In June 2016, Randy Lowe and Joshua Melendez faced an unimaginable loss: their close friends were among 49 killed in the Pulse shooting that happened right here in Orlando. That Father’s Day, instead of grilling in the backyard with their two little boys, they were making wreaths for funerals. Somewhere in that week of grief sat their adoption hearing that was set for August, the one that would make 6-year-old Robert and 3-year-old Jacob officially theirs.
Read more Best deep freezer
Unexpectedly, a judge found an opening that would push the court date to the next morning, almost two months earlier. Clinging to a hope they hadn’t felt in weeks, they accepted the date before their attorney could even finish speaking. That Wednesday the four of them put on their Sunday best, a judge signed the papers, and they celebrated at Chuck E. Cheese.
The speed at the end is the part most people remember. But that shouldn’t be. Lowe and Melendez had been fostering Robert and Jacob since October 2012. Almost four years of nurturing them as their own. Robert was about 2 when he came to them and 6 when the adoption closed. One good morning overshadowed the years of showing up when it mattered.
That’s what adopting through foster care usually looks like even though most of us never truly experience it. It means a long stretch of ordinary days until that final courtroom date.
As many as 2,700 children are in foster care across Orange, Osceola and Seminole counties, the caseload Family Partnerships of Central Florida now oversees. Some will go home to their birth families, and that’s the goal whenever it’s safe. However, hundreds won’t.
We think adoption means an infant, or $40,000, or a flight to another country. But adopting a child from Florida’s foster system costs close to nothing. These kids are already here. They fill Central Florida classrooms, ride the same buses, and pass you in the Publix aisle. They come in sibling groups no one wants to split.
But make no mistake. This process isn’t designed to be quick. Becoming an adoptive parent through foster care here means training classes and a home study that can run eight to 10 months. Often, this process seems frustrating and stagnated.
Read more Ease aches with the best microwavable heating pad
Lowe recognized something many of us overlook. “I have seen light come out of the darkness,” he told people that summer. The light, he said, was the community, people showing up for one another. An attorney who moved fast. A judge who gave up part of her morning. Neighbors who carried two grieving men long enough for them to keep parenting.
The old saying, “It takes a village to raise a child,” carries a special weight for families built through foster care and adoption. We often reduce foster care to a bureaucracy overlooking the community that makes it possible with encouragement, practical help, and unwavering support.
Which means you have a part in this even if you never adopt. You can offer respite care so a worn-out parent gets a weekend. You can mentor a teenager through the Heart Gallery of Central Florida, which puts real faces to the kids waiting nearby. You can be the neighbor who notices when a family says yes and starts quietly going under. The need is every bit as real.
Two classmates and I built Havenlink, a free tool to help families find the right agency, because that first step is always the hardest. From the home study process to post-adoption resources, we connect families with support at every stage. But an app is a small thing compared to the community that stands behind the family. No agency or court can do this alone.
Robert and Jacob got their morning. Hundreds of kids in this region are still waiting for theirs. And together, we can be that light for a child still waiting to find their home.
Aarav Gupta is a rising senior at Trinity Preparatory School. He serves as the co-founder of HavenLink, a free platform that helps families who want to adopt connect with the right agencies from start to finish.
Read more Horror Nights: Universal will be giving us Fortnitemares as scare zone