Children in Care often come to us with a host of mental health issues. They have little to no control over their life circumstances and they struggle for power in every setting.

Children in Care often come to us with a host of mental health issues. They have little to no control over their life circumstances and they struggle for power in every setting.

By simply buying a pack of crayons, you are contributing to the health and healing of a child who has endured abuse. In buying a pack of crayons, you can bravely open the conversation with loved ones about what each individual can do to prevent child abuse. That is, we can wrap around our neighbors in love, we can learn their names, we can offer eye contact and a friendly ‘hello’ to let her know she’s not alone. We can be the village, because it takes a village to raise a child. And we can buy crayons.

The System is losing foster parents at a rate of 30-50% each year, and social workers are walking away at a similar rate (roughly 40%), according to the CDC. Let that sink in. Social workers aren’t allowed to put their rage and hurt on social media. They suffer in silence.

On the eve of Black History Month, I received an email that would change everything and nothing all at once.

Friend,

You’re tired. I can tell. I’m tired too. I’m tired from putting forth a monumental effort to achieve normalcy, only to have plans upended for the 23rd billionth time. I’m tired from not knowing what the future holds, from being in a constant state of limbo, from being separated from my friends and family, and from not having one ounce of control over my own fate.

We wanted to take a moment to introduce one of our fellow nonprofit partners. Primarily serving the Seattle metro

The following is a parallel narrative based on a true story detailing two perspectives of the same circumstance: how a single photograph – a single bold decision – impacted a little boy and the people who loved him.  The voices you hear are that of a Social Worker (SW) and a Foster Mother (FM). 

My earliest memories are from when I was five. I loved my parents very much. I always wanted to make them proud and tried to be a good kid. I did not complain much and would do anything that was asked of me.

So, I fell down the stairs the other day.