The Day Lena Stopped Counting Doors: A Story About Finding Home

I used to count doors. Not windows, not beds, not schools. Doors. 🚪

Because in my experience, the number of doors I walked through told me something important: how many times I’d had to start over. Each door was a heavy wooden marker of a "before" and an "after." Each one represented a new set of rules, a new smell in the kitchen, and a new group of people who might: or might not: stay.

When you are in foster care, you become an expert in thresholds. You learn how to stand in a doorway without taking up too much space. You learn how to look at a room and see where your suitcase will fit, just in case you need to leave quickly. For a long time, I didn't want to get attached to the walls. Why love a wall if you aren’t sure you’ll see it again next Tuesday?

The Weight of Starting Over

Door one was the house where I was born. I don’t remember much about it, only a feeling of wanting more.

Door two was my first foster home. It felt loud and strange.

Doors three and four blurred together into a swirl of different backpacks and new teachers who couldn't always pronounce my name right on the first try. By the time I got to door five, I had learned the most important lesson of all: Protect your heart. 💖

I decided that if I didn't unpack my heart, it couldn't get broken when it was time to move again. I stayed "ready." I stayed quiet. I kept my eyes on the doors, always counting, always wondering when the next one would open to lead me somewhere else.

The Suitcase With the Purple Ribbon

I carried everything I owned in one small suitcase. It had a bright purple ribbon tied to the handle: my favorite color. That ribbon was my North Star. As long as I had that suitcase, I had "me."

Inside, I kept the pieces of my world that I refused to leave behind:

• Button: My stuffed bunny with the floppy ear. He’s seen every single one of those doors with me. 🧸

• Two Books: Stories about adventures and heroes. They reminded me that even the hardest chapters have a middle and an end.

• A Drawing of the Sky: I made it with the brightest blue crayon I could find. No matter which house I was in, the sky was always the same. It was the only thing that didn't change.

• A Secret Note: A piece of paper I never threw away. It said: "You are loved. You belong somewhere beautiful. Keep going." 📝

I didn’t unpack at door number six either. Not at first. I set my suitcase by the window and sat on the edge of the bed. I waited for that familiar feeling: the one that told me this wasn’t "it." I waited for the feeling that said this was just another stop on a long, long road.

At Lena's Adventures, we know how important these items are. That’s why our Pajama and Stuffed Animal Drives are so close to our hearts. Every child deserves a "Button" to hold onto when the doors keep changing.

The Moment I Was Seen

But then, something happened at door number six.

I walked into the hallway, counting under my breath like I always did. One, two, three steps to the kitchen... But I stopped moving when I looked at the wall.

Usually, the walls in a new house are filled with strangers. People in graduation gowns, babies I don’t know, grandmas with kind eyes who aren't my grandma. But at door number six, there were photographs on the wall, and I saw something impossible.

There was a photograph of me. 📸

My face. My smile. Two puffs and red bows. I was already part of the wall. I wasn't an "extra" or a "guest." I was a member of the family before I even walked through the entrance.

A woman came around the corner. She didn't tower over me or talk down to me. She knelt down so she was at my eye level: exactly where I was. She looked at me with eyes that felt like a warm blanket and said four words that changed my whole life:

"We've been waiting for you." ✨

In that moment, I felt a tiny crack in the wall I’d built around my heart. For the first time, I wasn't just another number in a system. I was Lena. And I was expected.

Waffles, Strawberries, and Tuesdays

Old habits run deep. Trust isn't a light switch; it’s more like a seedling that needs a lot of water and sunshine to grow. 🪴

For the first two weeks, I still slept with my shoes near the bed. I still kept the purple-ribbon suitcase zipped tight. But the "feeling": the one that told me to be ready to leave: started to fade. It was replaced by the sound of laughter in the morning and the smell of breakfast.

On a Tuesday afternoon, the light came through the kitchen window just right. It wasn't a holiday. It wasn't my birthday. But there were waffles with strawberries on the table, just because. 🍓🧇

"You like extra syrup, right?" my foster mom asked, smiling.

She remembered. She didn't just see me; she knew me.

The Day I Unpacked

That was the day. I went back to my room, but I didn't sit on the edge of the bed to wait. I walked over to the suitcase with the purple ribbon and I pulled the zipper. Zzzzzip.

I took Button out and put him right on the center of the pillow. I took my books and lined them up on the shelf, spine-to-spine. I took my drawing of the sky and used a piece of tape to put it on the wall, right next to the window.

And the note: the one that promised I belonged somewhere beautiful: I read it one more time. I didn't need to carry it in my pocket anymore. I tucked it safely in the top drawer.

That’s what home feels like: knowing something will still be there tomorrow. 🏠✨

A Note From Regina Alston, Founder of Lena’s Adventures

Lena’s story is my story. It is also the story of thousands of children currently navigating the foster care system, counting doors and waiting for the one that finally stays open.

I founded Lena’s Adventures because I needed a character like Lena to exist when I was small. I needed to see a brave, adventurous girl who looked like me, who carried a suitcase like mine, and who eventually found the belonging she deserved.

Every book we create, every Next Step Trunk we distribute, and every birthday cake we donate is a way of saying: "We've been waiting for you."

We want every foster and adopted child to know that they are seen, they are celebrated, and they are never, ever alone. Whether you are a foster parent looking for resources or a supporter looking to make a difference, you are part of Lena's journey.

Lena’s Books Are Waiting for Your Child

Give a foster or adopted child the gift of seeing themselves in a story that ends with belonging. Our books are designed to mirror the real experiences of foster youth while wrapping them in hope and joy. 📖🌈

• Get the Books:Explore Lena's Adventures Shop

• Support the Mission:Donate to help us provide resources to foster families

• Learn More: Read why representation in books changes lives.

Let's make sure no child has to keep counting. Let's help them find home. 💖