One of my foster daughters had a habit of lying. 

Looking back, I should’ve picked up on it the very first night. While she was on the phone with her brother, the first thing he asked her was, “Have you been lying?” That question alone should’ve raised a red flag. 

Later on, I caught her stealing a vape from my cousin’s room. Now, before you jump to conclusions about access, let me explain. His room was in the basement—his choice for privacy—and one of our clear house rules was that she was not allowed down there at all. There was no reason for her to be there. Sure, the washer and dryer were in the basement, but I handled the laundry. I even told her that if she wanted to do her clothes separately from ours, she could do it on the weekend when I was home. She didn’t take me up on that, so again, no reason to be down there. 

The vape wasn’t just lying around either—it was tucked away in his desk. 

We have security cameras in the common areas of the house for the safety of our foster and daycare kids. Sure enough, the footage showed her sneaking down there and taking it. She clearly knew she wasn’t supposed to be there. 

Another red flag. 

When I got her cell phone from her grandmother, the caseworker instructed me not to give it back until I had gone through it thoroughly—deleting everything except the essentials and reporting anything important. 

Oh, the things I found on that phone. 

There were texts from friends and family calling her out for lies. Multiple lies. Repeated patterns. Message after message revealed she had been dishonest with nearly everyone around her. 

Another warning sign that I wish I’d taken more seriously. 

Then one day, she took something small from my room—something I had promised to give her in three days if she could just wait. When I asked her about it, she denied everything. A week later, I found it under her pillow during a routine room check. 

I was heartbroken. 

The lying, the stealing—it became so frequent I couldn’t leave her out of my sight. Not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t know how else to protect her from the patterns she was stuck in. No consequence or redirection seemed to reach her. 

Eventually, she went to live with family in another state. 

I still pray for her. I still love her. I still want the best for her. 

Even when trust is broken, love doesn’t have to be.