Posted on 11/24/2020 11:20:19 AM PST by Diana in Wisconsin
My brother and I were both placed into foster homes at a young age. He was lucky—he went to a family called the Ripleys. I went through four different homes in three years, and each one was worse than the next. I’d get to see my brother every few months.
Ms. Ripley would take us for lunch at McDonalds, and that’s when she first noticed the scars all over my body. She immediately made arrangements for me to join their family. Back then the word ‘family’ didn’t mean much to me.
But the Ripleys made me feel welcome in their home. Whenever I did something wrong, Ms. Ripley would sit me down and explain why it wasn’t OK. But then she’d say: ‘You’re not going anywhere. Because you belong to us now.’
Shortly after I joined the family, Mr. Ripley was diagnosed with cancer. And later that year he passed away. Ms. Ripley’s entire world fell apart. They’d been high school sweethearts. And now she was alone with two foster kids.
Nobody would have blamed her for taking us back. But instead she took us to court and made it permanent. The three of us moved into a single wide trailer in Mississippi, and that’s where she raised us.
She worked whatever odd jobs she could find. We never had much, but we went to movies. We had family game nights. She kept us busy with little league and Boy Scouts. She must have been super stressed, but that’s not at all what I remember.
I just remember the affirmation that she gave me. It was always: ‘You’re smart.’ And ‘You’re handsome.’ And ‘You survived all that stuff because you’re strong.’ She cried when I joined the Marines, but she knew it was my best chance for a college education.
And eventually I graduated from law school. Last year I had a daughter of my own. And that really put me into an emotional tailspin. Because I realized how every little choice I make is going to affect her future.
And then I started thinking about how different my life could have been. Because my early development had been the opposite of what a child’s should be. I should be broken, but I’m not.
Because thirty years ago my Mom decided to keep me. And somehow, despite all her sadness and heartbreak, she poured enough love into me so that I could heal.
Just a reminder that there ARE countless Good People in this world! :)
Beautiful story, God bless!
This story brings a tear to my eye. I grew up poor but never hungry. Great parents can do that.
Damn…I read that, now I have something in my eyes causing the screen to get blurry…..
What a beautiful story and a wonderful family. God bless them all
Now, that is a wonderful story.
Thanks so much for posting this.
Just as in that song, oftentimes
“All you need is love” and a sense of duty to create a strong basis, set you up for whatever life throws at you.
I concur with your sentiments.
Oh my, that one got to me.
Both of my parents grew up poor and did better than OK. I keep a picture of my Momma, a very skinny little girl in a crisp white dress with a ribbon in her hair and a big smile, on the front porch of what would be as shack of a house today. She is standing there with her Momma, Poppa and 11 siblings. They all made good and they all had lots of love and guidance.
For all of her 92 years she showed me what determination and dignity are and that they don’t know status.
“Damn…I read that, now I have something in my eyes causing the screen to get blurry…..”
What a coincidence. Me too.
Man, someone must be cutting onions nearby. I need a box of tissues.
That qualifies for Norman Vincent Peale type accolades. What a perfect Thanksgivingn story.
What an inspirational story...thanks for posting!
Something for us all to be thankful for, that this family and you are filled with the grace of God, which is love.
Fostering is hard, but it is worth it. We love fostering and we love when they become ours. Nice article!!
awesome story...thank you so much for sharing it!
Posting through tears. Thanks for sharing.
That was a nice read. Thanks for posting it.
Forget athletes, politicians and actors.... This mother is an American Hero. How I wish the whole country was made of people like this.
God bless America and may we as a nation repent and turn to people of justice, mercy and walk with Him!
Beau and his late wife fostered 14 kids through their home. He’s still in touch with two of them. The boy (now a man) still has physical and mental issues, but he’s come a long, long way from the cr@ppy hand life dealt him to begin with.
He adores Beau and calls him ‘Dad,’ which is pretty special. :)
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