Torch, Fall/Winter 2010

30 TORCH | Fall–Winter 2010 Palmer breaks through their shells — taking them for walks, one-on-one, soothing their souls. “It’s his gift to the world,” she says. “He enters into a relationship just like that, so easily. He understands being poor; he understands broken families. They have a trust with him, and that’s where he shines.” After graduation from Cedarville, he got a job at a child welfare agency in his hometown of Moline, Illinois, working with troubled and often angry kids. “I’m not a big guy,” he says. “I don’t have physical size. But I realized I could calm them down. I could build relationships with kids.” Meanwhile, “the Lord was tugging at my heart to go to seminary,” he says. Palmer ignored the tug. How could he go to seminary when he needed to work full time to support his mom? Walking in Their Shoes Palmer’s dad, Clarence, left when Arlan was six, leaving him, his mom, and seven siblings. “We lost everything,” he says. “We lived on potatoes and government cheese.” They were soon evicted from their rented house on 10th Avenue. “My older siblings talk about coming home and finding all their stuff put out,” Palmer says. “You see how I can understand kids who go through loss and abandonment.” His mother was a nurse at a psychiatric hospital, but as years passed, health problems set in, and she could no longer work. Palmer worked two jobs to support her. But that calling to the ministry kept tugging. “The Lord and I made a deal,” he says. “I said, ‘Lord, I’ll go to seminary if you find me a full-time job there.’” He smiles. “Do not put the Lord to the test.” Then he laughs his booming laugh. A New Journey At 23, he enrolled in Grand Rapids Baptist Seminary full time and worked at Wedgwood full time. The double load was staggering. He nearly flunked out but graduated in 1992 with a Master of Divinity and stayed on at Wedgwood. “I thought it would be nice to be a chaplain for kids who hurt. I know hurt. When I see kids come here not with suitcases, but with garbage bags,” he says, quietly, and pauses, “I have flashbacks of being put out of my house.” He has opened his own house to more than 40 teens since 1991, taking a break only recently. Being a foster dad hasn’t been easy. “You get yelled at, cussed at, stolen from,” he says. “You can’t take it personally,” he adds, “but you do.” “Then, sometimes they call you, out of the clear blue sky,” he continues. “The ones who said they want nothing to do with you, who said you’re too strict, who you think you’ll never see again ...” He smiles. “Those are the ones who come back.” And often call him “Dad.” Palmer meets weekly with his Teens on Track group at his church, teaching life skills, leading them to volunteer in the neighborhood, and taking them fishing. “If it wasn’t for this, I’d be out on the streets doin’ no tellin’ what,” says Justin, who works at Building Bridges Professional Services doing maintenance and lawn care. “When I felt like selling drugs because I had no money, he helped me get a job,” Justin says of Palmer. “When I was expelled from school, he helped get me back in. When I was goin’ through problems with my mom, he talked to my mom. He really believes in us, you know, getting us summer jobs and doing anything, really, to keep us out of trouble.” Up From the Pain “We’re all wounded people, in some way, shape, or fashion,” Palmer says. “Out of our wounds, we’re able to minister. I say to kids, ‘Someday you’ll be able to help another kid because of what happened to you.’” “Would I like to have done my life differently? You bet,” he says. “I don’t like that