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I was only a teenager when I awoke in a stranger’s house afraid, alone and in shock several questions circulated through my mind: what had happened? How did I end up here? Would I ever leave here? Is my family alright? Would I ever see them again?

The strangers turned out to be a foster family whom had taken my two younger brothers and I in. In the initial moments you feel as if life has just ended, your entire world stopped. You feel rage, sadness, fear and confusion. Well-meaning people do a horrible job of trying to comfort you by repeating the same old phrases: “It will be okay; don’t worry.” I understand these are just things we say to each other when tragedy strikes, but to the person who is experiencing the tragedy, they are an absolute waste of words. Think about it; do you really think the family who just found out that their husband/father was killed while at war needs to hear, “It will be okay?” I doubt it. You hear the words and know deep down that this moment will pass, but okay is a relative concept.

What did they mean by, “It would be okay?” Did that mean thoughts of abuse would go away? Or did it mean that they would happen less? Did it mean that one day I would be “okay” with not having a family? Would I, one day, be “okay” with feeling abandoned and unloved? Maybe it meant that I’ll be “okay” with the fact that I may appear a certain way on the outside, I still have a hole in my heart big enough to fit Texas Stadium.

At the time, I just wanted to run. I wanted to get as far away from the pity and evaluations of therapists, psychiatrists, and foster parents. Nothing seemed to matter anymore: not whether I lived or died, succeeded or failed. Just as I was ready to give up, the last words my father spoke to me from his death bead were being repeated over and over in my head, “Take care of your brothers and don’t end up like me.” After the tenth time I heard his voice, I looked up and saw the faces of my two younger brothers, and every thought of running or giving up had vanished. Day after day I began to cry out for guidance, direction or some wisdom on how to maneuver through all the uncertainty and frustration I was experiencing. After days of praying and not feeling any better I began to grow angry with God. After all, how could He have abandoned me? Why would He have left me?

I stood in the middle of the 15-acre compound we were staying at, sweaty, dirty, and pissed at God. Unable to bear the heat, I went inside the room to where my brothers and I were staying, only to be summoned to the front room moments later. I had a visitor. From the shadow on the opposite side of the screen door, I could tell the person was male but I couldn’t make out a face, or any other feature for that matter.  As the man walked in the house, the only thing I noticed was the huge ear-to-ear smile of a well-dressed, gray haired black man. His name was Mr. Leslie Foster, my CASA volunteer.

CASA, stands for Court Appointed Special Advocates. CASA volunteers are appointed by judges to watch over and advocate for abused and neglected children, in order to make sure they don’t get lost in the overburdened legal and social service system, or languish in inappropriate groups or foster homes. For my brothers and I CASA was a calming and consistent presence in the midst of turmoil and ambiguity.

I had met Mr. Foster several times and knew him to be a nice man who spoke a lot, but what I would soon come to realize is that God sent him to answer my prayers. Mr. Foster and I sat outside and began to talk, and talk, and talk. We talked for what seemed like forever. I can’t remember anything that he said except for one comment, “Don’t let this situation define you. You know, Chad, if you put God first and are willing to work hard, you can do anything.” As if God himself was speaking those words, they stuck with me. I can do anything. This was the first time I had ever heard that, and the timing couldn’t have been better. From that day forward I truly believe that if I put God first, don’t allow my situation to define me, and am willing to work hard I can do anything.

Luckily for me, I had Mr. Foster speak positive words when I was in turmoil, but there are hundreds of thousands of children in the foster care system right now who need someone to do the same for them. Maybe you feel that becoming a CASA volunteer isn’t for you, but it could be. I encourage everyone reading this to at least visit: www.casaforchildren.org and find out how you can help in your area.

I have no idea how many other children Mr. Foster represented, but I know having him in my life made all the difference during one of the scariest moments in my life. It is my hope that more children can be as fortunate as I was, but in order for that to happen, we need more people with loving hearts and a desire to make a difference, to step up. So, come on. What are you waiting for?