Our Story

When I began volunteering at Wake House in Raleigh, NC in 2009, I had no idea what to expect. I had sought it out on a whim--I had seen multiple reports of children running away, and my curiosity got the better of me. When I first showed up on the door step, I didn't even know what it was. My boss had mentioned that it was some type of foster care facility, but even Google didn't have a good idea. Most of the employees were either confused or suprised, as none of them had ever heard of someone wanting to volunteer there. And the kids? They were convinced I was there for some other reason--to fufill school requirements, as part of my job, or they just thought I was getting paid to be there. They couldn't understand why anyone would spend their spare time hanging out with them, when I could have been doing so many other things. I wasn't so sure myself, but it didn't take very long for me to become convinced I was in the right place.

Wake House is a foster care group home owned by Wake County in North Carolina. It is a temporary housing facility, meaning the residents can only stay for a maximum of 90 days before they must be placed somewhere else, be it a foster family, another group home, or a theraputic facility. This particular property houses only boys, from the ages of 8-18. There are many shortcomings of the foster care system, some that have, at times, brought me to both extreme anger and to tears. There are also many other children in that facility, whether there for 9 days or 90, who have touched my heart in different ways. But this blog is not about them, and I am going to do my best to stick to the reason I'm writing in the first place.

I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. Not in a religious way, or a crazy "your destiny can't be avoided" kind of way, but I have realized that everything always works out in the end. I'm reminded of a quote, although I can't recall who said it...."Everything is always alright in the end. If it isn't alright, it isn't the end." I think we are faced with choices everyday, and I'd like to think that I made the right choices, as they have brought me to this moment.

When I began my first day of volunteering, I met Joel Noble. I could go on for pages about Joel, and how he came to be such a signifigant presence in my life, and I in his. I could tell you story after story about how we got from my first day of volunteer work to where we are now. I could tell you about the lying, the drugs, the days spent in court. I could tell you about the love, the forgiveness, and the space in my heart I didn't know I had. But no matter how many stories I told, you probably wouldn't understand how we got to where we are, simply because I don't understand it myself.

When I first met Joel, he was on house arrest. I of course only got his side of the story, and in working for the police department, I have learned to take the criminal's side of the story with a grain of salt. Yet Joel seemed truly dedicated to turning his life around, and he was just 2 months away from aging out of the foster care system. He was terrified of ending up homeless, which is what happens to childen in foster care who age out at 18 and have no family or friends to turn to. As Joel asked for my help, my husband's voice resonated in my head: "You can volunteer there as much as you want, but don't bring them home with you."

I threw myself into helping Joel. I decided if Joel wanted it for himself, then I was willing to help him. We spent endless evenings driving around town, trying to find employment for him, filling out job applications. After 3 weeks of searching, a new burger joint called Uncle Fatty's offered Joel a position as a cook, flipping burgers. With his newfound employment, we went on the hunt for an apartment, and by some miracle found a small studio for $400/month, all utilities included. I went with him to meet the landlord, who decided to give Joel a chance. So many people, taking chances on someone. Had just one of them hesitated--he wouldn't have made it. Joel moved out of Wake House and into his apartment on his 18th birthday, November 11th, 2010.

It's only been a little over a year since that day, but it feels like a lifetime. We have been through so many ups and downs, so many experiences. Joel has crossed me and lied to me, and I've said I was throwing in the towel every time. And every time, I forgave him. I found a little more space in my heart that I didn't know I had, and I realized that most of these issues were tests on his part, wether concious or unconcious. When you come from a family where you can trust no one, and everyone else looks out for only themselves, it is probably quite difficult to believe that there is someone, who is essentially still a stranger, that is looking out for you. It has taken its sweet time, but through the highs and lows, I think Joel has finally realized that family isn't always blood, and blood isn't always family.

On December 15, 2010, my husband and I are moving to Charleston, SC--and we are taking Joel with us. (Yes, we may possibly have lost our minds. And no, we don't know what we're getting into.) I made the decision that at the end of the day, I have to be able to say I did everything I could do within my power to help him. If I leave him here in Raleigh, with no family, no support system, and no one to expect anything of him, then I didn't do everything I could do.

Joel becoming part of our family was extremely unexpected. Every time my head told me to walk away, my heart told me to stay. From this point on, I only hope that I can show him what a family SHOULD be like, what love SHOULD feel like, and what a truly happy life is. The support from friends and family has been astounding to me, and I hope this blog will help them follow the next part of our journey, as we continue on our adventure.

Although this post should probably end there, I feel a need to recognize my husband for his support and dedication. We started this experience with "don't bring them home with you," and are now opening our home and hearts to Joel. My husband is not outward with his emotions, and can often be hard to read--but it is obvious that he cares about Joel. Perhaps he tolerated my initial dedication to helping Joel turn his life around, but it is plain to see that he has grown from tolerating it to embracing it. He deserves some sort of award for his patience and understanding with me.

My mother always told me I couldn't save the world. She was probably right. But I can sure try, one person at a time.