Love that Stays.

Did you ever hear your parents tell you, “Be kind to everyone — you never know what they’re going through at home”? That sentence used to sound simple. But the more I’ve seen, the more I’ve realized that some kids don’t really have a home. Sure, they might have a roof over their heads, but not the kind of home where they feel safe. Not the kind where they’re told, “I love you” every single day.

I grew up surrounded by love. I had stability, encouragement, and people who reminded me that I mattered. I never realized that the smallest things in my world — dinner around the table, being tucked in at night, hearing “good job” — were the very things some kids have never known.

Imagine turning eighteen and realizing you have nowhere to go. No one to call. No place that truly feels like yours. That’s the reality for too many teens in the foster care system. Some have been in it their whole lives; others enter in their mid-teens after years of instability and trauma. Their lives are a story of survival — and yet, somehow, there’s still hope in their eyes.

During my last semester of college, I joined a volunteer group that hosts crafts and life-skill workshops at the Tulsa Girls’ Home. I’ll never forget my first day walking through the doors. There was something different about it. I could feel the love inside the walls — not perfect love, not easy love, but real love. I left that day knowing I had found something I was meant to be part of.

Month after month, I kept coming back. Each time, the girls opened up a little more — and so did I. I saw strength in their laughter, courage in their vulnerability, and healing in their small steps forward. But I also saw how easy it is for them to lose faith that anyone will stay. That’s when I realized something I’ll never forget: love here has to be unconditional, because for many of these girls, nobody else has shown them that kind of love before.

What makes the Tulsa Girls home special is, it’s more than just a roof over their heads — it’s a home. A place to heal. Every corner of the home reflects compassion and care.

There will be moments of heartbreak, moments where you question if you’re doing enough, or if love alone can make a difference. But then you remember — it’s not about being perfect. It’s about being present. Every time we choose patience over frustration, grace over judgment, we are helping rebuild the trust the world took from them. These girls see that love can last.

After graduating from college, I became an advocate at Tulsa Girls’ Home — the very same place my passion and heart met. And each day, I am reminded that the girls aren’t the only ones growing. I can say with my whole heart that the Tulsa Girls’ Home has changed me — as a volunteer, as an advocate, and as a person. It’s shown me what unconditional love really looks like.

Because when you open your heart to these kids, you quickly learn that love will be tested. But when you keep showing up anyway — when you love without conditions — that’s when healing truly begins.

The world isn’t always built to benefit these children. But we can be. We can be their constant. Their safe place. Their hope.

And I can’t imagine a greater calling than that.

Written by: Skylar, TGH Advocate
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The Strength Found in What’s Absent