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From the launch of our website and Facebook page in April of 2016, to formalizing our bylaws and Articles of Incorporation that June, to receiving and distributing essential items out of storage units through the summer and fall… the growth was immediate and tangible.

What started small didn't stay small for long. Before we knew it, we had served hundreds of children through this growing village. And while the tangible items were the entry point, we quickly realized that the connection was where the true magic happened. We started hosting Family Gathering days at local farms and ranches with foster and kinship families driving from hours away to join us. Three little words began to echo throughout every connection made: I get it. It became increasingly clear that a safe space where caregivers felt understood and less alone was the most sustaining factor everyone was longing for.

And as word spread and awareness grew, so did opportunities for connection with the very stakeholders overseeing the well-being of these children and families. I started meeting with local judges and policymakers who were intrigued and inspired by what we had known all along: the community had a strong desire and willingness to play a critical role in the child welfare system.

With the growing needs and opportunities came growing responsibility. Expenses increased, and the work became more complex. And what began as a grassroots, 100% volunteer-run movement needed a more sustainable foundation to support what was unfolding.

In May 2016, I filed all of our nonprofit and 501(c)(3) paperwork, hopeful it would be processed quickly so we could begin fundraising as a tax-exempt organization. But as these things often go, the weeks stretched into months. Each day brought another prayer at the mailbox, waiting for that one letter.

As we approached the holiday season, when charitable giving is at its highest, that waiting became heavier. What if it didn't come in time?

Then, in November, I received a call from a woman who had been given my contact information by one of the very first foster families we served. This family had welcomed a large sibling group into their home, and we had the privilege of rallying the community around them — providing carloads of essentials, support, and reassurance that they weren't alone.

She told me her company hosted an annual Shark Tank-style philanthropy event, where nonprofits pitched their mission to employees who then voted on where to direct a $15,000 corporate gift. She shared that she had heard how impactful Foster Village had been for this family and wanted to invite us to apply.

I was both honored and hesitant. We were still entirely volunteer-run. Still waiting on our 501(c)(3) designation. Still very new. But we agreed to move forward with hopeful optimism and the understanding that, at the very least, it would be an opportunity to practice sharing our story alongside more established organizations.

As the mid-December pitch date approached, the letter still hadn't arrived.

I created a simple PowerPoint, and my husband Nick (one of our founding board members) joined me as a co-presenter. We sat in the parking lot before going in, feeling the weight of the moment and praying that the heart behind what we were building would be clear.

Inside, we presented alongside other organizations that were polished, experienced, and compelling. We went last. I remember feeling out of my depth — but also deeply grateful for the chance to share our small but growing mission.

On the drive home, I remember thinking, If nothing else, that was good practice.

As we pulled into our neighborhood, my phone rang.

It was the woman from the company.

I answered, expecting to hear that another organization had been selected. Instead, she told me how moved the employees were — by the mission, by the story, and by the vision for what Foster Village could become with the right resources. The vote, she said, was nearly unanimous.

They had chosen Foster Village.

Tears filled my eyes as I tried to process what $15,000 could mean for the families we were serving. And then, almost immediately, reality set back in — the one thing we were still waiting on.

The letter.

I explained that our 501(c)(3) designation hadn't come through yet. We both felt the weight of that moment, the excitement and the uncertainty, sitting side by side. She shared that they would hold onto the check in hopes that the letter would arrive before the end of the year, just a couple of weeks away. But if it didn't, they would likely need to give the funds to the runner-up.

I hung up the phone, grateful and overwhelmed, but aware that everything still hinged on something completely out of our control.

As we pulled up to our home, I walked to the mailbox.

I sorted through the usual stack — Christmas cards, flyers, everyday mail — and there it was.

The 501(c)(3) designation letter.

Arriving on the very same day we had shared our story with a room full of strangers… who had responded by choosing to believe in it.

A perfectly timed reminder that this work, this village, was part of something much bigger than all of us.

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