Love Today. Strength Tomorrow. After months of prayer, planning, and persistence, REC Haven has officially received our 501(c)(3) nonprofit designation from the IRS! This incredible milestone means we can now accept tax-deductible donations and apply for grants that will help us bring our vision to life — creating a safe haven for children and families in our community.
This is my son. He’s standing in a hospital room in a gown that’s three sizes too big, staring up at medical equipment he doesn’t understand, trusting the adults in the room to speak for him. To do right by him. To protect him. And in that moment, I’m reminded, again, why I’m building REC Haven Inc. You would think as a parent you walk into a doctor’s office and everything should feel safe and straightforward. You ask questions, you get answers, and everyone works together. But it doesn’t always happen that way. Sometimes parents aren’t listened to. Sometimes we’re talked around instead of talked to. Sometimes medical terms are thrown at us like we’re supposed to automatically understand them, even though most families were never taught how to read a lab result, what a “normal range” actually means, or when we should say, “I’m not sure I agree with that—can we look deeper?” I’ve had moments—more than I can count—where my instincts as a mom were brushed aside or dismissed. I’ve seen the way that lack of clarity leaves parents feeling anxious, helpless, or confused. And I’ve learned something that I can’t ignore: Children are safest when the adults who love them know how to advocate for them. Advocacy isn’t just being protective. It’s understanding. Understanding how to read what’s on that screen. Understanding what questions to ask. Understanding how to make sure your child’s voice is heard—even when they can’t speak up for themselves. That is one of the pillars of REC Haven Inc. We’re not just building programs for children. We’re helping strengthen the adults who care for them. We’re empowering families to handle the everyday things—budgeting, cooking, life skills—but also the big things. The things that impact a child’s health, safety, and future. And as my son stands there barefoot in that oversized gown, I’m reminded of every child who doesn’t have an adult fully equipped to advocate for them. I’m reminded of the teens who age out of the system and face adulthood without anyone to guide them. I’m reminded of the parents who love their kids deeply but were never taught what they now need to teach. And I’m reminded why we’re doing this. We’re building something that can change the future—by supporting the present. Love Today. Strength Tomorrow. That’s our promise.
Today is Giving Tuesday, and as I get ready to share our mission with the world, one moment keeps coming back to me over and over again. A 15-year-old girl sitting across from me, asking questions no child should ever have to ask. Not questions about friends or school or plans for the weekend. Not dreams for the future or typical teen worries. But questions that carried fear. Questions that were far too adult. Questions that told me, loud and clear, that the world had put more weight on her shoulders than she should ever have to carry. And as she talked, I remember thinking: “Where was the support her family needed long before this moment?” Because no child wakes up one day and suddenly ends up in a situation where DCS becomes involved. There are warning signs long before that. There are stressors. There are gaps. There are needs. And too often, there’s no place for families to turn until things have spiraled so far that removing a child becomes the only option left on the table. I refuse to accept that. Not when preventable situations keep repeating. Not when families are trying but simply don’t have the tools. Not when teens are left to carry emotional loads they were never meant to carry. Not when parents are overwhelmed, unsupported, and unsure where to begin. REC Haven Inc. exists to step in before things break. Before the crisis. Before the investigation. Before a child is left wondering what happens next.
Some stories begin quietly — not with a single dramatic moment, but with years of watching love practiced like a rhythm. REC Haven didn’t start when I filed paperwork or chose a name. It began when I was a little girl growing up in a home where compassion wasn’t taught — it was lived.
