Foster Care Video Series- Starting a Church based Ministry to help Orphans Webinar
November 26, 2010
Starting and Growing a Church-Based Orphan Ministry from Christian Alliance for Orphans on Vimeo.
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An Assessment of Resources to Support Transitioning Youth
November 23, 2010
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Video Series – Meet our Mascots….sooooo cute:)
November 20, 2010
If you think about it, our pets are fostered/adopted too (none of us are their biological parents)! Meet Tiger and Gizzy….
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Stories told by Former Foster Children – Clemmie Tony Brazil
November 19, 2010
Another amazing former foster child submits story……..
Separated As Kids, Founded by Faith
Date: March 7, 1993
Tony Brazil, is a true hero to his three sisters? No he didn’t save they there, but Tony put theirs and his back together again, against all odds. Until two weeks ago, 25 –year-old Tony Brazil, and his sisters Doris, 26; Christine, 23 and Gloria, 24; had legally separated from each other for the past 12 years. It was painful period in their lives, not knowing if the others needed help, or were even alive. But this Rocky Mount family held out hope through the power of God, and love, that one day they would find each other again.
Despite having both a mother and father when they were young, Tony says family wasn’t what you’d expect. Neither parent was around much, leaving the four young siblings, plus their baby brother Michael, at home alone many times. This almost cost them their lives, when Tony m then 5, set fire to the house one night in 1973. No one was hurt, but not being able to tell the police where their parents were got all five shipped out to foster homes. For years, the siblings moved from one foster home to another, always
Going back and forth to Social Services. But at least they could be together. Foster parents usually wanted babies, so Tony had the most difficult time being placed. But even that experience couldn’t prepare him for what happen 12 years ago. “ On a Monday morning, all five of u shad to go to court, with our mother up on the stand. And they asked her, Do you want (your children)?” and she said, No,” Tony remembers.
With their mother’s rejection, the siblings cried, knowing now that they’d be separated from each other forever. Christine and Gloria were lucky enough to be raised in the same home n Sanford, but the rest would be scattered to different towns, in different counties. Over the years, all of the sibling’s last names were changed when they were adopted, with exception of Tony, who came up hard in foster homes? Letters they would write to each other had to be given to Social Services, who would deliver them, but wouldn’t allow return address. Frustrated, as the siblings grew older, they stopped writing, but never stopped dreaming of finding one another. It was 1987 before Tony and Doris found each other again. She was senior in high school, and pregnant. They always talk about Christine, Gloria and Michael, wondering where they could be, and if they would want to be found. Seven years later last Jan. 14; tragedy struck, as Doris Husband and the father of her two children died of complications from diabetes. She was now a mother alone and she needed Tony more than ever. Doris and I got closer then, because I promised to take care of her and the children. But what prompted me to find my sisters was to make Doris happy, because when a life is taken, something is gained back, “Tony said. So two weeks ago after getting home from his overnight job, Tony couldn’t get to sleep. He heard a voice telling him to get up, and find Christine and Gloria in Sanford. He drove from Raleigh, and spent an hour and a half riding around Sanford, asking people if they knew his sisters. Finally, he found Gloria’s home, and when she drove up with her boyfriend, Tony was waiting, still not sure if she’d want to meet her older brother again after all these years. At first, Gloria refused to believe it was Tony. But when hr reminded her of the nickname she used to call him, “Pumpkin,” she broke down in tears and hugged him. This was her brother. Soon, she called Christine at work to share the joy, and even more tears of happiness were shed when they all went to see Doris in Rocky Mount. I cried for 30 minutes, “ Never thought it would happen” Doris recalls. By press time, Michael now 22 hadn’t been located, but Tony believes they’ll see him in time. There is another sister Nikki Nicole Henderson, daughter of their father by another woman, who will not share in the joy. At 22, she was killed in car accident last year. And as for their mother, even though she’s since seen them all together again, Tony says she refuses to acknowledge what has happened, the pain that they ‘ve suffered, and her responsibility for it. It’s what Gloria says she’s always dreamed of, and now makes her feel complete. That’s why she wrote a poem to her brother Tony. “Tony, you are my hero, no because you found us, but because you never gave up.”
Clemmie Tony Brazil
C.Tony Brazil Jr.
Click here to link to Clemmie’s blog
Related Reading:
Stories told by Former Foster Children – Helen Ramaglia
November 17, 2010
Here is another great email from a woman who was in foster care……
“I am a prior foster child, I was the first foster child allowed outside of America with foster parents in 1979 from Charleston, SC. I am a successful prior foster child who made my way without any help from literally no one, just pure drive and hard work. I am a married ex-banker for BB&T, opting to stay home and raise two adopted boys from foster care, whom we recently adopted. I now do speaking engagements for charities, mentor foster children, and am involved in camps for foster children. Below is my current speech and a poem I wrote for my prior foster parents years ago. I am currently working with a producer on my story and am trying to puts my memoirs together for a book.
I’m here tonight as a survivor, a survivor of the foster care system and it’s- a- broken system. I am also a survivor of child abuse. My childhood – is a horror story, a nightmare of unbelievable events that children should NEVER experience, much less live through, all at the hands of a violently abusive alcoholic father. My life has been a VERY difficult journey, but as painful as it has been, I have not allowed it to limit WHO I have become.
I stand before you today to share a JUST A SMALL GLIMPSE of the chaos that was my life before I became Foster Child.
My mother was a beautiful French woman, she was hard working, uneducated and loved her children very much. By the time this woman was 31 years old, her poor little body had all the violence it could take. The years of beatings at the hands of my father had taken it’s toll and she died when I was three years old.
After my mother died my family didn’t want to raise us, my brother, sister and I were 3,4 & 5. They kept my oldest sister who was about 8 or 9 because she could earn her keep. But us little ones – we were too much work. And although they didn’t want us, they didn’t want anyone to adopt us because they wanted to keep the money the government sent every month. So they let anyone, friends, acquaintances, whomever who wanted to parent three little kids have us. We were passed around to about 6, 7 maybe even 8 families before we went lived with my dad.
I was 7 years old when my dad remarried and we went to live with our new family, that was pretty much our first “real family” experience. Dad married a woman named Glenda and she had two boys our ages. Glenda was so sweet and she took really good care of us. Dad held a job, he bought a house for the very first time, he bought a new car, a boat, he was on the volunteer rescue team and was even a little league baseball coach. Believe it or not, my dad was the start to my stepbrother’s baseball career. Many years later Larry, my ex-step brother was drafted to pitch for the Atlanta, Braves. Unfortunately, Larry was tragically killed on the way to spring training. But my dad was the start of his career. This violent alcoholic had become an upstanding citizen.
This wonderful life lasted for about a year and a half. Out of the blue he started drinking again and the violence started again. Glenda left my dad several times. She was so concerned for our safety that she took the three of us with her. But taking us, meant having to return to the same abusive life she left. One day, after having a loaded shotgun put to her head, she knew . . .she- knew- her only way out was to leave us behind. She knew her life depending on taking her two sons and leave behind the three children she desperately wanted to save. This wonderful, good hearted woman had to choose between saving us and living.
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Glenda had been gone for a several weeks when out of the blue my father told us to put on a nice outfit and get in the car. We were now 10, 11 & 12. We didn’t know where we were going we merely got dressed and did as we were told. With violent alcoholics, YOU- NEVER -QUESTION -ANYTHING, you merely - do as your told. So off we headed down the road and after awhile we realized we were going to Tennessee. We weren’t prepared for a trip from Charleston, South Carolina to Knoxville, Tennessee, we only had the clothes we were wearing and nothing else.
My father had been drinking while he was driving and each time we would gas up, he would buy more beer. On one stop he bought beer and each of us one of those little live Easter chicks.
The closer we got to Tennessee – the drunker my dad got – and the closer we got – the colder it got. We were driving up the Tennessee mountains and there was snow on the road -and the further up the mountain – there was ice on the road. We were scared to death, we literally saw down the side of the mountain as dad swerved from side to side. We were so scared that we were too afraid to even make a sound. At one point he almost drove off the side of the mountain, but he swerved and slammed against the other side instead. As my dad got out of the car to assess the damage, another car stopped and a man got out. I felt so relieved to see someone helping my dad, I was thinking we were finally safe, but dad told him everything was fine and he sent him away. As dad staggered back to our car and the man got in his car, he looked at us. You could see the pain in his face as he peered into three sets of terrified little eyes. You could tell he was so afraid for our lives that day. He felt so helpless and so angry that he sat in his car hitting the stirring wheel, afraid we would never make it to our destination.
During the rest of that trip, I just sat quietly, concentrating on my precious little baby bird. This bird was all I really had. I FINALLY had something that loved me. I was talking to God and telling him how I was going to be the kind of mother to this bird that I never had. That I was going to take care of it and love it. He was really hungry and being such a wonderful mommy, I feed him all the way to Tennessee. I was so proud of myself and I smiled, knowing that God must have been proud of me also.
SOMEHOW, – we made it to our destination that day. Dad had driven us to my step-mother’s, Glenda’s, brother’s house, but no one was there, so he decided to just drop us off . He dropped us off in the woods close to their home and headed back home to SC, without us. There we sat, in the woods, cold, hungry wondering what to do with night quickly falling, it was scary and I felt so alone and unloved. We were left all alone in the middle of the woods, no coats, no food, not anything. I started crying, not silent little cries, but sobbing cries. As I sat there sobbing and petting my bird, thinking this is the only thing that loves me, all of a sudden, his belly bursted open and all this food started rolling out. That was it- that was all I could handle. I WAS SO ANGRY AT GOD I started yelling at him. I was asking God WHY- WHY DO YOU HATE ME THIS MUCH? WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH THAT YOU GAVE ME A LIFE LIKE THIS. I TRY SO HARD TO BE SO GOOD AND I DON’T UNDERSTAND, I MAKE GOOD GRADES, I DO EVERYTHING I’M TOLD AND I NEVER TALK SO I DON’T SAY ANYTHING WRONG. I said NO CHILD DESERVES A LIFE THAT THIS, I AM JUST A LITTLE GIRL AND I JUST CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU HATE ME SOOOOO MUCH. God . . . . didn’t answer me that day.
It was getting dark and very cold so we walked back to Glenda’s brothers house and decided to break into the house where we ate and went to sleep that night. The next morning they came home to find three little kids asleep in their beds. I was so happy to see Glenda, it was almost like a fairy tale, life was miserable I went to sleep, I woke up and now I’m safe in my mommy’s arms. I loved being with Glenda. We played for awhile and life was so good.
Later that day Glenda told me dad was there to take us back home. She was crying when she told us, she didn’t want to send us back but she knew her life depended on it. When she told me dad was there to pick me up – I started screaming and crying – begging and pleading for her to let me stay – I was saying MOMMY, PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME GO, PLEASE LET ME STAY, PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME GO, I PROMISE I’LL BE REALLY GOOD,– PLEASE, OH PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME GO. PLEASE MOMMY PLEASE LET ME STAY WITH YOU, DON’T MAKE ME GO WITH HIM. They had to tear me out of her arms that day to put me back in the car with THAT MAN.
My Uncle Bobby had to drive to pick us up because my dad was too drunk to drive. We were in his station wagon and dad was in the middle seat laying down, too drunk to even sit up. Later down the mountain, he hollered, “Helen, come here, come sit with your daddy”. I did as I was told, then he reached up and put his hand up my shirt and said, “Oh hell, you don’t have anything.” Then he gruffly told me to go get in the back and he hollered for my sister Vicky. She did as she was told and as soon as he fell asleep she quickly came in the back with me. I knew what was going on, but all I could think about was how grateful I was to “not have anything”. Ironically, three weeks earlier, I was trying desperately to get a training bra because I was seriously afraid I would never have any bosoms because I hadn’t started training them yet. But now I was so thankful. All I could think was I’M SO GLAD THAT’S NOT ME. I DIDN’T FEEL SORRY FOR my sister at all, ALL I COULD ALLOW MYSELF TO THINK ABOUT WAS, I WAS SO GLAD IT WASN’T ME.
After we got back home to South Carolina. I immediately went to visit my friend next door who had cerebral palsy. I often visited with Kathy, she was my only friend, because parents don’t let their children play with kids like me. Kathy was also my safe place. When I was there, I was safe, I spent A LOT of time with Kathy. I was visiting with her and crying, I cried all that day. She tried everything to console me, but all I could do was cry. My dad came over to get me, but Ms. Logan, Kathy’s mom, said look at her Leroy, she can’t take anymore. This child can not take ANYMORE!! Let her stay here with us. Finally, he agreed, I never even looked up, I was so disgusted with him. I stayed the night with Kathy and when I went to bed, I was still crying, I couldn’t stop the tears. Kathy said, Come here Helen, come sleep with me. I went to Kathy’s bed and she held me in her arms and I finally cried myself to sleep. That was the first time I ever remembered anyone holding me like that. This wonderful, sweet crippled little girl gave me something no one else had ever given me – she loved me unconditionally. It felt so good. The next morning I woke and I was still crying. I was a 10 years old girl and I couldn’t take ANY more. I couldn’t take any more of my life and I was only 10 years old.
A little later that day there was a knock at the door. The next thing I know chaos yet again. Here I am in my safe place and the next thing you know – two hands broke through the screen door and pulled me through it. A man and my sister ran me down to a car, threw me in and took off. My Aunt Helen was driving so I knew it was safe, but of course I had no idea what was going on. They took the three of us to a youth detention center. They felt so certain that our father would kill us for telling the truth that they kept us locked up for several weeks. They locked us up to protect us from our own father. They had to lock me up, to SAVE me from the one person who was suppose to love and protect me.
And then God answered me – sent me an Angel, he sent my foster parents to keep me safe.
Only though the Grace of God, have I been able to take the HORROR of my childhood and turn it into a DREAM, A Dream for something better for today’s foster children. I want my VISION of hope and healing for these children to become a REALITY. Together, We can rekindle dreams. I know how it feels to be alone – to feel lost—to feel hopeless and to feel helpless. I also know what can make a difference in the life of a foster child.
My passion for the rights of these children has become not only my mission in life, but I truly feel it’s God’s -PURPOSE –for-my- life. I feel that every child deserves to grow up in a family to call their own. I have a family, my family – is my foster family. It was my foster father who walked my down the aisle when I got married, it was my foster mother who sat with me in the bride’s room. My husband and I, we are the proud new parents of two beautiful, sweet little boys adopted from foster care. We are proud to say, we are three generations of fostering. Now how awesome is that?
I am so proud and so completely in awe of a non-profit organization called FaithBridge Foster Care who has taken it upon themselves to FINALLY step up to the plate and do something no one has been able to do since the inception of “fostering”. They have found a way to finally bridge that gap . Just think what my life could have been, if FaithBridge were there to help facilitate my fostering experience.
FaithBridge immerses these forgotten children in as many aspects of social environments as possible to aid them in becoming all they can be. To a foster child, this is huge!! Through extracurricular activities such as karate or ballet classes, not only do children learn to believe in themselves, they learn to master socialization skills. The story I told you was a very small piece of my life. My life was like that EVERY DAY. Learning to master life skills . . . . my life was about mastering survival skills and nothing else – my life – depended on it. Most foster children have a lack of education due to their life circumstances, FaithBridge provides tutoring for these children. And the list goes on and on.
Thank you so much First Baptist Church of Woodstock and FaithBridge Foster Care for giving hope. . . .for finally giving back dreams to these loving, deserving, beautiful, amazing children.
It has taken me over 40 years to find enough self esteem and self confidence to realize my potential. I could have been so much more at such an earlier age if I had an organization like this, willing to help me reach my potential early in life. I could have loved myself much sooner. I could have realized my dreams before today if they had been a part of it. I could have had a deeper relationship with my foster parents if they had been there to help me understand why I couldn’t let anyone close to my heart. Faithbridge would have given us the tools to master life, to master love, and to master family.
Don’t let that precious little bird die in another child’s hands. They don’t deserve that. Help give them the tools . . . . to let it fly. To watch it soar to unimaginable heights. To help them realize dreams they never thought possible.
With your help . . . . . that precious little bird will- never -have -to –die- again.”
“I’ve come a long way. Helen Ramaglia”
Related Reading:
![Educational and employment outcomes of adults formerly placed in foster care: Results from the Northwest Foster Care Alumni Study [An article from: Children and Youth Services Review]](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/515HJ9FW66L._SL160_.jpg "Educational and employment outcomes of adults formerly placed in foster care: Results from the Northwest Foster Care Alumni Study [An article from: Children and Youth Services Review]")
What is it that compels us to share our stories?
November 10, 2010
Have I mentioned how much I enjoy reading the stories that get sent to me? Well, it’s true and I LOVE this part of the project above all others. I am honored when I receive an email from a former foster care child (now an adult). Some contacts are just to say; “hello, like your site” or to pass on some general information. Then there are those that are touching, heartfelt and inspiring (biographies really). These are the type of emails that often bring me to tears. The brutal honesty and vulnerability demonstrated are pretty incredible. Some of these emails come from men and woman who have never spoken of their past, not even to a spouse until now. Something on the site (this site) struck a nerve and many tell me that they felt compelled for the first time to share their story. This is when that little voice in my head tells me that maybe I am doing something right here. Of course, not all stories are published, some I keep to myself because telling one person is the first step for many and they are not ready to go on the site just yet. Some feel comfortable having me post their story without a name while others are compelled to share everything.
Something I hear often is that many feel a sudden strong emotion, finding themselves in a place where the inner voice starts to claw at them to make a difference. It is loud and pushes towards a utilization of the challenges faced. We question, we contemplate and we search for a way to give back or pay it forward and make a positive difference for another who may be struggling. This happened to me in early 2007 just before I began working on the creation of this site. I had thought about this project for many years in my head but never really put enough focus on it to get anywhere. Like many procrastinators, I was under the illusion that there would always be next year to make it happen. But as it turns out, 2007 would be the year for me to make it happen. Like being hit with the mother of all wake up calls, I was smacked in the face with the reality that having “a tomorrow” or a next year is not guaranteed. On a day that began like every other, my step father rose out of bed at 6 am to begin his morning ritual of preparing for the work day that lie ahead. His feet hit the floor, he stood up and then quickly fell to the floor. That was his last movement, his time here on earth apparently over without warning. He was 47 years old. This was my MAJOR motivating factor to finally without any more excuses move forward NOW with implementing this site, my way of using my challenging past to make a difference and pay it forward. Thanks to all of you who have shared your amazing journey with me, I remain grateful for your honesty and trust.
Now I cannot end without sharing another awesome email I received…….
“I was in I can’t even remember how many foster homes (getting a copy of my records) due to my bio mom being a drug addict and drunk. I was bounced around and I didn’t even know what a “normal ” family was so the fact that 23 years later, after I have aged out it is amazing that I have a normal life and am a functioning member of our society. I have never been in trouble with the law, I have never been homeless, I have been able to have my own successful business and I have children that have never been in the system (my oldest is even in college to become a DR). Not typical for a child who was “unwanted” In fact I go around and encourage kids that they too can beat the odds of the system. That old saying to the world you may just be one person but to one person you just may be the world is so true! If I can give HOPE to at least one person I want to continue to do that ! I have enjoyed going around speaking and encouraging people that if they Choose the right choices and decisions that they can beat those odds! I am a very proud Mom to 8 children and a military spouse. I am working to network with others, to try to get mentors, (those that made it through the system) and give hope to others in the system that are ready to age out of the system. Kinda like Big Brother , Big Sisters. Thanks for listening”
Donna Maddox
Related Reading:
Forever Family
November 9, 2010
Another favorite video about foster care. This one is about an amazing organization called Forever Family. Check out the website: www.foreverfamily.net
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Founder of Positive Resistance – Keariene Muizz
November 5, 2010
This is an amazing woman and she truly deserves her work to have a video’s spotlight.
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Video – LCFS – In 1873 it Began with 6 Children in Need……..
November 3, 2010
I am moved by the work of the Lutheran Child and Family Services of Illinois. It is clear from this video that the staff are motivated by a sense of hope.
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