It has been our honor to serve alongside you these last seven years. Though our time with you has been shorter than we expected, we are grateful to have spent these years with you learning and growing together, caring for one another, making a difference in our city and world, and being formed in Christ’s likeness.
You are a special community, Imago Dei, one full of beautiful stories that you share freely, inviting others to share freely as well. We’re so grateful to have been just a small part of the narrative God is writing here among you.
We are thrilled about your future and trust that the Spirit will continue to guide you into the church you long to become.
Therefore, we urge you, dear family –
Be faithful – beyond what’s normal or convenient. Stay when it gets hard. Show up when it’s messy. You’ll learn so much about who you are if you allow yourself to be transformed by Spirit-led fidelity.
Be open to learning and growing and changing. Your ability to try new things and see what sticks is such a good way to live as a faith community. Keep dreaming and discovering who God is calling you to be in the season at hand with the specific people who call Imago home.
Be kind – to yourselves and to others. Begin with kindness. Fill the gaps with kindness. End with kindness. Kindness is versatile and not as common as it should be.
Be quick to say I’m sorry and ready to try again a different way. A church filled with humility is such a safe place for all and that’s where you really shine.
Be honest with your questions and doubts and continued uncertainty even if you’ve been at this following Jesus thing for quite a while. Your willingness to say “I don’t know” helps others do the same.
Be grateful for the ways that you’ve managed to find solid ground again after so much has been torn down and seemed like rubble. Allow yourself to wonder what God can build upon that foundation. Look for the beauty that can come from ashes.
Be ready to laugh. Try not to take yourselves too seriously. You’re a brilliant, wise, thoughtful people, but the quirkiness and wit that lives here is such an important part of Imago. Life is more beautiful when the heaviness is broken up with shared joy.
Be generous with your time and your heart and your stuff. It’s all temporary anyway and it’s so much more meaningful when it’s shared.
Be hopeful. Cling to the deep truth that there is much more happening than what we can currently see. There is more beyond the daily grind and the anxiety that riddles our lives. There is more than the pain and injustices that fill our world. Hope is a powerful force. Take a deep dive in her healing waters, when necessary.
Be devoted to Jesus – to His life, His teachings, and His good-news-for-everyone gospel. Follow him the best way you know how. Point people toward him. Rest in him always.
He is faithful. He is good. He will lead you home.
As I’m writing this post, Dustin, the girls, and I are in the front yard on our fairly busy street. The girls have been riding their scooters for the last couple of hours, and we took a break to eat some takeout on a picnic blanket. It’s been a good evening.
Kristin is currently screaming, “Hello! How’s your day going?” to every single group of people that passes by our home.
It’s a beautiful weather, so she’s had quite a few people to talk with, or perhaps “talk at” is more accurate. Most people just smile, barely acknowledging she’s spoken to them.
So she usually just asks again a little louder, “How’s your day going?”
If they don’t respond, she then proceeds to share about how her day is going. “We love summer!” or “We’re riding our scooters!” or “My cousin gave me this helmet,” were some of her go-tos tonight. She’s an extrovert and just happy to see people.
The last people to pass by were a little more chatty. They’d been by once before, and this time upon their return, she let them know she loved their dog, their shoes, and their shirt.
“You’re so sweet,” they told her.
“Yep,” she replied. “I was born sweet.”
Her joy is contagious, so normally by the time people have finished listening to whatever she has to share, they’re smiling a little bit more. I think she feels satisfied.
As for me, I’m trying to get a hold of everything that’s swirling in my mind. So, I’m writing. Outside of talking Dustin’s ear-off and making unending to-do lists, writing is my way to process the constant deluge of thoughts. It’s not so much a plan as it is a broad outline of expected efforts and outputs. (This is growth for me.) I know this isn’t necessarily the time to be making goals, but I also know that our life requires us to show-up, so here are the areas that seem to need most of my attention. (Of course, this is all subject to change because we’re living through a pandemic, and some days all I want to do is eat cheese and watch Gilmore Girls.)
School – As I’m sure many of you are, we’re basically counting down the days to the end of this school year. The girls have done a pretty good job staying focused even with everything that’s happening in the world, but I’ve found my motivation is fairly unpredictable. Some days, I’m ready to dive in and teach, and other days we play some games, cook together, and call it a day. Our homeschool philosophy has always been pretty flexible as far as curriculum. We’re open to a variety of experiences and learning opportunities, so as we head into the final stretch of the year, we’re giving ourselves, and our girls, lots of grace.
Parenting – Our focus for the last two years in parenting has been this: become a stick-together family. When we’re flourishing and when we’re floundering, our aim is to find some way to actively stay on one another’s team. We get curious. Look for the need behind the behavior. Work on our own emotional regulation, so we can help the girls with theirs. Talk regularly to stay on the same page. This area of life can’t really be compartmentalized. It shows up in the middle of every other aspect of life, especially right now, because there are no good boundaries. Everyone is together all the time. Parents, I see you, and I’m with you. You’re doing such good, good work.
Home Projects – To be completely honest, I’m not as excited about this part of this month. I don’t mind chores or projects in general, but painting, deep cleaning, and home improvement stuff really isn’t my jam. Give me a pile of dirty dishes or a closet to organize, and I’m all set. Ask me to do some yard work, and you’ll hear some grumbling. But alas, being an adult isn’t always fun so projects are on the horizon. Hopefully we’ll be ready to list our home by the end of the month!
Community First! Village – One new addition to the to-do list for this month is getting serious about Dustin’s new role at Community First! Village. While we’re still wondering about our official timeline for our move, we know our next step is to invite our people to partner with us in this mission.
Dustin is looking forward to devoting his time to the Village and aiming to raise enough support to be onsite full-time. We see this ministry as the next step in his pastoral calling (and mine), and while it’s a new place, a new people, and a new way of doing life, there is also a deep sense of continuity with our current life. We have a deep love for God and for people and an ever-increasing commitment to being bringers of justice and good news to everyone.
By committing himself to full-time missional life, Dustin will be able to lean into the areas of ministry where he feels most at home, especially pastoral care and spiritual direction. His gentle, steady presence will be such a fit for this new role, and I’m incredibly excited to see the ways God will continue to move in and through him at CF!V. Just as he’s done over the last decade in local church ministry, Dustin will still be using his gifts to care for people as he helps them connect with God and one another.
We’re excited about the opportunities for him to care for both our new neighbors who were formerly homeless and our fellow missional residents. While those who are centered in society often receive spiritual direction and pastoral care regularly, these types of conversations and spaces aren’t always available to people on the margins. He’s looking forward to creating room for our neighbors to explore spiritual questions & dialogue, to dive into scripture together, and to try out spiritual practices individually and corporately. We know that the main part of Dustin’s role will be providing an attentive, relational, faithful presence. This will mean adapting to the needs that arise, and I’m confident Dustin will do that with grace and peace.
We are honored to be joining such an amazing group of people who call the Village home and we know we will be challenged, encouraged, and loved in ways that we’ve never experienced before. As with any new ministry role, flexibility and sensitivity to God’s leading will be essential, and we’re open to finding our best fit as we continue to get to know this new community.
So, this month, we’re working on a website, talking with potential partners, and praying for this next season. We’re looking forward to continuing to share our journey at the Village and are trusting that God will help us find some partners in this ministry who have hearts for those on the margins.
If you’re interested in learning more about Community First! Village, we’d love to share with you! Leave a comment or send us a message, so we can set up a time to chat.
There’s this thing I started learning when we were foster parents. It was this weird way of living that required us to be fully present and invested in our girls, fully loving and devoted, fully committed to their growth and their schooling and their best interests, while also knowing that they might not stay.
It was a strange way to live. Some days, I’d forget that there was a court system or that our future was completely in someone else’s hands. Some days I’d forget that these girls, who we tucked in every single night, weren’t ours forever. It seemed ridiculous (and a little unbearable) to imagine anything else.
But other days, the lack of control and absolute uncertainty would get the best of me.
I was standing at the clearance rack in Target. (Remember when we could enjoy walking the aisles of Target?) I was looking at the sweet little summer dresses and trying to figure out what size the girls would be the following summer, so I could buy some clothes in that size and put them away.
All of a sudden, I felt paralyzed. Why am I planning for next summer? What if they aren’t with us? What if they go back to their biological family? What if their little feet aren’t around when they get big enough to fit into these flip flops?
I started crying, overwhelmed at the truth of our situation. I was not in control. I wasn’t ever going to be in control. All I could do was choose to be present and to be faithful. So I bought the dresses and flip flops, put them in the bin in our basement labeled for the following summer, and reminded myself that God would be with us and with them no matter how the future unfolded.
I’m a pretty practical person, and I didn’t really see another good option for actually living life. Sure, I could have just taken things day-by-day or court date by court date, never getting ahead of the uncertainty that loomed over our home like a cloud labeled foster care.
Or, I could do my best to live, right in the middle of it. I could acknowledge my lack of control and live into the reality that is true for all of us – we never had control to begin with. Some seasons and situations just make it more apparent.
It’s really not unique to foster care. We’re all, right in this very moment, living in the middle of an unprecedented situation – a pandemic – but I don’t actually think uncertainty is unique to this season either. We never had certainty to begin with.
Somehow, I’ve convinced myself at times that I have control by clamping down on my timelines, my plans, and my contingency plans for when those plans fall through. Sometimes, when my privilege, my abilities, and my sheer luck overlap, I feel like I can decide how the future will go. But I really can’t. I can’t control what happens next. I can’t control when the stay-at-home order is lifted, or our church finds their next pastor to replace me, or the job that I’m hoping to have in Austin gets the grant that could fund my would-be salary and make our move more possible.
So we’re doing our best to live in the in-between. And I sort of feel like we’ve been doing that for a while.
Dustin and I went back in February and were officially voted in as missional residents right after we returned home. We shared the news on Facebook in early March and hoped to fill in the details the following week.
But then, things in the world changed.
I can’t even remember the timeline of how everything officially unfolded, but I remember watching the news and realizing we needed to start having conversations about what we were going to do for church when things in Illinois started shutting down.
So, as many did, we went into fix it mode. We learned Zoom. We revamped our Sunday Services. We checked in with our people. We set-up virtual pastoral care opportunities and food drives and mask-making efforts for the organizations we regularly serve.
I started working my second job from home as well, talking to potential foster parents over the phone. Completing online training. Figuring out how to support current foster parents without being able to see them in person.
We already homeschool, but we adjusted our schedules a little bit to focus more on fun and connection. We’ve cooked more. Baked more. Walked more.
We’ve been doing our best to be present to the season, to adjust to this wild, weird world we’ve all found ourselves in, and to support and lead our church the best we can. I’ve been so grateful that we’re still here to serve our community during this time.
But for many practical reasons, we also have to keep thinking about what steps we need to take in order to relocate. We feel confident about where this ends: when the timing is right, we’re transitioning from Imago, and we’ll be moving to Austin to join in what God is doing there.
I’m hoping to secure a job that allows me to continue serving the foster care community, and Dustin will be raising full-time support to devote his time, energy, and pastoral presence to the Village.
We’ll continue to homeschool our girls, using a flexible schedule that will fit our non-traditional lifestyle. We’ll be living in a tiny home, a 399 sq. ft. space that will be an adjustment and an adventure all rolled into one. We’ll be plugging into a new faith community, Austin New Church, and adapting to life away from our families who are mostly in Illinois.
It’s a huge transition, and we feel so much peace. Even in the middle of this, we feel a deep, unrelenting, confirmation of the decision that we’ve made.
So, what’s our timeline?
Well, as everything is right now, it’s up in the air. We were originally hoping for sometime in June, but now we’re thinking it could be more like the end of summer. We’re aiming to be flexible, while still working toward that future.
This time, we’re confident in the what; we just don’t know the when. And we’ve never been in a great hurry. While we’re here, we’re here.
As we’ve heard over and over again – these are unprecedented times.
We’re figuring complex things out in real-time. We’re adjusting our schedules, our jobs, our entire lives.
Right now, kids are home and inside for more hours than they’ve ever been before. Schools that used to take care of so many needs for kids (not just education) are no longer meeting in-person, but through e-learning. Churches that open their doors once or several times a week are now going online for their services and meetings. Small businesses are struggling and trying to stay a-float. Essential workers are working extra. Non-essential workers are hoping they can stay employed.
I could go on and on, but there’s no need to do so. You’ve probably spent more time reading and watching the news over the last few weeks than ever before.
This is all understandable. These are the precautions we’ve needed to take as a world-wide community to ensure that we “flatten the curve” saving as many lives as possible, and I’m grateful for a safe home and family to shelter-in-place with.
But I know this simply isn’t true for so many.
Families who were most vulnerable before this virus, are now, even more so. Jobs are being lost. Mental health issues are resurfacing or becoming more acute. Support from family and friends is now only offered at a distance for the sake of everyone’s physical health.
And because of this, it is unfortunate but easy to assume, many children are being mistreated at home to the point of neglect or abuse.
At some point, those situations will come to the surface. When we’re back in our regular routines, schools are back in session, parks and libraries are open, and events in our cities begin again, we will start to see the fallout from this time of isolation. Reports will come in of suspected abuse or neglect, and the child welfare system that tends to be burdened on its best days will almost inevitably become completely overwhelmed.
Much like the healthcare system will continue to be overwhelmed if we don’t stay home, the child welfare system will soon be flooded with far too many cases because we’ve stayed home.
Too much abuse. Too much neglect. Too many kids being removed for their own safety. Not enough staff. Not enough beds. Not enough families.
Sounds like a lot of doom and gloom, but I promise, I’m getting to the hope and beauty that I normally like to dish out.
Sometimes, beauty just comes from the ashes.
In the middle of the most difficult season many of us have ever lived through, our empty buildings and streets show that we are deeply connected.
We are working together to protect our most vulnerable by staying home right now. We can continue to work together to protect our most vulnerable by showing up later.
When these children begin to emerge from their homes and have deep needs that go beyond what the system can normally handle, we can show up. We can expand the state’s foster care capacity. We can offer another safe home, another safe family.
Let me be clear: I don’t think it’s always wise to make big decisions in the middle of the collective crisis that we’re experiencing as a world.
For many of us, making it to the end of the day is the best we can do right now. We’re trying to care for our kids full-time while working from home and somehow, also crisis-schooling. We’re figuring out how we’re going to pay the bills. We’re missing our friends and family. We’re worried and overwhelmed.
If that’s you, this isn’t a plea for you to overextend yourself or to be guilted into anything. The last thing children in foster care need is someone who jumps in as a foster parent without fully assessing the costs.
And there are definite costs. Foster care is complicated, and it’s not for everyone or for every season of life.
But for some of us who have suddenly found more space to process our lives, those of us who have experienced more quiet than we’re used to and begun listening to ourselves a little more closely than before, it’s possible that this time is somehow, unexpectedly, providing clarity.
We can feel things shifting in our hearts. We’re gaining new perspectives about what we want to hold onto and what we want to let go of. When it’s finally time to return back to normal, we want “normal” to look a little (or a lot) different.
Perhaps what’s emerging inside of you is a desire to support families and children in the foster care community. I encourage you to do it. Even when we’re far apart. Even from your home. Even when it’s hard. I’d be so happy to provide you with some ideas about how to get started.
Right now, there are foster and adoptive families in your community with kids who’ve already experienced trauma. Now, they aren’t getting their regular visits with their parents due to the virus, and they aren’t seeing their therapists in-person. They are trying to adjust to this new way of life, but they have so many factors that make it even more difficult. Your support would mean so much to them.
Perhaps for some of you, you’ve considered this before. In fact, you’ve told yourself that in another stage of life or when things slow down you’ll start the licensing process to become a foster parent. You’ll get the information. You’ll sign up for the classes. You’ll reach out to an agency.
If that’s you, and you have the mental and emotional space to do it, I encourage you to do that today. While you’re safe at home, I encourage you to make a phone call. Request some information. Ask some questions. You don’t have to make any decisions. You don’t have to say yes or no right now. But you could learn a little more. You could take the classes online while you’re home and waiting for this whole thing to end. I’d love to help you get started.
It is absolutely true – these are unprecedented times. And that means, we need an unprecedented response. A response that’s never been seen before. A response of immense compassion and intention. A response that cares for those who are vulnerable right now and cares for those who will still be vulnerable when we return to normal.
We’re doing it, and we can continue to do it. Together.
It was September. We had gotten the chance to tell Pastor Josh a little bit about our discernment process, something we really wanted to do before we moved forward, so I finally felt ready to head back to Community First. We loaded up the van and began our 15-hour road trip to Austin.
Our girls knew we were planning to be in Tulsa for our trip. They just didn’t realize we’d only spend one night there. Once we were on the road, we decided it was a good time to start the conversation with them.
We turned down the music, probably Taylor Swift’s most recent album, and told the girls we wanted to talk to them about the rest of our trip. We asked them if they remembered the movie about Community First! Village, we had watched back in May. When we’d come home from the initial tour, we brought back a copy of the documentary that showed the village and how the model for community worked in their unique neighborhood.
The girls immediately remembered. They had loved the documentary and had actually asked to watch it a second time. They loved the stories about the neighbors and Kaylynn particularly liked Alan Graham, one of the co-founders who spoke quite a bit during the film. We told them we were going to actually go visit the Village as a family for most of the trip. They were excited!
Then, we eased into the second part of the conversation, aiming to choose our words carefully.
“We’re actually wondering if the Village could be a good place for our family to live someday. Daddy and I loved our tour so much, and we could picture our family fitting right in. We wonder if God is sort of giving us an invitation to join in what’s happening there in Texas, so we wanted to bring you this time to see it for yourselves.”
I don’t think they quite knew what to say. They were obviously shocked, just as we expected them to be. We continued.
“Sometimes, when we’ve taken a big step in our lives, we’ve had a super strong feeling. It’s sort of in our stomachs, and the feeling tells us to notice something really important happening. When we were at the Village in May, we felt that feeling. Kind of like God was trying to get our attention. Do you know one of the other times we felt that feeling?”
“When?” they said.
“When we felt like God invited us to become foster parents.”
They filled in the rest of the story because we’ve told them how our family had come to be many times.
“You waited for two girls who would be your daughters, so you said no a few times to other kids who needed a home,” Kaylynn said.
“Yep. And when we decided not to have babies come from my belly and to become foster parents instead, that was a big decision. It felt something kind of like this. And when they called asking us about those other kids who also needed a safe home, we felt like we should still wait for two girls.”
“Us!” said Kristin.
“Yep. We waited for you. This might be a time kind of like that. But we don’t know yet. It’s sometimes hard to know what God is saying, but we try to learn to listen.”
They got emotional, and I immediately wanted to clarify. I didn’t want to make them feel like we had to do big, bold things to follow Jesus. Most of my life has just been ordinary acts of obedience. Everyday decisions. Small steps. On a rare occasion, I have gotten a strong sense of God’s leading in order to help me take a leap.
“But you know what, even if it’s an invitation from God, I don’t think he’ll be mad at us if we decide not to move. God’s not like that. He might just be saying it’s a special place that we could be part of. I think he’d still be happy if we stayed in Peoria and kept our same house, our same church, and our same jobs. Either way, whatever we choose, God will be with us and we’ll be together. But we want to decide together, so we want you to see it. You can get to know the neighbors to see what you think, and we’ll talk about it a lot more.”
The conversation went on for quite a while. Kristin put her headphones on to listen to more music and perhaps, check out of such a heavy conversation, but Kaylynn had more emotions she wanted to process and more thoughts to sort through.
She shared how much she’d miss Pastor Josh, Breakfast Club, and our nearby family. She also shared about how neat it would be to live in a village that helps people who used to be homeless. It was, in fact, her dream.
When Kaylynn was in first grade, she was impacted by visiting our local Salvation Army on Christmas morning. That day, we took our Breakfast Club on the road and met our friends where they were staying at the shelter. This was the first time the girls saw where they lived. After we served, Kaylynn got into the car and told us, “I want to open a homeless shelter someday.”
It was out of left field to us, and we just listened as she shared her thoughts. She wanted everyone to have their own room, activities to do, and a swimming pool so they could all have fun together. She thought they needed more there than what she’d seen, and she was pretty determined to make it happen.
Months later, when she was asked by her first grade teacher to draw a picture of what she wanted to be when she grew up, she drew this:
We honestly didn’t know she was still thinking about that idea, but it seemed to be a pretty big deal to her.
For that reason, and many more, we knew that if we decided to make the move, it would be a family calling. We were looking forward to seeing how the girls could fit into the rhythms of village life.
We stopped in Tulsa the first evening to spend time with dear friends, and then traveled on to Austin the next day, with a brief stop for lunch in Waco, because while we were open to the idea of a tiny home, we also love watching those amazing spaces that Chip and Joanna create on Fixer Upper.
We arrived that evening in Austin, and stayed at the Community Inn, one of the micro-business on-site at Community First! where neighbors can work and earn a dignified income.
The inn is made up of tiny homes and RVs that are rentable. People from all over the country (and even the world) can book one through AirBnB. They’re all well-maintained and inviting as they sit at the front entrance of the neighborhood near the outdoor theater. The girls were so excited to spend a few days in our airstream with the booth that turned into a bed!
We spent many hours over the course of those few days getting to know a little bit more about the community. We shared meals and coffee with missionals and heard stories of how they had uniquely been called to live there. We chatted with neighbors at the Farmers Market and at the Community Table. And the girls loved hanging out with the chickens and goats and enjoyed watching Aladdin at the Community Cinema.
We spent time talking with as many people as possible, and especially loved meeting the members of the Mobile Loaves and Fishes Executive Team, a sharp and passionate group of people who were approachable and incredibly humble.
Everywhere we turned, we seemed to encounter hospitable people who were grateful to be part of something so special.
Our girls jumped right in, as we thought they would. One of my favorite qualities both girls share is their ability to connect with all kinds of people. They have spent quite a bit of time around our church’s Breakfast Club ministry, and they’re incredibly friendly, wanting everyone to feel welcome.
Seeing them at Community First, where people aren’t just housed but are welcomed home, Dustin and I felt strongly that this move across the country would be a beautiful experience for our whole family. It would be a way to fulfill dreams that Kaylynn had been carrying in her heart for the last couple of years.
And while Dustin and I were definitely thinking about the ways our gifts and experiences could fit into the fabric of the Village, we were also aware that our girls had their own unique gifts to offer, right now. Those gifts weren’t something they would have to wait to use when they were older.
Instead, we could see their unique personalities – their joy and hospitality and love for people – immediately fitting in and filling gaps. They hugged neighbors they’d just met and introduced themselves to everyone.
But our favorite moments of the trip were probably during the house blessing, when we were able to help welcome a new neighbor, Linda, into her new home. The neighbors gathered to read the house blessing prayers, and our girls handed Linda the traditional housewarming gifts for her RV. Then, we walked to her new home, prayed prayers of blessing, and she welcomed us in. She’d spent four years living on the streets, and she was so happy to finally have a place to rest and call her own. It was beautiful.
Our girls seemed to connect with her right away, and she chatted with us for awhile, sharing that she wasn’t in touch with her family. We didn’t need to hear the whole story to know that when our girls hugged her, just a little bit of healing happened. Their presence mattered, and they offered a gift that none of the adults there could have given – acceptance and love from children.
We spent the rest of our time at the village celebrating Kristin’s birthday and connecting with more missionals. One of the missional families who has four kids (yes, they’re all in a tiny home) helped us celebrate.
They put up balloons and streamers and the kids all played together like they were old friends, running from yard to yard.
As we wrapped up the trip, we felt even more confident that this could be the next step for our family. We could picture our future, and it looked so bright.
It was mid-June. I was sitting outside reading a book and watching the girls swim in our pool, my absolute favorite way to spend a summer afternoon. Dustin got home from work and came out to greet us.
“I called Community First today,” he said.
“What?!” I replied. “What did they say?”
It had been exactly one-month since our tour at Community First! in Austin, and we had settled back into our regular rhythm of life – pastoring our church, Imago Dei, and spending time with our girls soaking up summer break after having completed our first year of homeschooling.
Dustin and I knew that our experience in Austin was a major deal, and the two of us talked about it fairly regularly. But we also knew that we owed it to everyone – ourselves, our girls, our church and our families – to take the process slowly. We wanted to let the impressive experience wear off a bit and return to our normal life. So we kept to the one-month timeline before we made that call.
Of course, I did spend more than a few hours during that month diving deep into the world of Pinterest & Instagram looking at remodeled RVs and dreaming about what it could possibly mean for our family of four to downsize and move 15 hours away to be part of this community.
If I’m honest, it was fairly difficult for me to keep everything to myself. When you have an experience that feels ground-breaking and life-altering, the effects of it don’t just go away by reentering into regular life. I’d find myself wanting to share openly with our close friends (who are also part of our church) but knew it was best to stay quiet and wait.
Our church had been through a huge transition over the last couple of years, and we wanted to give people time to breathe and relax. We wanted to continue to build a strong relationship with our newest co-pastor, Josh, and we wanted to make sure our community was adjusting well to all of the changes. Pastoral transitions are a major deal for some congregations, and our first commitment was to the church we loved.
So instead of sharing with our friends who were part of our church, we decided to begin processing our experience and sharing our behind-the-scenes feelings with a few of the people less connected to our daily life. These friends care about us deeply, know our hearts, and have walked with us through other big decisions and seasons. We knew that sharing with them would be a critical piece of our discernment process.
I loved those early conversations, and I can remember the initial reactions of pretty much everyone we shared with because there was such consistency in their responses. Whether they were our friends in North Carolina, Oklahoma, or Texas, across the board they listened well, affirmed who we are, and expressed their support of and belief in us. As we told them about the tour, the strong pull we felt toward the Village, and our thoughts since returning home, they didn’t scoff or laugh. They didn’t say we were absolutely ridiculous for considering such a move. Instead, as good friends do, they asked specific, needed questions about what it would mean for our jobs, our girls, our parents, and our church.
So when Dustin came home on that summer afternoon and told me he’d called, I was super antsy to hear what the conversation with Community First was like. I wondered if they’d ever had a family from out-of-state want to come join what they were doing. I wondered if this was something that was even possible for a family of four. I wondered about their structure for missionals, their roles and responsibilities, and the process for figuring out if we were a good fit for the community.
“They told me to email a woman named Nancy who oversees the missional program,” he said. “Now we wait to hear back from her.”
The next day, we heard back from both Ed and Nancy, a married couple who help individuals and couples who desire to begin a discernment process about missional life at CF!V.
Ed emailed back first saying he’d actually spent time in Peoria, having gone to ISU in Bloomington. He was familiar with the area and that immediate connection was unexpected. Later that afternoon, Nancy emailed as well, letting us know she’d love to schedule a time to talk to us over the phone.
Dustin and Ed actually got to talk first and had a great conversation. They chatted about our family, our experience on the tour, and our current ministry at Imago and in Peoria. They talked a little about Breakfast Club, our Sunday morning meal open to those in our local area who are experiencing homelessness.
I remember listening in on one half of the conversation as Dustin paced around the kitchen. When he hung up the phone, he filled me in on the rest of the details.
It seemed promising and we set up a time for the four of us to talk over the phone. Even in that early phone call, I could so clearly hear their passion for the Village, their love for their neighbors, and their enthusiasm about beginning the discernment process with us. They explained the basics about tiny home life, the adventure of living among the chronically homeless, and the ways their lives had been impacted by this unique community.
I felt an immediate connection to them and could tell our hearts were similar. I was excited about the possibilities and felt an even deeper sense of calling settling into my heart. I didn’t know such a place could exist. It was not a utopia with perfect processes or perfect people, but it was built on a foundation that seemed carefully crafted and intentionally maintained. Their ideas were so similar to the ways our Breakfast Club ministry had evolved over the years. They focused on relationships with people not transactions and tasks, and they communicated not just a desire to “serve” but to “be with” those who’d been on the streets. This type of language matters deeply to us, and I could hear the authenticity in their words.
So, we began the official discernment process – one that normally lasted anywhere between 9 months to a couple of years. This process was one that all missionals would go through, though ours would be different since we were the first out-of-staters who were seriously interested in engaging the process.
I felt comforted by the length of time they estimated for walking through the process. It gave me confidence that they cared enough to do things well, investing time and resources into finding the right people to be part of this beautiful community they were creating.
So we set up some mile markers. We definitely wanted to go visit again with our girls and planned to go back in September for a week. We wanted to make sure that we could picture our family of four thriving in the environment. Then, Ed and Nancy would come visit us in Peoria for a weekend later in the fall to see what our everyday lives look like. Then, if we were all still feeling good about the process and where God was leading us, we’d visit another time, maybe for a symposium. The symposium at Community First! is a three-day learning opportunity aimed at helping others from around the country understand the heart of not only the Village but the entire organization that birthed it – Mobile Loaves and Fishes.
We now had a plan, a loose one with flexibility, but one that would guide our next steps over the course of many months. I felt a sense of peace knowing that there was no rush for a decision. No need to push or pull on the timeline. We were in no hurry to leave and they were in no hurry to “recruit” us. We seemed to be in agreement that if this was the next step for our family, we’d find alignment along the way.
Of course, we had some practical details to figure out, especially about when to invite others into our process. We wanted to tell our families what we were thinking about and let our church leaders know as soon as we possibly could – but we didn’t want to jump ahead either. So we continued to hold things loosely – imagining the possibilities for the future while staying available to be engaged and effective in the present.
We continued to enjoy our family time – spending afternoons by the pool and running lemonade stands in our front yard. We continued to lead our church – organizing events, sitting with people in their joy and pain, navigating the ups and downs of leadership.
I even started something brand new by coming on staff at FamilyCore as their Foster Parent Recruiter. I am always thinking about ways to strengthen and support the foster care community, and even though I knew it might not be a forever job, I believed it would be worth it to pour my time and energy into an organization that I love.
Our life was still moving forward, even in the waiting, and that’s exactly as we hoped it would be.
And our next step? Preparing to share the Village with our girls when we’d visit again in September.
When Jen Hatmaker says, “You won’t believe your eyes,” I tend to pay attention.
For those of you who don’t know who Jen Hatmaker is, she’s an author, speaker, and podcaster, who has been leading me from afar for about a decade. I respect the way she lives in the world as she aims to follow Jesus, and I’m continually grateful for the impact she’s made on my life.
But this particular time, she didn’t just say some words online or in a book. This time, I was actually chatting with her in person, at her home.
Let me start at the beginning.
Dustin and I are part of a group called the Legacy Collective. It’s a unique group of givers who pool their money together through ongoing monthly contributions. Then, together, we decide how to distribute those funds by giving grants to nonprofits that are working to help make lasting change all throughout the United States and around the globe.
Every year, the founders, Jen and Brandon Hatmaker, invite the givers to their home to be part of an annual weekend together. We celebrate the good that is happening through these organizations and communities, and we even get to hear from some of them directly.
So last May, we travelled to Austin, Texas, for the Legacy Collective weekend. We spent Friday night with the Hatmakers and others from the collective, chatting about life and hearing stories about their cities and the nonprofits they’re connected to.
As the night came to a close and we were saying our goodbyes, Jen asked us if we were going on the tour the next day of Community First! Village, an Austin based non-profit that our collective had given a grant to a couple of times before. We told her we were, and she was obviously incredibly excited.
“You won’t believe your eyes,” she said. “It’s amazing.”
I had already been looking forward to the tour, but now I was really excited.
I’d heard about the Village before when Jen had mentioned it online. It’s a community designed to come alongside people who’ve experienced chronic homelessness, raising them up off the streets of Austin. I’d even read part of the book that the founder, Alan Graham, had written about the Village.
I knew the basics. Five businessmen – who were deeply impacted on a spiritual retreat – came together to start feeding people in Austin who were living on the streets, especially under the bridge. An organization was born – Mobile Loaves and Fishes – with food trucks serving daily meals all over the city. Along the way, a sixth person joined the founding team, a man who himself had been homeless. He added much needed perspective, experience, and heart, and he helped shape the organization’s trajectory.
After several years of feeding people, they began taking steps toward housing people that weren’t able to be housed through the other organizations in the city. MLF started by purchasing one RV for one person they knew, and the pattern continued from there. Soon they realized that they wanted to do more.
As they listened to stories and learned about the causes of homelessness, they began to believe that the single greatest cause of homelessness is a “profound, catastrophic loss of family.” So they embarked on a journey to find a solution that could actually address this deep need. This reorientation became the foundation for Community First! Village where the undergirding belief remains, “Housing alone will never solve homelessness, but community will.”
So, on that slightly chilly Saturday afternoon, Dustin and I headed out to see what this unique community was truly like.
We pulled into a small parking lot and came up on the Community Inn lined with several tiny homes available for rent and a beautiful, outdoor amphitheater. The place was pristine. Everything was maintained so well, and I immediately felt welcome.
Our guide, Daryl, met us at the front of the Village with his genuine smile and enthusiastic presence. He walked us through phase one of this beautiful neighborhood lined with nearly 200 tiny homes and RVs, a market and community garden, a health clinic and outdoor kitchens. We saw the Community First! Car Care, the Art House, and Forge.
We weaved up and down the roads, passing by neighbors that Daryl waved to and chatted with along the way. And we listened to Daryl’s story. He’d volunteered at the Village a few years prior, helping build some of the tiny homes for residents to move into and call their own. And as he spent time at the Village, he was drawn into the culture of love and belonging. He felt seen and known. His eyes filled with tears as he wrapped up his story, and it was clear to me that this place had forever changed the way he thought about, and lived, his life.
So he decided to start the journey to become a “missional” resident.
Missionals are intentional neighbors who choose to live at the Village to come alongside the community and share life with all of the residents. They give and receive love, offering their gifts, experiences, and stories to shape the neighborhood as they too, are being shaped. I was intrigued by Daryl’s story and the individuals and families who had chosen this missional life. It seemed that they were perhaps the most unique aspect of this one-of-a-kind community.
As we listened to the details of how everything had come together, how the neighbors relied on one another, how families who lived there called it the “safest neighborhood they’d ever been part of”, I continued to be amazed.
I couldn’t believe that this Village was funded solely from private donations. They were a place that nearly 220 people already called home, with plans to add on three more, even bigger phases. There was a city bus that came to make sure everyone could make it to other parts of Austin. There was fresh produce, community meals, and a church service that met weekly onsite. Residents could earn a dignified income by helping run micro-businesses that fit their skill sets.
This neighborhood seemed to be the best of what we knew of permanent supportive housing solutions, but it was also filled with values for autonomy and dignity that were undeniable. There was a spirit of genuine hospitality that permeated every nook and cranny. We had just walked the grounds of something incredibly special – a village that was clearly built on community and Jesus and love.
As we made our way back to the front of the neighborhood, the rest of our tour group departed, and Dustin chatted with Daryl for a little longer, asking lots of questions. But I was distracted.
Jen was right. I couldn’t believe my eyes. And I couldn’t deny that something in my heart seemed to have shifted.
As I stood there waiting, I felt the presence of God in a way that’s only happened a few times in my life. It was so evident yet so peaceful – like a small voice that won’t be denied or silenced. The voice was simply offering something, something that I didn’t even know I’d been longing to have.
“Here it is,” the Spirit seemed to whisper. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” I responded. “You love it, don’t you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she whispered back. “Do you want to be a part of it?”
Then, all at once, I realized the agency I have in my own life. The God I aim to follow is so gentle and kind. There was no pressure or even persuasion. Just a peaceful invitation to join him where he was already working.
Of course, he was working back home too, right in the middle of the church we love and the people we were serving there. He was working in the Peoria foster care system that I had dreams of continuing to support, and he was working in the friendships that we had formed and the family that was nearby.
God had sustained us through so many seasons of trial and difficulty over the last six years that we’d made our home in Peoria. We had finally found a rhythm we were loving and thriving in.
Could this really be the time to consider such an invitation?
And yet, the pull was undeniable. I thought about the invitation again and wondered what a response could mean. What we would gain and what we would lose.
I looked at Dustin and wondered what he was thinking, though I could tell that his wheels were turning and his heart had been stirred. When you’re with someone for nearly 17 years, you start to learn the signals.
We got back to the car.
“What do you think?” I said.
“It’s amazing,” Dustin responded. “I think we should come back and learn more. Maybe do something like this in Peoria.”
“I think we should move here,” I said, and I burst into tears, overwhelmed but in the best of ways.
We talked and talked, for hours the next day, and into the following days.
“Let’s contact them in a month,” Dustin says.
“That sounds good,” I replied.
We pondered and prayed. And waited. We looked at RVs online and had conversations about what this type of decision would mean.
And we also kept moving forward, living the life we currently love.
But every single night, when I was getting ready to fall asleep, I couldn’t deny the invitation’s pull.
“Do you want to be a part of it?” rang over and over again in my head.
It was hard to imagine an answer other than, “Yes.”
It’s 14 degrees outside as I write this, which is twenty degrees warmer than this morning when I was celebrating Valentine’s Day at our dining room table with Dustin and our girls.
It was a quick, fun morning, and while I wished I could stay home and avoid the cold, I was looking forward to coming into work. I reminded the girls we’d have a special dinner tonight to finish up our celebrations.
“What is it?” they asked.
“You’ll see!” I said as I hurried out the door. Truthfully, I’ve been looking forward to homemade pizza with heart-shaped pepperoni all week.
I got to work and had a busy morning, but this afternoon, I decided to check on our foster parent resource closet. I wanted to see what clothing sizes we need for kiddos who come into care with nothing but the clothes they are wearing.
“All of the sizes,” I quickly realized as I straightened up the few items that were left on the shelves.
As I refolded and relabeled a couple of sweatshirts, I noticed one particular pair of really snuggly pajamas. The kind with the feet and one-long zipper. My girls always insist these won’t be a problem in the middle of the night when they’re groggy and making their way to the bathroom. But knowing my younger daughter, I tend to imagine otherwise. So, much to their dismay, I usually opt for buying them two-piece pajamas.
These cozy footed pajamas really did look perfect for the bitter cold day we were having. And as I grabbed them to check their size and put them in the best spot on the shelf, I realized they were just a little bigger than what my 8 & 9 year old daughters wear – a size 10. The design was super cute – pink with polka dots featuring a cute cartoon-like dog that lots of elementary girls would probably love wearing.
I wondered which little girl would end up with them. Which little girl who was leaving her home at a moment’s notice would wear those pajamas as she climbed into an unfamiliar bed on her first night away from mom or dad.
I wondered how difficult it would be for our licensing team to find a placement for her. Would we have an available family who was willing to welcome a little girl who was most likely 9 or 10 years old? All of our homes are pretty full right now, not to mention the fact that in child welfare, 9 or 10 years old is considered an “older child”.
But when I looked at those pink polka dot footie pajamas, I didn’t picture an “older child”. I pictured my girls, still young and playful, snuggled up in their bunk beds, surrounded by their favorite stuffed animals.
I pictured them happy and chatty, asking for their bedtime song and for Dustin to pat their backs. I pictured them settled and cherished and loved.
I thought about our good days together over these last almost five years. So many special days like today filled with laughter, small gifts, and over-the-top food. And I thought about our rough days – the ones filled with tears and big feelings and my expectations that are probably too high for everyone.
And then I said a short prayer while I held those pajamas. Nothing major. Just a silent one asking God to be tangibly near to the little girl that will wear those pajamas.
When I pray those types of prayers, I guess what I really mean is, “God, will you move in the hearts of the foster parents that this particular little girl needs. Will you help them and strengthen them and give them the courage to say yes? Will you help that sweet girl who is walking through some kind of difficulty right now to know that she is loved, even when life around her might be a mess? And somehow, can these pajamas be a tiny reminder to her that she is loved and cared for, not just by the family that welcomes her in, but by the God who created her? And will you help me in all those same ways?”
I guess it isn’t a simple prayer after all.
Foster care isn’t simple. Moving homes isn’t simple. Changing families isn’t simple.
But you know what is simple? Buying footie pajamas.
So maybe I’ll stop by the store on my way home, and grab a few pairs.
After all, they’re still little, and I’m so lucky to be their mom.
No one that I know has just woken up one day and decided to become a foster parent, which is probably good (it’s definitely not something to be entered into on a whim) but it’s also too bad.
As a foster parent recruiter it would make my job much easier if I just came into the office each morning with a full inbox of emails from people inquiring about the steps to becoming licensed and welcoming a child into their home.
Now, of course, I do get inquiries. And I follow-up with those people as quickly as I can. But even those individuals who are on the other end of the phone asking questions and setting up a time for me to come look at their home, didn’t just wake up that morning and decide to give FamilyCore a call.
They have a story that has led them to that particular moment.
And that story is usually years and sometimes decades long. While these stories are, of course, unique to each person or couple that is taking this step, there’s seems to be a simple common thread: somehow, they’ve caught a glimpse of what foster care is like and think – “I could do that and it would be worth it.”
Sometimes the person has grown up in foster care and now wants to provide for kids who are going through the same experience. Sometimes they’re a teacher or health care professional who works with these families and wants to serve as they aim to reunite. Sometimes they have known a foster parent and have watched that journey unfold. Sometimes they have had difficulty having biological children and are exploring other ways to care for children. Sometimes they had brothers or sisters who joined their family through foster care, and they want to do what their own parents did by opening their home.
Whatever the story is, it’s somehow connected to the very real need that is present and the change that can happen when good people get involved.
It’s at this intersection of dire need and unrelenting hope that I believe my job exists.
As a foster parent recruiter, I fill my days with a variety of tasks. One of the main goals I set for myself is to bring awareness by building connections in our local community.
Sure, I want to find individuals and couples who are willing to welcome children into their home by becoming licensed foster parents. But in order to do that well, in order to find the right people at the right time, I’ve begun to think of myself as first being a part of their story – I’m that lady they heard talk once. I shared about the child welfare statistics in our area or the opportunities to serve or the stories of impact. I posted something on Facebook about foster care and they happened to click on the article to actually read it.
To me, this sharing is one of the building blocks of a successful foster parent recruitment strategy. No one is going to jump in to meet needs that they don’t know exist.
And we don’t just need more foster parents. We need you, with whatever gifts and talents and experiences you bring to the table.
So I spend some of my time talking about the ways we can show up. Not by jumping in at a level that is beyond our real life capacity, but at one that matches who we are and what we can actually contribute. I believe that if we show up to the invitation, good things will happen.
The needs of the foster care community are vast and varied. This means we can show up in all sorts of ways.
We can show up by making meals or rocking babies or reading stories or organizing a closet or cleaning visiting rooms or offering a listening ear.
We can show up by running a diaper drive or hosting a training session or teaching a teen to cook or advocating in the courtroom. We can show up by baking a dessert or running a powerpoint presentation or putting together a care package or designing an event flier.
And you know what? When we show up, we begin to impact a system that can too often feel impersonal and messy. When we show up we infuse that system with personhood and connection. When we show up, we offer not only our time and our talent, but most importantly, our hearts.
And the best part of all is that things really do change. Sure, systems can be overwhelming and slow moving. But systems are just made up of people who are longing to be noticed, supported, and loved.
So let’s show up. Let’s do what we can with what we have. Let’s believe that things can be different for these families and kids. When we do, good things happen.
Workers feel more appreciated. Parents feel more seen. Kids feel more supported. Foster parents feel more sustained.
All of it matters. All of it.
“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” – Margaret Mead
This means that the hustle and bustle is constant. Co-workers are in and out, updating files, printing court reports, making sure their kids’ placements have been properly documented as they’ve moved to yet another home in their foster care journey.
Sometimes they’re chatty. They share about a tough case or celebrate when some kiddos finally find permanency. Sometimes they ask about my girls or our church.
I really enjoy my co-workers. They’re personable and dedicated, and I’m proud to be on their team.
Some days, like today, are a bit different in my office. People seem even busier than normal. They’re still in and out to use the copy machine and printer, but there’s less chatting and more rushing. I notice their quickened strides and tired eyes.
Today, I can almost feel the stress they’re experiencing as they hurry to complete all they have to do, looking forward to a weekend that they’re so desperate to reach.
I can sense overwhelm in the air. I think it lingers just above our third floor happenings everyday, but on particular days, it seems to settle in, descending like a fog.
It’s days like these, when the air is just a little bit thicker, that I assume we can all feel it. This work always matters, but sometimes there’s a deeper sense of the immensity of the job.
Kids have to leave homes at a moment’s notice. New cases come pouring in. Caseloads grow too quickly for anyone to do much more than tread water and hope for the best.
These workers, who buzz around the office, are crucial to the child welfare world and our community at large.
They’re the ones visiting children in their foster homes – once, twice, sometimes three times a month. They’re the ones building rapport with foster parents, getting to know their clients, and coordinating ever-changing schedules. They’re the ones sitting in the hospital waiting room on the weekend when there’s no bed for the teenager who needs to be admitted for their own safety.
They’re the ones showing up to court, thick files in hand. And they’re the ones who sometimes wait hours for the judge to call the case, all the while mentally calculating how many extra hours they’ll now be working this evening to make up for the delay.
And these workers, who come in and out of my office with exasperated sighs, carry stories. Stories of trauma and abuse. Stories of struggle and pain. Stories of redemption and hope. And stories that haven’t been made quite right.
It’s no wonder that this job had such turnover. Who could carry it all? The brokenness of this world can be too much at times.
And yet, these case workers, my co-workers, keep showing up. When I arrive back at my desk for my next day of work, there they are.
Back to the mess and the hard. Back to the kids who depend on them to be their advocates. Back to the parents who are working diligently toward reunification. Back to the cases that take years to close. Back to the workload that continually seems to expand.
I’ve never had the honor and burden of doing case work, but I’ve been around long enough to know, this calling is not for the faint of heart.
So to my friends and co-workers who show up daily, thank you. Your commitment makes our community better, and we’re grateful for the sacrifices you make.