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Foster Love

I still the remember the smell of the potpourri burning in the room where I was taken to in a home 5 blocks from my other temporary home. It was hot pink in colour and smell almost like cheap roses but it was the gesture that made me feel at home. The lights were dim and the room was set up for a guest, that guest being a foster child named Mitzi.

The feeling has never left me, We all experience critical moments in our lives, normally at a crossing point. A fork in the road. Where everything around you  seems to be blurry, thou other senses are heightened in the process of impaction. Emotions can be the feeling of the unknown.  It is scary place to be, when your a new teenager already traumatized. From an already disconnected environment. An environment of anger, screaming and yelling, destruction,  substance abuse and denial. For me the smell of cooking potpourri was what I remembered the most about my foster moment.

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One thing I have always wanted to do, is to get involved in so many organizations. When I was turned down years ago, at Big Brothers and Sisters; as well as turned down my application to volunteer to serve Christmas Dinner at the Brock Mission. 2 avenues I am passionate about. Children is misfortunate situations (not by choice) and homeless individuals whom brave the toughest of weather to survive. I made another promise to myself I was advocate for my own “Charitable Gifts” I provide on my own terms. I have donated 10% of all monies I collect in my various endeavors, including my career. Allowing around $4000 annually to my “deeds”

One being Operation  ” Foster Love”   I found things to be extremely odd, and amazing  how it came to be where I was sitting on the floor in a strange living room; looking into an adorable 8 year little boys eyes. Kayden looked  like a Mini Ed Sherran. his personality bursting with light as he raced around the living room. Stunned and excited about this mysterious person bringing a life sized bear with a candy necklace and 20 dollars to boot to a cool little kid like him.

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See, a few weeks ago I followed my heart and soul and it told me that this is what I needed to do. At first I thought, I would go into the hospital and surprize a struggling child. But that seems to easy to do. Although I don’t go looking for anyone to help; it comes to me. What I told myself and the children of mine was this ” I am going to find a foster child somehow; without looking”  Last week ,the family was at the local rink skating. As I have a foot injury, I was to spectate only.

I noticed an old coworkers arriving and we ended up connecting about what we are up to and how life is panning out. Low and be hold I was looking at this sweet boy, learning how to skate. He didn’t know it yet, but he was about to meet the one who would bring a message of love and hope a week later. My foster child was found and he was perfect.

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I was nervous, almost sick to my stomach as I  waited for the moment to drive up the road to #110 and enter the front door. I didn’t want to go to early and chances are I was overthinking the whole thing.  I have never been able to embrace humanitarian work so easily and gracefully.  I put the car in drive, took a deep breathe and off I went.  I remember what I told a cashier at the balloon store earlier that day. Our world needs more “Love” and I was able to keep the tears back and I grabbed the 15 pound bear and went to meet my new friend.

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I asked Kayden to tell me things about him that he wanted me to know. Oddly enough he told me the Principal of the school he attended in the Toronto,  made him cut his beautiful red hair because “Boys don’t have long hair” he told him. He ran his fingers through his hair, and shook his head a couple times for me a few times and I smiled. He was elated to know I loved his ginger hair.   I felt like my heart skipped a beat because a young boy who enjoys and accepts his looks that God has given him, then Why Not? Who is it hurting?  This must have been an impacting statement for a young boy to feel the need to tell me right when the horses are lose. I swallowed as I knew exactly what I wanted to tell him all along. Long before I knew I would meet him one day.

Sigh…. as I felt so happy to say it.

I said this ” You know what? I was a foster child too, who had families like you have to try and guide me the right way in life. What I was taught, was too ……  and I froze in hopes he would finish my sentence and as I started we said it together.

“They Taught me … TO ALWAYS BE ME” and we high fived.

To be Continued.

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Welcome To My Story

Cannabis Enthusiast : Craft Edible Creator : Recreation and Leisure Professional : Blogger
A Craft Edible Experience

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