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If Hurricane Harvey made it clear that Foster Village needed a home base, the little yellow house became the answer to a prayer that had started years before Foster Village ever existed.

Long before there was a name, a logo, or even the first Welcome Pack, there was a picture I couldn't shake.

I remember driving down the highway one summer day in 2015 when a vivid image came to mind seemingly out of nowhere. It was a scene of a little yellow house with big oak trees and dozens of kids running barefoot through the grass. As a stereotypical visionary, these "random" visual moments are not uncommon for me, but they're rarely random. They're usually a glimpse of something bigger on the horizon. This one was so vivid I called my husband, Nick, right then to tell him about it. We laughed and wondered aloud what it could mean (would we have dozens of kids someday? ha!), then tucked it away like a photo in a drawer, a "maybe someday we'll see."

A couple of years later, in the whirlwind of launching Foster Village, that photo was far out of sight and mind. Our focus at the time was practical: find a space, any space, that could hold the growing weight of what the community was building. We toured multiple commercial warehouse spaces checking all of the boxes of square footage, lighting, climate control, and location. We had seen several other "foster closets" utilizing similar spaces with ease and efficiency. But each time we walked through one, something in me stayed unsettled. The math and practicality worked. The feeling didn't.

Then one night, scrolling through commercial listings on LoopNet, something different caught my eye. Nestled among the warehouses was a seemingly random house. I clicked and there it was. The same yellow house that seemed to be a figment of my imagination in 2015, standing in front of me on a screen years later, as if it had been waiting for just the right moment. I clicked through the images and found the backyard: oak trees, leaning toward one another, exactly as I'd seen them. I teared up and carried my laptop straight to Nick. "Remember years ago when I told you about the vision I had of a yellow house with big oak trees?" "This is that house."

We knew it was the place before we ever set foot inside. Piece by piece, it began to make sense: Foster Village's home base was meant to feel like home. What was once a house where people lived could become a home where everyone belongs. Safe, warm, and home-like in the way that asks nothing of you. A place where families could finally exhale amidst the chaos of foster care. Where children could simply be children. Where community would gather the way people naturally gather around warmth.

When we met with the owner, the confirmations kept coming. The house had only ever been a residence, so she wanted the neighbors' blessing before we signed anything. We walked next door and knocked. Gordie answered, and when we told him what Foster Village hoped to build, his whole face changed. He called his wife out to meet us too. They'd been foster parents once, back when their kids were young. "I wish we'd had something like this when we were fostering," he said. "How do we sign up to volunteer?" Gordie and his wife have never really left — steadfast supporters and fellow caretakers of the resource center all these years later.

That same day we first toured, as Ellen, Nick, our realtor (also a foster dad), and I walked through the backyard of oak trees, I remember saying, "It feels like a haven, the way the oak trees are all bent down and cradling this space. It's like an oak haven."

I then took it to the community with this social media post:

I first had this "vision" of a house surrounded by twisty oak trees about a year and a half ago. I had no idea what or when or where or how, but I knew there was something sacred in store.

Sharing this fun news from @fostervillageaustin and welcoming y'all into the naming game:.

What if there was a place...

- that was a warm, inviting, child-friendly environment where children placed in foster care could go to pick out everything they needed to help them feel comfortable in a new home.

- where foster families could gather for support groups, enrichment classes, and community resources.

- where community volunteers could come and use their gifts to encourage foster families.

- where children could climb trees and play in a developmentally appropriate, trauma-informed environment.

- where families could meet for visitations in a home-like setting, bake cookies, and explore nature together.

- where children could have emergency shelter that looks and feels like a home rather than a CPS office.

If such a place existed... what would you call it?

Foster Village is seeing one of our boldest prayers come to life and we want to include you on the journey. We will be making some exciting announcements soon, but wanted to give this sneak peek of our upcoming multi-use resource center for children in foster care and their caregivers.

We welcome your ideas on a name for this whimsical oak-filled haven! This place belongs to YOU, the village, after all

The responses were pretty much unanimous.

Our "Oak Haven" officially had a name.