I had no idea that saying “yes” to foster care ministry in San Antonio would expose just how tightly I was holding onto control. Before fostering, life was already full—four kids, a packed calendar, and just enough order to make me feel like I was managing. My hands were open to the Lord, but only as long as I stayed comfortable. Foster care would change that completely.
I didn’t know it then, but God was already preparing my heart to see what He sees—and to love people impacted by foster care with obedience instead of fear.
When the Scales Fell From My Eyes
My husband Jason and I always felt called to adoption. We were raised in the Church—there every time the doors were open. We knew Scripture. We knew Jesus loved us. We knew about missions, homelessness, prison ministry, and orphans overseas.
What we didn’t know was foster care.
When we felt the nudge to adopt, we did what most people do—we Googled it.
International adoption. Private adoption. Adoption through foster care.
That search led me to a foster care orientation meeting here in San Antonio. I walked in unprepared for what God was about to do in my heart. I listened. I watched. I cried.
I learned about the brokenness happening in our own community—children impacted by trauma, families unraveling under pressure, and a system stretched beyond capacity. I realized we didn’t have to go to a third-world country to find children in need. They were within miles of our home.
That night, a burden was born. And it never left.
Delayed Obedience Is Still Obedience… Until It Isn’t
Shortly after that orientation, God brought us our now nine-year-old son—not through foster care, but through adoption. Two weeks later, we found out I was pregnant with Logan.
Foster care plans were put on hold. But the calling never left.
Years later, God connected me with the Alliance for Orphans through a simple Facebook post. With their guidance and support, I helped start a foster care ministry at our church—step by step, prayer by prayer.
I was leading. Advocating. Mobilizing others.
And quietly ignoring the fact that God was calling us to foster.
I told myself I was overwhelmed. That our life was already chaotic. That I wasn’t the kind of mom I wanted to be. That surely God was just using my position to stir compassion—not to require obedience.
Then Jason brought it up.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
When Foster Care Exposes Everything
When we finally said yes, we already had four kids. Honestly, I was scared. Not just of the foster care system—but of myself.
I didn’t trust my capacity to love well. I worried about how fostering would impact our marriage and our children. I feared that adding more kids would expose all the places I already felt like I was failing.
And the truth? Foster care did strain our marriage. Jason and I parent differently, especially when trauma enters the room. It brought to the surface issues we’d been able to ignore for years.
But hard didn’t mean wrong. It meant necessary.
Our children were impacted too. We started with respite care—just two nights—and even that brought grief. We’ve experienced traumatic exits where children left scared and screaming, often with little notice.
One placement deeply impacted our adopted son. Even years later, fear still shows up in his words. When conversations turn toward adoption or permanence, he’s quick to remind us, “They aren’t staying. We don’t need any more kids.”
This is the part no one puts on the highlight reel.
Trauma Changed the Way I See Everything
Before fostering, I didn’t understand trauma. I thought children would quickly feel safe. I thought love and Jesus would fix everything.
Instead, trauma-informed training rewired how I see children, adults, and even myself. Behaviors stopped looking like defiance and started looking like survival. I learned that healing takes time, consistency, and support.
I also gained a deep respect for social workers and biological families. I had no idea what CPS workers witness daily—or how much weight they carry.
Many biological parents don’t lack love. They lack support, healing, and healthy models of relationship. Foster care shifted my heart from judgment to compassion.
God’s heart isn’t just rescue. It’s restoration.
Obedience Over Outcomes
There have been seasons I didn’t think I could keep going. The hardest was a five-month placement with a five-year-old and a two-year-old—constant volatility, exhaustion, and feeling like I couldn’t catch my breath.
But God was faithful.
When I didn’t feel strong enough, He helped me take one more step. One more day.
What keeps me saying yes isn’t confidence—it’s obedience.
My deepest desire is to hear, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” That means trusting God even when I don’t get to see how a child’s story ends. Trusting that the seeds planted matter—even when I never see the fruit this side of heaven.
God loves these children—and their families—more than I ever could.
Why the Church Still Matters
Fostering didn’t just change our family. It changed our church and our community.
Friends leaned in. Conversations deepened. People began to ask, “What’s my role?” Not everyone is called to foster—but everyone is called to care.
That’s how foster care ministry in San Antonio works best. When the Church wraps around families, shares the weight, and walks together for the long haul.
To the One Who Feels Hesitant
If you feel unsure about fostering, don’t rush past that tension. Sit with God. Ask Him to remove distractions and quiet fear. Ask for clarity—and be open to whatever the answer is.
He is patient. He is faithful. And He will make the path clear.
You don’t have to do everything.
But you are invited to do something.
And that yes might change everything.
