From Foster Care to Faith

There was a time when I didn’t know what it meant to belong. I was the child who waited for someone to come back, the one who wondered why love always seemed to have an expiration date. I grew up in the foster care system where beds changed often, but the ache for stability never did.

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For years, I carried that little girl inside me scared, silenced, and searching for home. Wednesday’s Child was born from her voice, the one I buried to survive but could no longer ignore. This book is her story and mine but it’s also for every child who has ever been overlooked, every heart that’s had to fight to be seen, and every soul that has questioned if they were ever enough.

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Writing Wednesday’s Child was both a reckoning and a release. It meant facing the pain I tried to outrun, forgiving people who never said sorry, and finding beauty in the broken pieces of my past. But it also meant realizing something miraculous; that God never wasted a single tear of mine. Every setback, every separation, every unanswered prayer became part of a much greater redemption story.

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Today, I write not from my wounds, but from my healing. I write for the foster child who still lives inside so many of us. The part that wants to be chosen, heard, and loved without condition. I’m writing to say: You were never forgotten. You were never unworthy. And you are not alone.

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If this book reaches even one person who feels invisible, then it has done its work. Because Wednesday’s Child is more than my story; it’s a mirror for anyone who’s ever struggled to believe that broken beginnings can lead to beautiful endings.