Foster Care and the Church
By T. R. Robertson Last Christmas our home was filled with the same sort of holiday laughter and sharing that most families experience. We had a houseful of grown sons, now young men in their upper 20s. Along with them came a wife, a girlfriend, and little kids. All of them call us Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa. Not one of them shares a drop of our blood or a strand of our DNA. The only one of our foster sons not there was Jeremy, whom we haven”t seen since he left our custody just before he turned 2,





