In the bleak vocabulary of foster care, at 18 years old you "age out of the system."

Officially too old to have a foster family anymore, all of a sudden you're on your own, maybe sleeping on the couch of someone you hardly know. And then, often, one bad thing leads to another. In Utah, more than one-third of the youths who aged out of foster care between 1999 and 2003 were arrested for a felony or misdemeanor within three years, more than half were diagnosed with a major mental illness, more than half received food stamps. These gloomy numbers are what mobilized Dorothy and Bert Dart three years ago to launch the Youth Mentor Project through their church, First Presbyterian. The Darts' idea was to provide wisdom, practical advice and a safe harbor — the kind of help a family member might provide, if the family were stable.

The Utah departments of Human Services and Workforce Services, also alarmed by the foster care statistics, five years ago began to provide education and employment opportunities for former foster youths through the Transition to Adult Living program, Youth Employment Services and Education and Training Voucher funds; and in 2006 the Legislature extended Medicaid benefits to age 21.

Still, a program isn't quite the same as one friendly, consistent voice on the other end of the phone — someone who actually remembers your birthday, who offers to take you bowling, who tells you that, yes, if you stepped on a rusty nail you might need a tetanus shot (and, by the way, would you like a ride to the emergency room?).

"My mentors are stable ground," says Ashley Wagstaff about Ruth and Bruce Lubbers. Wagstaff lived with two different foster families before turning 18; the first set of parents were sometimes abusive, she says, and the second family was "a blessing" but ended up moving to Wyoming.

So she was eager to have a mentor. But, frankly, when she first met the Lubbers two years ago, she wasn't sure it was a good fit. Eventually she realized what made her uncomfortable: She was more used to the high-energy chaos that comes with having a mother who suffers from bipolar disorder, and the Lubbers were so ... calm.

"It opened my eyes to a different kind of living," says Wagstaff, who at 20 is now enrolled at the University of Utah. A couple of weeks ago, when she was having a bad day, she called Ruth Lubbers and cried. Pretty soon she was on her way to the Lubbers' house, where she curled up on the couch under a comforter while they all watched a movie and ate popcorn.

"As soon as they can see another way of living they can imagine themselves living that way," explains Dorothy Dart. "I think that's the key."