For foster parents, burnout can creep in quietly, stacking up with every trauma meltdown, every phone call from school, every goodbye that leaves you absolutely wrung out.

I stepped into the icy pool to mark the start of summer. The older kids leapt in headfirst, squealing at the shock, but I waded in slowly — cradling a tiny, sweet, chunky four-month-old. His first time in the water.

Parenting kids from trauma isn’t just parenting on “hard mode”—it’s more like trying to build a piece of IKEA furniture with half the screws missing, no instructions, and a tiny voice beside you insisting, “That’s not how Mommy used to do it.”

And here’s the wild, holy beauty of it all: when healing starts to happen, it’s sacred. A child who flinched at touch starts crawling into your lap. A kid who once panicked over meals now patiently waits for dinner each night instead of asking 238 times “Are we having dinner tonight? What are we eating? Will there be enough for seconds?”

That’s why we celebrate the “boring” stuff like it’s 1999. Because a kid who finally sleeps through the night after six months of nightmares? That’s worth a marching band. (We haven't actually hired a marching band yet, but we’re open to it if you know of one looking for work.)

His mom died when he was just nine years old. His dad was in prison. He entered foster care, and that’s where everything changed.

…but let’s be clear: we’re not pampering foster parents (though let’s be honest, they absolutely deserve a spa day and a glass of wine). What we’re really doing is sending a message: You are not alone in this.

A few weeks prior to the party, one foster mom had shared that her new 8 year old placement had been confused when they put up a Christmas tree—he’d never had one before.

…we fight for both. For relief and for hope. For less weight and more wonder. For different outcomes for kids who have been created with a purpose. Because the work is hard—but the light is stronger.

But let’s be real: when you’re parenting kids from hard places, "stable" can feel like a unicorn you’re chasing while also juggling 17 therapy appointments, a court date, a science project meltdown, and a toddler who just painted your couch with peanut butter.. or something even nastier.

When you give, when you volunteer, when you pray, when you advocate—you're not just “helping a nonprofit.” You’re stepping into the story of a family learning to breathe again. You’re reminding foster parents that they’re not alone in the chaos. You’re helping a child stay in one home long enough to stop flinching when someone raises their voice. It might feel small.

You don’t need a perfectly clean home or a flawless parenting record to make a difference. You need to show up, over and over again, with a steady presence and an open heart. That kind of goodness? It changes lives. It's the light we fight for.

At Foster Light, we believe the small things are the big things. A party hat, a hand-lettered sign, a gift with their name on it—it’s not fluff. It’s formation.