Cora Krol looked at her quiet house in 1989 and told her husband Stan: "It's too quiet." They'd raised their own kids. The nest was empty. So when she saw a newspaper ad asking for help at a local group home for adolescents in Pueblo, Colorado, she didn't hesitate.
That decision led to 34 years of opening their door. Over that span, the Krols brought more than 130 children into their home — many of them teenagers who'd cycled through the system, kids carrying the weight of abuse, neglect, legal trouble, school failure. Kids who were hurting.
"You take these kids in because you know they're hurting inside," Stan told The Colorado Springs Gazette, "and you kind of try to get past that and give them the love they need. It's hard."
We're a new kind of news feed.
Regular news is designed to drain you. We're a non-profit built to restore you. Every story we publish is scored for impact, progress, and hope.
Start Your News DetoxAt their peak, the Krols had 11 children living with them at once. The logistics alone — the meals, the laundry, the conversations at 2 a.m. when a teenager couldn't sleep — would exhaust most people. But Cora kept saying yes. "Every time you're ready to start pulling back, there's this little boy that needs you, and how do you say no?" she told The Pueblo Chieftain.
What started as one couple's response to an empty house became something larger. Their daughter Tammy watched what her parents built and became a foster parent herself. Tammy's daughter Sloan joined in. The work that began with Stan and Cora expanded across generations.
The Colorado Department of Human Services eventually recognized them — not as heroes or saints, but as what they are: ordinary people who decided to act. The Krols didn't frame it that way either. "The reason we feel so good is because of what we do," Cora said. "You have to have a purpose," Stan added.
They weren't looking for recognition. They were looking for a way to fill the quiet.
