Feb 19 2026 05:11
Nancy McCullar

When 15-year-old Sabino (all names changed to protect confidentiality) steps into the neighborhood pool, the noise of the world softens.
The grief.
The anger.
The questions that don’t have answers.
For a little while, it’s just the water.
Sabino has endured more loss than most adults. Both of his parents are deceased. His younger brother has since been adopted — a joyful outcome, but one that left Sabino still navigating foster care alone. Along the way, he has struggled with PTSD, emotional outbursts, and the daily challenges of being on the autism spectrum.
But in his corner is someone who refuses to let him drift.
Her name is Lorraine.
As Sabino’s CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocate) volunteer, Lorraine’s role is to advocate for his best interests — in school, in court, and in life. A former speech therapist, she saw something others might have missed: Sabino didn’t just need structure. He needed an outlet.
“He has so much energy, and so much bottled up inside,” she has shared with those supporting him. “He needs somewhere safe to release it.”
Her solution? Swimming.
Why the Water Matters
Research increasingly shows that swimming can be especially powerful for children who have experienced trauma.
Trauma lives in the body. Experts in child development and neuroscience explain that traumatic stress can keep a young person’s nervous system in a constant state of “fight or flight.” Rhythmic, repetitive movements — like swimming laps — help regulate that stress response by calming the nervous system.
The steady pattern of stroke and breath can lower cortisol levels, improve mood, and create a sense of predictability and control — something traumatized children often lack.
For youth on the autism spectrum, the benefits can be even more pronounced. Studies suggest that repetitive bilateral movements (using both sides of the body in rhythm) can improve focus, coordination, and even support cognitive processes linked to reading and executive functioning. The deep pressure and sensory input from water can also be regulating, helping reduce anxiety and sensory overload.
As a former educator and swim instructor, Lorraine understood this connection instinctively.
She believed that the repetitive, structured movements of swimming could help Sabino build the focus and regulation he needs not only in the pool, but in the classroom.
Turning Advocacy into Action
Believing in an idea is one thing. Making it happen is another.
Lorraine didn’t wait.
The CASA Berks Everson Special Needs Fund for foster children allowed Lorraine to purchase everything Sabino would need: swim trunks, goggles, and other essentials. She advocated for a membership at the community center so he would have consistent access to the pool. And knowing that support matters, she arranged for someone to accompany him to his swim sessions to ensure he feels safe and encouraged.
It wasn’t just about exercise. It was about commitment.
It was about showing Sabino that someone sees him — and is willing to invest in him.
A Place to Release and Rebuild
In the pool, Sabino’s powerful emotions have somewhere to go.
Instead of erupting in outbursts, he channels energy into motion. Instead of spiraling, he counts laps. Instead of feeling different, he feels strong.
There’s something transformative about mastering a skill — about pushing off the wall and knowing your body can carry you forward.
For a teen who has experienced profound loss and the complicated grief of watching a sibling find permanency first, swimming offers something steady. Predictable. Earned.
And slowly, those steady strokes are building more than muscle.
They’re building confidence.
They’re building regulation.
They’re building resilience.
The Quiet Power of Showing Up
CASA volunteers are often described as “the one consistent adult” in a child’s life within the foster care system. Lorraine embodies that role fully.
She didn’t try to change Sabino overnight.
She didn’t try to silence his struggles.
She found a way to help him move through them.
Swimming won’t erase his trauma. It won’t rewrite his past. But it gives him a tool — one he can carry with him long after foster care ends.
And perhaps most importantly, it sends a message that every child deserves to hear:
You matter.
Your healing matters.
And someone is willing to fight for what helps you thrive.
For Sabino, healing isn’t happening all at once.
It’s happening one breath, one stroke, one lap at a time.
