“Do you have a home for three girls, age four, seven, and nine?” She watched as a frustrated Ms. Jenna put the receiver down and sighed. Amber recognized that look from her mom. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good news.
It was painfully clear to Amber after the fourth call that nobody wanted her or her sisters. The day dragged on and the uncertainty of where they would spend their first night away from home set in.
Finally, there was some good news. A home had been found. Ms. Jenna pulled Amber aside and told her there was a home for her sisters but not for her. Amber’s face flushed red-hot. She could not leave her sisters. They needed her.
Another caseworker came to take Amber’s sisters to their foster home. They were inconsolable as they were placed in the car, crying for their big sister. Amber did her best to let them know that everything would be all right,even though she didn’t really believe it herself.
Ms. Jenna continued to make calls until evening, but there was no home for Amber. Amber ended up staying in a hotel that night with another caseworker and in the morning was driven back to school. She looked for her sisters but didn’t see them at lunch. That afternoon Ms. Jenna picked her up and told her that she would be staying in a shelter for a few days.
A few days turned into months.
The shelter had five rooms, but somehow twelve kids slept there. Amber was the youngest. The housemother didn’t seem to like her job. She yelled at the kids for eating too much and always wanted them to go outside and stop making so much noise. Without Teddy and her sisters, Amber felt very alone. Sleeping in borrowed clothes, in a strange bed, with kids who were teaching her things she didn’t want to know, Amber longed to be back with her sisters.
The court system gave Amber’s mom a plan to earn the right to get her children back.3 It included stipulations that she keep the boyfriend out of the house. Her mom showed up each month for supervised visits with Amber and her sisters but not much else changed. Amber looked forward to the visits because they reminded her of what life used to be like. It was the only time she could see her sisters. She wished she could take those moments in time and freeze them. She couldn’t wait for the day when they would be all back together for good.
Amber always looked forward to seeing Ms. Jenna. Her kind eyes made Amber feel at ease. But then one day Ms. Jenna told Amber she had some news. Her visits with her mom and sisters were stopping because the court had terminated her mom’s rights. The family that had taken her sisters in was adopting them. She also told Amber that she wouldn’t be seeing her as much anymore because she had found another job. The stress, low pay, and long hours had worn her out. She gave Amber her phone number and promised to keep in touch.
Amber was alone… again.
Her mom didn’t want her enough to leave her boyfriend. Ms. Jenna left. Her sisters were taken from her. Teddy was left behind. Amber knew it was her fault—she was damaged goods. She was sure that nobody would want someone like her. Maybe it would have been better if she were never born.
This is Amber’s story. And it is very real. Now I want you to imagine something:
Amber is your daughter…
or your sister or your niece.
Until we see Amber that way, as a member of our own family, most of us won’t respond. We may cry, but until we imagine our loved ones in her shoes, most of us will not act.
So are you mad?
Heartbroken?
Willing to open your home to Amber?
The system fails thousands of Ambers every year. The hope they have is extinguished, not because of the abuse they suffer, but because there is no one to intervene. Most people are oblivious to Amber’s suffering; others are too busy, indifferent, or emotionally spent to care.
Amber only needs one.
When I saw what was happening to the Ambers of the world, I got angry.
Things like this just shouldn’t happen.
Then I met a few people who were angrier than I was, but they had channeled their anger into energy. Their passion for justice and their focus on solutions created a synergy that sucked me in. It sucked a lot of us in. And then it unleashed a power greater than any one of us could have imagined.
I am not a rocket scientist but this sounds a lot like nuclear fusion to me. It starts with a single atom. Energy is applied to that one atom and soon atomic particles floating out there are attracted to that one atom. In a matter of time, this fusion becomes self-sustaining. It initiates a chain reaction with enough power to provide energy for thousands, or enough energy to destroy the entire planet. All this from one atom.
One initiates and leads to thousands of thousands. Have you ever gotten caught up in a chain reaction like this?
It Started with One Voice
The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.
—Edmund Burke
I remember when I first met Irene. She was on a mission. Her five-foot frame couldn’t contain her passion to protect children. It spilled over onto everyone around her. My wife and I were in a foster parent training class she had organized. That’s when I first heard how it all began.
Irene couldn’t take it any more. She couldn’t read another headline and simply hope that the foster care system would change. But what can one person do to change an enormous bureaucratic system? She began to pray. A few days later she heard about churches in California that had banded together to provide homes for children in foster care. She knew this could happen in South Florida too. She didn’t know how it would happen, but she knew she had to start somewhere. That day she became one voice.
Irene knocked on every door she could find. Day after day she talked to her friends, and even some strangers, about the situation. She continued knocking until a door opened. One church listened to her vision and took a chance.4 With a handful of volunteers, an office, and a small budget, the movement began.
As the church’s pastor, Bob, became more aware of the plight of foster care children in his own backyard, his burden for them grew. He approached his leadership and congregation with his desire to delay the planned opening of their Christian school. Instead, for one year the church would commit their resources to addressing this great community need. He shared his vision and his congregation followed.
By the end of the first year, more than forty families from this one church had committed to taking children into their homes. By the end of the second year, another seventy-five families had joined the effort. Volunteers lined up and donations began pouring in.
The growing momentum caught the attention of a local foundation who met with a group of community leaders to strategize long-term solutions. Together they forged a plan and committed significant resources to make it happen.
The vision was in motion.
The synergy caught the attention of another advocate named Rick. A former foster parent, Rick wanted to see this vision impact every church in South Florida. Using the skills forged during his work mobilizing churches for hurricane relief, he implemented an ambitious plan.
Several houses were purchased, the staff doubled five times and additional non-profits formed. Churches and community leaders throughout South Florida had joined the effort.
The unlikely partnership of one church, one foundation and a handful of individuals had brought the foster care crisis to a tipping point.
Ten years have gone by since Irene knocked on that first door.
It is hard for most to remember the hopelessness that existed just a decade ago. Although there are still problems in foster care, something has clearly changed.