When the kids first came to live with us, life felt like a whirlwind of joy, confusion, and caffeine. We were learning about them, and they were learning about us — all under one roof that suddenly felt much smaller.

One of my favorite memories from those early days happened at the mall. We had taken the kids shopping, and for the youngest, it was a whole new world. We turned our heads for what felt like two seconds, and when we looked back, he was standing inside the display window of a children’s store, trying to eat a fake piece of candy. When we called him down, he proudly said, “Don’t worry — it isn’t real.”

It was moments like that — pure innocence and wonder — that reminded me how much of the world they had yet to experience. There was something so beautiful about watching them encounter new things for the first time.

But not everything was lighthearted. Alongside the laughter came a heavy realization — these children carried deep wounds from their past. Some of what they’d endured was heartbreaking, and at times, terrifying. Sometimes they talked about it openly, but often it came out in their behavior.

We learned to live on alert, never fully knowing what might happen next. They might steal and hoard food, then eat until they were sick. They might try to intimidate or manipulate another child to feel in control. They hardly slept. We’d hear a sound in the middle of the night, get up to check, and find them already back in bed, pretending to be asleep — after accessing an iPad, a laptop, or something else they shouldn’t have touched.

Things went missing. So did our sense of calm. My husband and I started to measure peace in minutes, not hours.

Two months in, my social worker stopped by for her monthly visit. She looked at me and said gently, “Kari, you don’t look so good. Are you managing okay?”I remember smiling faintly and saying, “I’m managing,” because what else could I say? Giving up was not an option in my book. We had said yes — and I believed with my whole heart that we were called to this, no matter how hard it got.

Nothing could have prepared me for how completely my world would be turned upside down.
How we handled it — and what we learned from those chaotic early months — I’ll share in a future post.

For now, I’d love to open this conversation up.

💬 I’m Wondering…

1. If you’ve fostered or adopted, what were your first few weeks or months like? What surprised you the most?
   
2. If you’re currently in the thick of it — what kind of support, encouragement, or resources would help you most right now?

From my blended heart to yours 💛

Kari