YOU CAN CHOOSE YOUR FAMILY - IN FOSTERING

Just when you think you've experienced all the joys of fostering, along comes a new one.

This is about a piece of wisdom you hear from time to time.

"You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family".

You've heard it too, or some variation - sometimes people say; "You can choose your friends but you can't choose your colleagues". Same ballgown, diffferent ball.

This last weekend delivered a triumphant discovery, namely this;

IN FOSTERING YOU CAN CHOOSE YOUR FAMILY, FRIENDS AND COLLEAGUES ALL IN ONE!!!

What happened was this (and I'm able to tell this one near enough like it is).

About 14 years ago we helped with the fostering of a newborn boy. We supported the baby's single mother, and the mother's younger sibling. The fathers were unknown and the mother ended up in prison. The sibling joined us as our foster child and became permanent (Chosen Family). The mother and baby stayed close to us; we'd look after the baby every other weekend to give the mother some time (Chosen Family).

The boy grew up without a father; bonded instead with my other half (Chosen Family).

One of my husband's hobbies is cricket, and at the start of this summer (2026) the boy developed the bug. Out of the blue he independently joined a local cricket club who were in need of young blood and they pitched him straight in at the deep end. 

He was not only named in the starting eleven for the first team…he was down to open the bowling. I know enough about cricket to know that opening the bowling is a singular honour…and they'd never even seen the boy play.

Hardly anyone had seen him play. He only had his first ever game for his school a few weeks ago. Word had spread that he could bowl like the wind. He's only 14 years but getting on six foot, anyone can see he's a whirlwind.

Such excitement! 

There was only one snag; no kit. No bat, no pads, no gloves, no helmet (compulsory these days). And his dear mother (Chosen Family) is on universal credit, struggling to make ends meet, but proud.

The situation called for a massive pull-together.

(Remember, this little piece is all about being able to choose family, friends, and colleagues, and how fostering gives us the opportunity).

My husband called an ex-colleague of his (Colleague), someone he's worked alongside for years who is a cricket nut.

The ex-colleague phoned a bloke he knew (Friend) who had a big bunch of cricket gear in store. It happened that my husband also knew the self-same friend of his colleague because they'd played cricket against each other donkey's years ago and got on (Friends). But hadn't spoken for decades.

Back came the answer "Yes". The bloke could - and would - provide all the gubbins required, packed into a tip-top cricket bag absolutley free, he was glad it was going to a good cause.

We arranged the transport.

The equipment arrived in time, my husband went across the county to watch the boy's debut. The boy proudly showed husband his Newberry bat (apparently the bees knees), the second-hand but top-end gloves, and a helmet that had clearly seen action.

Then came the stinger.

The cricket equipment was personal.

It had belonged to the bloke's son (Family).

My husband sat in the sunshine drinking in the experience. His fostering son (Chosen Family) playing cricket among men wearing cricket stuff blagged from a dear colleague's dear friend who wanted a deserving owner of his son's old kit.

The bloke (200 miles away) spent the afternoon texting my husband at the match to see how the boy was going along.

Friends. Colleagues. Family (fostering family).

The Holy Trinity surely.

Only, I think, in fostering.