Today Christmas is less than two weeks away. By now most of us have put up our trees and decorated until they glisten, bought, wrapped and placed under the tree gifts to our family & friends, prepared our Christmas Eve/Day menus.

We are ready to welcome family & friends into our homes to share in the spirit and warmth of the Christmas season.

This is all fine and expected during the holidays.

I do hope each of us will take time to remember the real reason for Christmas. It is to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ.

As you gather with family & friends I pray that you will not only remember the reason for Christmas but will also remember those families that will have an empty chair at their Christmas table. Remember those families with servicemen and servicewomen who are in harms way to protect us. Most importantly remember those family who will have that empty chair each and every year due to the over 5,500 who have paid the ultimate price for our freedoms in Iraq & Afghan conflicts…whether we agree with the conflicts or not.

Take time to remember those Christmas’s past, cherish the memories as we never know whom we may not have with us as we gather next year.

I know I remember my years at Boys Town and how special they made Christmas for those of us who did not have a family or home to call our own. I remember and cherish memories of the 1st Christmas I was able to enjoy with family I found at 52 years of age with my cousin Carol and her family and the year that followed when I met all my family of the Borysiak side of the family. These are memories I will cherish for a lifetime.

Yes, Christmas time is a time for memories, love, spirit, warmth and joy!

My wish and prayer for each of you who read this is a very Merry, Blessed and Joyful Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Below is a link to a small Christmas present for each of you:

A Christmas Gift to my Family & Friends:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJk8jvQpXN0

This is a walk through what is now totally Father Flanagan’s home at Boys Town…back in his day it was not only his home but a dorm for the boys, classrooms & chapel.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWhBhBcvkaI&feature=related

Peace, Larry~

Because AFCARS data are being continuously updated and cleaned, the numbers reported here may differ from data reported elsewhere in report breakdown. These data reflect all AFCARS submissions by states received by June of 2011.

NOTE: Children 16 years old and older whose parents’ parental  rights have been terminated and who have a goal of emancipation (aging out) have been  excluded from the report.

Data for FY 2011 will not be available until June 2012.

AFCARS data, U.S. Children’s Bureau, Administration for Children, Youth and Families

(Based on data submitted by states as of June, 2011)

Children in foster care on September 30, 2010? 408,425

Children exiting foster care during FY 2010? 254,114 via:

Reunification with Parent(s) or Primary Caretaker(s)  51%  128,913

Living with Other Relative(s)  8%  20,423

Adoption  21%  52,340 ( roughly 2,500 fewer than in FY 2009)

Emancipation (Aged Out)  11%  27,854

Transfer to Another Agency  2%  5,114

Runaway (Lost track)  1%  1,504

Death of Child  0%  338

NOTE: Deaths are attributable to a variety of causes, including medical conditions, accidents, and homicide.

Children waiting to be adopted on September 30, 2010? 107,011

NOTES: Waiting children are identified as children who have a goal of adoption and/or whose parental rights have been terminated. Children 16 years old and older whose parents’ parental rights have been terminated and who have a goal of emancipation have been excluded from the estimate.

Fewer youth have been entering foster care the past few years. Youth aging out of care has been increasing. Adoptions have been fluctuating between 50,000-55,000 the past 5 years.

Data for FY 2011 will not be available until June 2012.

My 1st book, “Lost Son” is my personal memior of years in foster care, search & discovery of my birth family, hope & healing.

This 2nd book, “Give Voice to the Voiceless & Forgotten is poetry, articles, stories & possible solutions to reforming CPS,foster care & adoption.

See why I am so passionate about foster care & adoption reform.

Adults, no matter the position they hold in society, are to protect our children. Despite what the Pennsylvania “mandate reporting law” states; the adults involved in this story did not do that. They, in a few situations, may have met the letter of the law but they failed in meeting their moral obligations.

I can speak on this subject matter due to my own personal experiences when I was a youth.

I was raped as a youth and had another sexual abuse situation attempted on me. I for years blamed myself for this. It took me over forty years to even share these experiences with anyone because I was ashamed.

When I wrote my first book about my experiences in foster care I didn’t want to share these experiences but knowing I wanted to be as truthful as possible in my writing they had to be shared, though not in graphic detail.

In my book “Lost Son” I shared the following two instances:

One

“The stability of four years came to sudden end in May, 1960, when I was abruptly removed from the Monshor’s home. I was placed in the Wayne County, Michigan Youth Detention Center. My crime: at age ten I was guilty of not having a family to claim me as their son nor a place to call home.

The Detention Center was to be my home until a new foster home was found. Here I was placed amongst youth offenders who were charged with a wide assortment of crimes. My bed, to start due to overcrowding, would be a thin mattress in the open area of the block.

I am the youngest boy on the block, as well as the smallest. Though I attempted to fight as best I could I was unable to overcome the attacks of older boys. I was repeatedly sexually assaulted.

One day after being assaulted and left naked in a cell, I felt my life was no longer worth living and attempted to hang myself with a belt. I was discovered before the act could be completed and placed in an isolation cell, where I would remain for two months.

Those responsible for the repeated rapes are never charged or held accountable in any manner.”

Two

“On the night of April 15, 1961, I was told to pack my paper bag, and that I would be leaving in the morning. All I could think of was, “Here we go again.”

The final insult of this foster home came on my final night there. Their son, seventeen at the time, came back on the porch late during the night. He nudged me roughly. When I opened my eyes, light was coming through the porch windows so I could see him. He was standing over me, exposing himself, close to my mouth saying, “Take care of this for me.” I remember kicking out at him and then wailing away at him. I hit him everywhere I possibly could creating noises as he crashed into things. All the time I was yelling to arouse the rest of the house.

Finally his Mother came out to see what was going on. I yelled out, with tears rolling down my face, “He tried to force himself on me sexually.” He called me a liar and said he was just checking on me.

His Mother believed him and not me. She said, “You are a rotten no good for nothing boy, a dirty little boy, a liar. No wonder no one wanted me as I wasn’t fit to have anyone to want me. Good thing you will soon be out of our house, you ungrateful little bastard.” At least she got the bastard part correct.

I sat there in stunned silence with what I heard, while crying now uncontrollably. Then I had my chance. I stood up and decked her son. I got a good hit in as I knocked out one of his front teeth…not bad for a scrawny eleven year old.

I was so ashamed of what had happened that  night that I did not share it with the social worker. I have not shared it with anyone as I have remained ashamed until now…forty plus years later.

I always felt I needed to keep it as my dark, dirty secret. As I thought of writing this chapter, I finally came to realize I was not the guilty party that night, I was the victim and thus could now forgive myself and let it go. I still obviously remember that woman’s final words to me. I still shudder when I think of this foster home.”

I share these situations to help you realize how a victim of sexual abuse may respond or not respond to it. The depth of the negative feelings one goes through as well as it may take years before they are able to share it with anyone.

I am sure victims of the Penn State situation could very much identify with what I felt when this happened to me.

In the case of the very graphic incident of 2002 in the football locker room showers it was not abuse that occurred…it was rape it was a felony crime! It was witnessed and yet the police were not called.

The Pennsylvania law does not mandate the average citizen report the above described case to be reported to authorities but rather it be reported up their immediate chain of command on the job. Only seventeen of the fifty states makes it a crime to not report abuse of a child to the authorities. This has to change!

Various officials at Penn Stated failed the youth that were sexually abused. In a few of the cases that have been detailed there were actual witnesses yet they failed to even attempt to stop the abuse they witnessed but only told their immediate superiors of the events.

How the victims must have felt knowing someone could have rescued them but did not!

I feel nothing but contempt for those witnesses who failed these youth!

Though the officials at Penn State are not required under their current laws to notify authorities when they were informed how could they not feel their moral obligation. How could they basically wipe their hands of the matter after they were informed feeling they had met the letter of the law and that was the end of it.

Abuse of a child is despicable! For one to not act to protect a child when they see abuse happening to a child is despicable! For those who are informed that child abuse has happened to not report it to proper authorities is despicable!

I can only hope and pray that those who were abused have or will soon find a way to heal, to realize it was not their fault but rather the fault of the one who abused them. It is my hope that their lives have not already been completely destroyed.

It is time that ALL fifty states pass a law to make it mandatory that whoever witnesses or has reasonable suspicion abuse is happening to a child MUST report it to law officials.  If the states will not do this then the federal government must. This law must be the same in all fifty states. We must protect our youth!!

We can never allow a situation such as Penn State, the Catholic Church (I am Catholic), to ever happen again!

By ALLEN G. BREED – AP National Writer | AP – Sat, Sep 24, 2011

SHARON, S.C. (AP) — With everything she had to do that morning, Marshall McClain could not believe his wife was wasting time making the bed.

“What are you doing?” he gasped from the brown recliner where he spent his nights.

Tracey McClain was killing time, waiting for the lawyer’s call, waiting to hear whether the adoption was a go and 11-month-old Alyssa would finally be theirs.

Alyssa’s mother had long since given her consent, but attorney Dale Dove hadn’t been in a particular hurry to locate the biological father. In the case of absentee fathers, he told the McClains, the longer the child can bond with the prospective parents before an adoption notice is filed, the better.

“Time is your friend,” Dove had said.

But time had suddenly become the enemy.

An infection raged through the 61-year-old Army veteran’s withered, 115-pound frame, and the intravenous antibiotics couldn’t keep up. Doctors said he had just a couple of days.

But the man who’d survived 60 combat missions in Vietnam had one more task to complete. He wanted to give his name to the little girl who’d been the light of his life these past six months. More importantly, he wanted Alyssa to have the right to collect his benefits after he died.

During the past few days, Dove and others moved heaven and earth to make the adoption happen. An opening had suddenly occurred in the judge’s docket, and Tracey was scrambling to get herself and Alyssa ready and over to Rock Hill, about 40 minutes away.

By the time Tracey returned to the bedroom to say goodbye, the hospice nurse had arrived.

Even with the oxygen tube at his nose, Marshall’s breathing was labored. He was unable to speak, but his eyes were open, and Tracey knew he could understand her as she leaned down to kiss him.

“I love you,” she said. “I’ll be back.”

___

Tracey and Marshall McClain’s life wasn’t perfect — but it was pretty darned close.

They’d met on the job. He was a long-haul truck driver, and she — 17 years his junior — was his dispatcher.

Married on New Year’s Day 1994, they started their own trucking company a year later. Over the next 16 years, they’d built their Charlotte, N.C., business from five tractor-trailers to a fleet of 32 owner-operators.

The couple constructed a spacious three-story house on 33 wooded, northwest South Carolina acres that they shared with three racking horses — Rudy, Hunter and Little Girl — and a pair of goats named Thelma and Louise.

Each had a grown child from a previous marriage. Marshall’s daughter, Amy Lane, lived about three hours away in Summerton; Danielle, Tracey’s girl, lived with them. If there was any diaper changing in their future, they figured it would be for their first grandchild, who was on the way.

But all that changed one Sunday morning last fall, when an 18-year-old stranger walked through the doors at Sanctuary Hills Church of God of Prophecy.

The 2-month-old girl in her arms was pale and spitting up. The young mother appeared distraught.

“I’m not sleeping,” she said. “She’s not sleeping.”

One of the women in the nursery offered to take the baby home for a while. The mother agreed without hesitation.

The McClains added mother and baby to their prayer list, but that was the extent of their involvement — until early January.

The church friend told Tracey that Alyssa had been hospitalized for breathing trouble and dehydration. When Alyssa was ready to be released, the friend asked if the McClains could keep her for the night.

After they got her home, a winter storm hit. By the time the snow had melted off, the McClains were in love.

The mother already had a 3-year-old son. She wasn’t ready to be a mother of two.

“Alyssa … has been passed around to several families that mom did not know much about,” a social worker wrote. The mother “has not bonded with Alyssa.”

On Jan. 28, social services granted the McClains temporary custody. Less than a week later, the mother signed away her parental rights.

___

About two years ago, during a family vacation, Marshall became violently ill. His skin turned a sickly yellow, and the already painfully lean trucker began dropping weight.

Over time, Marshall underwent numerous surgeries to clear blockages or take biopsies. He would bounce back after each operation, only to relapse later.

The business was doing well enough that Marshall decided to retire. When Alyssa came along, he was able to devote full time to raising her.

He was the one who, when she awoke crying, declared that she’d just have to cry herself back to sleep. Five minutes later, he was up to comfort her.

He would sit in his recliner and bounce Alli on his leg, singing “Ride the Horsey” or “Jesus Loves Me.” He worked hard to make sure her first word was “Daddy” — and it was.

When Marshall first became ill, doctors feared it was pancreatic cancer, but tests came back negative. In late March, that initial suspicion was confirmed.

He had just started radiation and chemotherapy when physicians discovered abscesses in his liver. They ordered intravenous antibiotics.

Danielle and her fiance, Kevin Susigan, moved their wedding up a year to May 14 so Marshall could walk her down the aisle.

The first week in July, Marshall went to Carolinas Medical Center near Charlotte for some tests to see how the abscesses were responding to the treatment. While he was there, one of them ruptured.

When doctors said there was nothing they could do to halt the spreading infection, Marshall decided to spend his last few days at home, with family. Tracey asked him if he was frightened.

“The only thing I’m scared of is leaving you here with all this responsibility,” he told her. “But, other than that, I’m ready.”

___

Dove, the lawyer, was on vacation at the beach with his wife. They weren’t scheduled to come home for several days, but something told them to cut their trip short.

He was in his office Friday, July 8, when Tracey called with the news about Marshall.

“Holy cow,” he said. “We need to get this thing DONE.”

Dove’s staff had located Alyssa’s biological father just days earlier. He was at the Moss Justice Center in York, awaiting transfer to prison to begin serving a five-year sentence for drug distribution.

The lawyer had two options.

He could file a notice of adoption proceeding, which would give the father 30 days to respond — days he knew Marshall McClain did not have. Or he could go to the jail and get the man’s consent.

At 8 a.m. the next day, Dove was ushered into a closet-like room with a thick glass partition and a telephone receiver on the wall. On the other side sat a slight young man in an orange jumpsuit.

Dove explained how the McClains had been taking care of Alyssa. He told him of adopting his own daughter 26 years earlier, and what a blessing it had been. Finally, he explained the situation with Marshall McClain, and the need for urgency.

The father — a baby-faced 19-year-old with blond hair like Alyssa’s — was visibly moved. He was leaning toward signing the consent, but demurred: “I don’t know these people.”

“Well,” Dove said. “I can help with that.”

Dove stepped outside and called Tracey McClain. He told her to write a letter introducing herself and Marshall to Alyssa’s father, and to get it there as quickly as possible.

By 1 p.m., Dove was slipping the hastily typed page through the slot at the bottom of the window.

Tracey told the man about Marshall’s service in Vietnam, and about the successful trucking business they had built together. She wrote of their supportive church family, and of the older sisters and cousins who would love and help care for Alyssa.

Tracey promised to send him reports on his daughter’s progress, and to “uphold you in a positive way” to her.

“You would be giving us the greatest gift by allowing us to make Alyssa part of our family,” she wrote.

Tracey had also sent several photos.

“They look like good people,” the young man behind the glass said.

He told Dove he wanted the weekend to think it over. But he didn’t need to wait that long.

Later that day, he sat down with a pen and a piece of yellow legal paper.

He said that he had never known his own father, and was grateful for the McClains’ offer to let him be part of Alyssa’s life. He wanted her — and them — to know that, “Just because I’m locked up doesn’t make me a bad person.”

“The last thing I ever wanted to do was give my daughter away … ,” he wrote. “But you are the parents now and truely have been since the beginning and I have faith in God whatever decisions you make for her will be the best ones.”

___

Dove was gassing up his truck around 9:30 a.m. Monday, July 11, when his assistant called from the jail with news that the father had signed. He immediately called Family Court Judge David Guyton’s office and explained Marshall’s condition to the judge’s assistant, Sandy Neely.

“Is there ANY possibility for the judge to hear the case?” he pleaded.

She put him on hold. After a short time, she came back and asked if they could be there by 1:45.

“Sure,” he replied.

He immediately called Tracey McClain. He was still on the phone with her when he got a beep.

It was Guyton’s office.

“We JUST had a cancellation,” Neely said. “Can you be here by 11?”

Dove looked at his watch. It was nearing 10, and he was still in his jeans. He would have to get home and change into his suit while his staff drafted the paperwork.

“I’ll probably be a few minutes late,” he warned Neely.

As Dove raced home, it dawned on him that he’d have to make sure Alyssa’s court-appointed guardian would be there. And since Marshall would be unable to attend, he wanted the woman who’d done the home study present to attest to the loving atmosphere in the McClain household.

Miraculously, both were available.

Back in Sharon, Tracey McClain hastily pulled on some slacks and a dress shirt. When Danielle came downstairs with Alli still in her pajamas, she told her to go back and change her into a dress.

Dove reached the court building at 11:09. The hearing did not get under way until 11:31.

___

With his close-cropped flattop haircut, chiseled features and ramrod straight posture, Guyton looks every inch the Marine captain he once was — and Army National Guard lieutenant colonel he still is. But he has a special place in his heart for adoptions.

Taped to the inside rim of his bench is a photo of his 7-year-old daughter, Hannah Grace. Dove represented the Guytons in the adoption.

For the record, Dove noted that Marshall McClain was not present in the courtroom.

“This adoption, though, is something that he wanted,” he said. “Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Tracey replied as Alyssa let out a yelp. “I believe that’s what he’s holding on for.”

The guardian and other witnesses were quickly called, heard and dismissed. Squirming in a cousin’s lap, Alyssa cooed as the small pendulum clock over the judge’s left shoulder ticked away the minutes.

Toward the end of the hearing, Dove noticed a serious error in the adoption decree. The couple’s name was misspelled “McCalin” throughout.

Breaking with protocol, Guyton allowed Dove to make the corrections by hand.

The hearing ended at 12:05 p.m. Dove wanted to snap a photo of judge and family, but Tracey said she couldn’t wait, and hurried to her car.

A couple of miles out of town, she dialed home. Danielle answered.

“Tell your dad we’ve got her,” the mother said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Danielle repeated the news to the room. Her sister Amy leaned close to her father’s ear and whispered, “She’s ours.”

McClain’s breathing eased. The muscles in his face relaxed.

The clerk’s stamp on the final decree reads 12:09 p.m. Marshall McClain’s official time of death was 12:17.

This past weekend (July 29-31, 2011) Boys Town Alumni returned to the place they call home for a reunion. It was a time of sharing memories of days gone by, renewing friendships with brothers/sisters (Boys Town began accepting girls in 1976). It is a time many of us look to every two years.

This reunion, though many events were memorable, had one event that stood above them all. Saturday (July 29) was dedication to the restored and updated Veterans Memorial honoring fallen brothers in service to their country.

Boys Town dedicated the original memorial at a reunion in 1991. It was simple but definitley left one who visited know that the young man who answered the call of their country and fell would not be fogotten as time went on. However unless one personally knew one of the fallen most alumni did not how many or who had fallen.

Each reunion a ceremony is held at the memorial to remember as a whole those who died. It usually gathered a not so large crowd of attendees as few could relate on a personal level to anyone.

George Buckler ’64  at a recent reunion had an idea to refurbished the memorial and to include marble slates on which bronze plaques would be placed inscribed with the name of the fallen. The idea was quickly adopted by the Alumni Association Board and the project was underway in November 2010. Funds were raised (over$20,000 was need and this goal has not been completely met as yet), planning, designing, etc.

On Friday I however made a visit to the site alone. I wanted a private time to reflect and shed a tear for one young man whose name is now on the wall. James Acklin was one of my best friends during years at Boys Town. He was also my debate partner in our senior year. I remember the grief when hearing of Jim’s death. Of course the greif was far, far greater for the young wife & two sons left behind (Rose, Jamie & Joey).

Saturday brought the fruition of all the efforts that had been made. The dedication was simple but memorable. This year hundreds made sure they were in place for the ceremony. It began with Posting of the Colors by the Boys Town Junior ROTC Color Guard, National Athem, Pledge of Allegiance & Prayer.

The guest speaker was John E. Hamilton, Junior Vice Commander VFW.

Flags that were flown in Afghanistan were given to the BT ROTC and Alumni Association by SSgt Mary, Baille USAF, herself a Boys Town alumn and recently returned from Afghanistan;

It concluded with a Prayer, Taps & Retiring of the Colors.

I know a few tears, mine & others, were shed during the ceremony. I concluded being there by slowly going to the wall and gently touching Jimmy’s name.

Now alumni and current residents of Boys Town will know by name those who answered the call of their country  and gave their all by name.

Seventy-one ( confirmed deaths )young men’s names are now on the memorial: forty-four from WWII, four from from Korea, seventeen from Viet Nam, one from Iraq/Afghanistan and six while still in uniform. Some new ones may be addeed in time when confirmation of their deaths are received or future conflicts.

Father Flanagan taught, his sucessors continued to teach, that one must honor their faith, family and country. These men learned that lesson as well as many others who have served and were able to return home. Over 800 alumni served in WWII. Over 2,000 aluni have served whether during war time or at peace.

After December 7, 1941, the 22 member class of 1942 wanted to immediately enlist. Fr. Flanagan convinced them to await their graduation. On the afternoon of their graduation they marched to the recruitment office..all 22!

Most of these young men were never able to fulfil the dreams they dreamt while at Boys Town. Most were never to marry and watch their chldren grow up. They heard the call of their country and they answered.

In the future I am sure a young woman’s name will be added to the wall as girls are not only now a part of the alumni of Boys Town but also are serving our country.

There are cities in this country that have memorials which may remember 71 young men/women who have fallen. I am sure however there is no high school in the country as Boys Town who have had so many serve as well as so many fall in that service. Service to country and others is a trademark of Boys Town.

Boys Town and its alumni are proud to call them brothers of the family of Boys Town. It is hoped for generations yet to come that they will be remembered. This newly refurbished memorial should help to accomplish this mission. It is hoped by me and some others that soon the Alumni Board will approve a move to make any alumni who has fallen in service to their country will be made Lifetime Members of the BTNAA. The majority of alumni who have fallen fell before there was the BTNAA and others fell too early to have had the chance to possibly even join the association yet alone become Lifetime members. This and the memorial is the least we can do in remembrance of the sacrifice they have made in our behalf.

When someone asks me about heroes…I will point them to this memorial of 71 heroes! Rest in Peace my fellow Boys Town brothers!

I have managed to, in my life, have the best and worst moms in the world.

My birth mom was insane and hurt me in ways i’ll likely never fully overcome.
My foster mom saved my life.

My birth mom called me her mistake.
My foster mom believed in me when no one else would.

My birth mom did drugs and “forgot” to feed me.
My foster mom waited patiently when I was too terrified to eat at her house. She even “snuck” me snacks later to make sure I didn’t go hungry.

My birth mom told my school that she wasn’t surprised that I was failing.
My foster mom fought with the school so that they would give me tutors and work with me.

My birth mom told me I was stupid.
My foster mom showed me I was smart.

My birth mom spent hours plotting ways to hurt me.
My foster mom spent hours finding ways to save me.

My birth mom yelled at me and beat me for the smallest of things.
My foster mom was quiet while I yelled and screamed. She knew I needed to get it out.

My birth mom laughed in my face when I was being hurt.
My foster mom helped me rediscover my own laugh.

My birth mom gave me nightmares.
My foster mom helped me to dream.

My birth mom built a life of fear.
My foster mom introduced me to love.

My birth mom kept me from having friends.
My foster mom is the “mom” that my friends get to meet.

My birth mom started my life.
My foster mom will be there for life.

My birth mom has left me with a mothers day of terrifying memories, pain, and unbelievable sadness.
My foster mom has given me a reason to smile and be proud on Mothers Day.

My birth mom may have stolen my past,
But my foster mom gave me a future.

Thank you, Mama D, for bringing me out of the darkness.
_________________

by: Riverbird

by: Sunday Koffron

Bad stuff happens to good people, it is not fair but it is true. You deserved better than you got. From your original parents, from your workers and from the system, they let you down. That is not your fault. You did not make this mess you are currently sitting in, nope you didn’t. Where you are at is not the wrong place. It is exactly where they dropped you off and left you to your own devices. I would say you are exactly where you would be expected to be. But the truth is if you are not currently incarcerated, homeless, and pregnant by 20, or have lost custody of your own kids, you have already beaten the statistics. Got a job? You are a raging frigging success! I commend you, that is no small feat for folks like us.

Some of us have had it worse than others. Some of us go on to be academically successful; some have great success in their careers. Some of us beat all reasonable expectations by still being alive at 25. What I am saying baby, is that you are ok. I know you don’t believe me now but it is true.

Growing up I was lucky that I had staff and social workers who had come through the system, and they would tell me that I had the power over my own life, that things would get better and that I could do anything I put my mind to. *cough* *choke* *gag* oh yeah, *eye roll* they just didn’t understand what it was like to live in my head. They must not have been as damaged as I was in the first place. They must not have lost as much as I lost. They must not have had to resort to the kind of stuff I did to survive. They just didn’t get what it was like to be me. I just knew they were all wrong about me. I was not like them.

I cut, I drank (I blacked out), I fought, I slept around, I couch surfed for years and I did a lot of really stupid things. I hitch-hiked a crossed this country several time trying to find someplace – any place I belonged. I loved people, hurt people and I made many mistakes. It wasn’t pretty for a while, but I survived, I thrived. …And so will you my sweet, sensitive, wounded little sister (or brother). I can see those eyes rolling now. I know you think I am wrong. I don’t know what it was like to live in your head. I don’t know what it was like to live your life or feel your pain. And I don’t know exactly. But what I do know is that our lives, our pasts, and the amount of pain we have been able to withstand have left us uniquely qualified for survival. You won’t catch me shedding a single tear because the garage door open broke.

There is a lot left here for you to do. You are the voice for our younger foster kin, our little brothers and sisters who are stuck in a broken system, most of whom will find themselves out in the cold and on their own the day they turn 18, just like you and just like me. Your voice can help advocate for them. Your voice can help change that. You have a book to write, a song to sing, a meal to serve, a hand to hold or a billboard to paint. You are crazy strong and foster care gave you a crazy powerful will.

No, you didn’t make that mess, it’s not fair but I know you are capable of cleaning it up. I know you are fully capable of doing anything that you put your mind to. And I know that you have a lot of good left to do in this life. Keep on keeping on, I have high expectations for you.

In a statement, Kerry said preparing for and planning responses to youth homelessness is vital, especially when considering the amount of children that face this challenge.

“As a father, it’s a punch in the gut to imagine children living on the streets, but this year alone, one in fifty American kids will be homeless,” he said. “There are common sense reforms we can implement to help make things better.”

NPR reports that an astounding 40 percent of kids who age out of foster care will become homeless. And according to the National Alliance to End Homelessness, out of the 2 million youths who experience homelessness each year, 1 in 5 identify as LGBT.

Because many LGBT youths find themselves homeless because of familial rejection, the bill would direct the Department of Health and Human Services to create programs that are centered on “reducing dejecting behaviors and increasing supporting behaviors and understanding among families to improve the chances of LGBT youth remaining at home.”

The bill would also make sweeping changes throughout foster care programs, such as keeping kids in the system until they reach 21 years old and creating easier accessibility to funding and education resources.