It’s 1:30 in the morning, and I’m standing outside a foster home in the cold, exhausted and trying to keep myself calm. This is Emergency Shelter Care—unpredictable, often difficult, but always a life-saving necessity.
My day started typically enough. Staff and team meetings until noon, some phone calls with foster families. I even got to wish one of our foster dads, Pete, a happy birthday on his actual birthday. But by the afternoon, everything shifted.
Regina, my counterpart Social Worker with the Department of Social Serivces (DSS), called to say that Jennie, a 16-year-old girl, had called her wanting to re-enter care. Jennie had been on the run for six months, living unsheltered with a young man who she thought was her boyfriend. Through tears, Jennie told Regina that he had been sex trafficking her with the use of drugs and alcohol. She had managed to run from him and was in desperate need of help.
I then called Pete and his wife, Marcy. After explaining the situation, the couple who were Emergency Shelter parents quickly canceled their birthday plans and started prepping their home for Jennie. “This is what we signed up for,” Pete said simply when I apologized for the short notice. Their willingness humbled me—especially knowing Jennie’s difficult history: her mother’s murder when she was only three, years of abuse at the hands of trusted family members, and a long series of foster home changes that she happened through no fault of her own.
By late afternoon, I had gathered a donated “Sunshine Sac” full of toiletries and comfort items, plus a gift card for clothes—knowing Jennie would likely arrive with nothing. I felt hopeful. But then Regina called. Jennie was a no-show at their meeting spot. My heart sank.
Hours later, when my day was supposed to come to an end, Regina called again: Jennie had called her. She was ready to come in.
And so, we all began preparing again.
All names and details changed for confidentiality.
