When people tell me they’re too scared to become foster parents, that the unknown feels too overwhelming, I always think back to one night that changed everything for me.

It was the first night one of our little foster girls spent in our home. She had arrived just hours earlier, carrying nothing but a small bag and a world of fear in her eyes. We were strangers to her, and she was a stranger to us, but we tried to bridge that gap the best we could. We introduced ourselves, showed her her room, reminded her gently that this house was safe. It’s what we’ve told every child who’s crossed our threshold: “You are safe here.”

But safety isn’t something you can just say—it has to be felt.

When bedtime came, she grew quiet, then frightened. Tears filled her eyes as she whispered that she didn’t want the monsters to get her. We didn’t yet know her full story. We didn’t know what “monsters” meant to her. Maybe they were only imaginary shadows. Or maybe, tragically, she had real ones in her past—people or memories that crept into the night.

My husband knelt down beside her bed. He said a soft prayer, tucking her in carefully, trying to soothe her worry. But she asked again: “Can you promise me no monsters will get me if I fall asleep?”

He looked her in the eyes and said the words she needed most: “I promise.”

And he didn’t just say it—he showed it. To keep her at ease, he stayed right there, close by, through the night. Her little hand clung to his as sleep finally overtook her, comforted by the simple assurance that someone would stand between her and the darkness.

That was the moment it struck me. This—this child—was who people are afraid to help? This child, who had already lived through more fear and uncertainty than most adults could bear, simply needed someone to promise no monsters would come.

Yes, foster care is scary. I won’t sugarcoat it. There are moments of doubt, moments when nerves set in, moments when the responsibility feels heavy. But I can also promise this: it is worth it. Every single time.

Because foster care isn’t about being fearless. It’s about being willing. Willing to stand in the gap. Willing to say, “You are safe now.” Willing to sit by a bed all night if that’s what it takes for a child to finally rest.

You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to have all the answers. You just have to be willing to keep the monsters away.

And the truth is—you can do it.