wanted, and cherished.
When volunteering with Fosterful, you’ll meet children of all ages—from infants to teens—each navigating their own moment of uncertainty. Some will pepper you with questions right away; others will stay quiet until they feel safe.
A few simple reminders for those sacred moments:
Be honest. “I don’t know where you’ll sleep tonight, but I do know someone is working hard to make sure you’re safe.”
Validate their feelings. “It’s okay to feel scared or confused. You’re not alone.”
Listen. Whether they want to talk—or don’t—your calm presence matters.
Reassure. Let them know this situation isn’t their fault.
Read their cues. Some kids need play-dough and laughter; others need silence and space. Follow their lead.
Fosterful volunteers meet children at one of the most vulnerable points in their lives. They may never remember your name—but they’ll remember your kindness. The calm tone in your voice, the way you offered a snack or a blanket, the moment you brought peace to chaos.
Even if they don’t recall your face, your compassion leaves an imprint. It tells them that strangers can be safe, that love can exist without condition, and that in the middle of the hardest day—someone cared.
