700

This reflection comes from Abby Smith, Director of Programs at Skookum Kids, who has been with us since before child No. 1.

Milestones at Skookum are tricky celebrations. It’s hard to acknowledge good and important work being done without feeling the weight of why the work is necessary to begin with. I find myself wondering how to celebrate that 700 children have needed a safe place outside their home. Something I’ve been reminded of though, is that the need is here whether we are prepared to meet it or not. The celebration is of an opportunity to say yes. 

There were a few months in 2015 when Skookum House was completely outfitted, and we were just waiting on our license to be approved. There were sheets on the beds and tiny socks waiting in drawers and a blue betta fish swimming around in a bowl on the mantle. We would hold our Friday afternoon meetings at the dining room table as we got closer and closer to our opening date, and each week, the social worker on our team would be drawn away from the table to solve a placement emergency. We’d overhear her recounting last-resort options and making impossible decisions of which siblings to split up. 

“Do we have a home that can take all three?”

“No, not tonight.”

“What about Skookum? Are they open?” 

“No. Not yet.” 

So when I think about the 700th child being welcomed through the doors of Skookum
House, I think of the 700 times our staff have gotten to be on the other end of that phone call, and the opportunities we’ve had to say yes. 

One night I answered the phone to a particularly frazzled social worker. She thought she had found a stable placement for a set of siblings, but it fell through at the last minute. She gave me the information a little bit at a time, pausing after each announcement and waiting for me to say no. There’s five of them. The oldest is a 17 year old boy. They all need to be seen by a doctor first thing in the morning. The youngest two don’t speak English.  

“Yep,” I said. “We can handle it. Where are they now?” 

“In my car,” The social worker said. “We’re headed your way.” 

That weekend was wild. Volunteers built bike jumps in the parking lot and took them ice skating for the first time ever. The health clinic let us jump the line and then sent us to the donut shop down the street. The oldest boys pulled me aside at one point to express that though they were grateful, they were concerned that they honestly just couldn’t finish all of the baked goods and meals that volunteers were making. Our spanish-speaking interns barely went home for three days. 

When Monday came, we were packing their bags and printing their paperwork when their social worker called. Over the weekend she had found a relative that could take the whole crew, but not until Tuesday. At this point in time, Skookum House only had enough staff and resources to be open Friday-Monday, but I asked the social worker to give me an hour and I’d get back to her. All it took was one question on our volunteer facebook page: 

“This family needs one more night with us, can we do it?” 

The answer was yes. 

A Western student got permission to get to class 15 minutes late so she could cover an overnight shift. One volunteer said she would do a shift but her car was in the shop, another volunteer offered to give her a ride. I walked down to the basement to see two women folding laundry. “We assumed you hadn’t gotten to this, we had plans to get lunch anyways so stopped by on our way,” they said, and started another load. A multitude of tiny yeses filled the gap for that family to stay together, and though it was probably 650 kids ago, I’ll never forget it. 

A few weeks later, Skookum House was regularly open seven days a week. 

In 2019 Skookum got an unexpected “no” from an important source of funding. It was a tense time and there were moments when we couldn’t see a clear path for the future of our work. It was hard to imagine a world where we would have to ration our ability to welcome kids through our big blue door. We turned to our community and asked what felt like a really vulnerable question: 

Do you believe in our work enough to keep us going? 

The response came in the form of small businesses, church communities, and even a few elementary schoolers with lemonade stands. In $25 donations, Fred Meyer gift cards, and words of encouragement, the answer was a resounding yes. 

So in the past five years I’ve felt the joy of saying yes, and I’ve also experienced the relief of hearing it. Both experiences are powerful and humbling and remind me what the work of Skookum Kids is. I realize that together, we are in the business of finding ways to say yes. Yes to taking on big challenges, and yes to finding new ways to fix old problems. Yes to each other and to long nights and to bad coffee. Most importantly though, we’ve had the opportunity to look at 700 little faces and say: 

Yes, you are safe.

Yes, you matter to us.

Yes, you have a place to belong. 

This important work is only possible because 200+ people just like you have made a pledge of regular financial support. Join them today at skookumkids.org/give.