The space between false hope and false hopelessness is a chasm.

When I worked to find adoptive and permanent families for teens in foster care, I’d often hear from other child welfare workers, “You’re giving the kids false hope.”

It was always said as a bad thing, as if carefully involving teens in their own permanency planning was unhelpful, unreasonable, or in some way detrimental to their mental health.

It began with a dream.

“What if we started our own nonprofit?” I asked my colleague and friend Michelle. I was sitting on my desk, legs dangling, chowing down on a turkey sandwich.

We had about two years left on a five-year federal project; the goal was to find adoptive and permanent families for Minnesota teens under state guardianship. It was time to start thinking about what came next.

“Sometimes, stepping back can help us move forward. That’s why I want to create a life book with you,” I said to 15-year-old Jamie.

Jamie sighed. She’d been in the foster care system for six years, didn’t have a life book yet, and didn’t really want one. In fact, she didn’t really want an adoptive family, either, if we’re being honest – so I had my work cut out for me.

There’s an ancient Taoist parable about a farmer*, which goes something like this:

Once upon a time, a farmer – who earned his livelihood with the help of his horse – found that the horse had gone missing.

The neighbors felt sorry for him, and offered condolences, “Oh no! Your horse ran away – what bad luck!”

The farmer, who had gained some wisdom in his years, replied, “Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?”

I’d been meeting with 16-year-old Hannah* for a couple of months when she finally told me the reason she didn’t want to be adopted.
As an adoption recruiter** – Hannah and her three siblings had been in foster care for eight years – it wasn’t uncommon to hear kids say that they weren’t interested in adoption. Moving around so much, and being let down over and over… well, it’s heartbreaking, to say the least. And when you’re a young person, and you allow yourself to trust – and then that trust gets broken, again and again – it can be hard to see a path forward.
For teens in foster care, it's like the heart is a boomerang: tossed out there, just waiting for the day it returns.

When I think of the analytical sign of Virgo, what often comes to mind is the word discernment. And I’m reminded of a story, told to me by two teen siblings I once knew. It's an appropriate tale for the Full Moon, taking place at 27 degrees Virgo on Friday, March 18, 2022 (2:17am CT).

In my work finding adoptive families for teens in foster care*, I worked with many sibling groups over the years, and heard many stories. But this one has really stuck with me.

Daniel Smith Jr.*, age 15, was clear in telling me that he didn’t want an adoptive family.

This wasn’t unusual. Nearly every teenager I worked with – removed from birth parents, under guardianship of the State, and living within the foster care system – said this to me at some point in our work together.

To most folks not involved in the day-to-day realm of working with teens in foster care, I realize that this might sound strange.

But it really wasn’t.

“Jen, wait up a second!”

As I heard my name, I turned around and saw Ann* approaching with a serious look on her face. I started getting worried; we’d been having regular disagreements over my work for more than a year.

“I heard the radio documentary yesterday…” Ann began.

My work with two teen siblings in foster care had recently been featured in a one-hour documentary on National Public Radio. At the time, I was working for a five-year federally funded project with the goal of finding adoptive and permanent families for Minnesota teens under state guardianship.

“…and I need to talk to you.”