One House. Many Hands.
One Purpose.
We are a team of ordinary people who believe that every baby deserves safety, warmth and love, and that faith expressed in action can change a life before it has even begun.
The Heart of the Home
House Parents, Daybreak House
Four years ago Marlene woke up on a Thursday morning carrying something she could only describe as a word from God spoken to her in the night. She prayed about it for four days, and on the Sunday evening she spoke to Thinus. It simply felt right, to become parents again after 28 years, of one new baby that quietly became new babies. Marlene is quick to correct anyone who frames what they do as sacrifice. This is not a situation of giving up afternoons and weekends, she says. We are parents of little humans who fill our house with laughter and joy. Their home is full of tiny fingerprints, crumbs and toys, and she would not have it any other way. They have learned to carry the work together in a way that honours who each of them is. She understands that Thinus needs stillness, so she takes the little ones on outings and birthday parties so he can sit around the fire and count their blessings. He understands that she draws life from little people, so he makes space for that without question. The reality of the work, Marlene says quietly, is that it stays tough. They do not know what the future holds for each child who passes through their care, and they have made peace with not knowing. The most important fact stays, she says, that God is in control and He knows their destiny. Thinus says it simply and without pretence: showing up is an emotional rollercoaster. The energy and strength required to do it does not come from within themselves. It is a passion that comes from God, and it is renewed every day. And when Marlene is asked what moment has stayed with her above all others, she does not need to think. To hand a parent a child that parent has been praying for for years is the biggest honour, she says. It is a moment on earth that becomes holy for a minute. The honour of being a child’s very first parent is a feeling so humble it passes all understanding.
Leadership
The Grové Schoombee Foundation is led by three women who bring very different professional lives to one shared conviction, that every vulnerable baby deserves more than survival.
Director, The Grové Schoombee Foundation npc
Marli is a medical doctor who spends much of her working life in the focused, precise world of neurosurgery and finds her balance at Daybreak House, where a missing dummy is the biggest emergency and her stethoscope doubles as a teething toy. She and her husband adopted their three children, which means that when she looks at a baby in care at Daybreak House she is not simply seeing a child in a difficult situation. She is seeing the start of a massive adventure, and she knows exactly how much joy is waiting for the family that will one day take that little one home. As a doctor she is fascinated by infant development, but she is quick to demystify it. Beyond the formula, the sleep and the mountain of nappies, what a baby craves most is a person, someone who makes eye contact, who talks to them, who is simply present. That, she says, is brain fuel. We are not just minding them; we are helping them wire their world for connection. Her faith is the thread that ties all of it together. She is drawn to the verse in James that describes true religion as looking after orphans in their distress, a reminder that God has a particular heart for children without a safety net. Co-founding Daybreak House allowed her to bring her medical background and her experience as an adoptive mother into the same space, to be part of the engine room of something that meets a very real need with the highest possible standard of care.
Director, The Grové Schoombee Foundation npc
The vision for the Grové Schoombee Foundation was born directly out of love, faith and heartbreaking loss. It began with Suliztha’s brother Grové, who passed away from colon cancer in 2021. Throughout his battle, she watched in awe as God’s grace enveloped him. He was never angry. He sought God daily. She remembers how Grové would pray over all of them, and how she thought at the time that he was the one who needed the prayers. She was wrong. Her brother was already walking hand in hand with Jesus. Losing him changed her perspective on life forever and left her with one consuming desire, to bring beauty from ashes. She spoke to Marli about the devastating reality of abandoned babies and the orphan crisis in South Africa. Around the same time Alfreda felt a deep calling to open a charity for children in need. As friends they prayed together, spoke with their husbands, and knew without a doubt that God had a divine plan. The Grové Schoombee Foundation grew from that exact intersection of hope, light and purpose, taking a family’s deepest sorrow and transforming it into a sanctuary for vulnerable babies who desperately need a champion. Today Suliztha serves as the hands and feet on the ground every single day, and she is quick to say that what she witnesses is not burden but privilege. Showing up with the same passion on the difficult days as on the celebratory ones is both the greatest challenge and the greatest reward. Her faith removes the pressure of relying on her own strength. In child welfare so many outcomes are entirely out of her control, but they are never out of God’s control. She trusts completely that He will sustain this Foundation for as long as it aligns with His purpose. These babies belong to God first, she says. He covers them in grace and He loves them far more deeply than she ever could. And beyond the babies, she believes the Foundation’s most important contribution to South Africa is proving that hope is a living, breathing action, shifting the cultural narrative around child welfare and inspiring everyday families to open their hearts and homes to children in need.
Director, The Grové Schoombee Foundation npc
Alfreda is a practicing lawyer, a mother of four, one of whom is adopted, and one of the three co-founders of the Grové Schoombee Foundation. She brings to the Foundation something that a house full of love still needs: structure, rigour and an understanding of rights, protection and accountability. Her legal mind means that when Daybreak House makes a promise, to a baby, to a donor, to a volunteer, it is a promise built on solid ground. Her own experience of adoption has given her a window into the child protection system that is both personal and professional, and it has only deepened her commitment to ensuring that vulnerable children in South Africa are met with the highest possible standard of care. Alfreda is a full-time lawyer who gives what time she has to the Foundation with precision and purpose.
Operations
Operational Manager & Volunteer Coordinator
Sandra is the person who holds Daybreak House together from the inside out. Her days are full and varied, from ensuring every baby is well cared for, to checking in on her team, to welcoming every person who walks through the door. It truly takes everyone to sail the Daybreak House ship, she says, and she makes sure no one sails it alone. As a mother herself, her greatest priority is that every baby at Daybreak House is well, not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually too. Nothing warms her heart more than hearing little ones giggle in the passage or call her name when they need to be calmed down. Being a safe space for them when they are not at their best is something she treasures deeply. As Volunteer Coordinator she looks for people who understand the importance of the work and who are willing to give their love to the children in their care, people ready to join hands for the greater good of the little ones. Her faith shapes everything about how she leads. She is deeply grateful for the God-fearing women who work alongside her, and she finds something profoundly beautiful in watching the babies pray for one another before meals and before bedtime, learning from the earliest age that there is comfort and power in leaning on the Lord. Sandra has always been someone who wants to stand up for those who cannot fight for themselves. Being given the opportunity to do that every day alongside phenomenal women who share the same dream is not something she takes lightly. This is not just a job for me, she says. This is a place I call home, where every milestone is celebrated, because we know exactly how long it took and what it took to get here.
Social Worker & Administrator
Anje never imagined her role at Daybreak House would stretch so far beyond social work, but she has come to understand that in a place like this, love cannot stay inside one job description. Some days it looks like comforting a crying baby. Other days it looks like counting nappies, managing finances, or making sure there is enough formula for the week ahead. She realised quickly that every spreadsheet and every stock list connects back to a real child with real needs. Social work, she says, found her long before she officially studied it. She has always carried a deep sensitivity toward pain, especially the pain of children who were never given the safety and love they deserved. But working at Daybreak is something even deeper than a career to her. It is a calling. These babies arrive carrying stories they cannot yet speak about, stories of neglect, abandonment, trauma and loss formed before they can even find words. Stepping into a more active social work role means becoming an advocate, protector and emotional anchor for children who cannot yet speak for themselves, walking alongside adoptive families, supporting reunification processes, working with hospitals and courts, and ensuring that every decision made is truly in the best interest of the child. But beyond the professional responsibilities, it means learning each child’s cries, fears, personality and comfort needs. Social work at Daybreak, she says, is not only paperwork and processes. It is attachment, presence, and helping carry the weight of a child’s story until they are old enough to carry it themselves. Her faith is the foundation of all of it. On the days when the stories are unbearably heavy, it reminds her that compassion is not just a feeling but a responsibility, and that healing happens slowly, quietly, through ordinary acts of love repeated consistently over time. She does not see these babies as cases. She sees them as lives entrusted to their care for a moment in time.
Administrative Manager, The Grové Schoombee Foundation
Yolane is a wife and mother of two grown children whose connection to Daybreak House began through her daughter Esthie. What started as sponsoring photographs for Mandela Day grew into a working relationship as the Foundation’s photographer, then volunteering, and eventually the directors approached her to join the team full time. Each step drew her closer, and it is not hard to understand why. As a mother she recognised immediately what these babies needed, not only food, nappies and medicine, but routine, touch, patience, comfort and people who keep showing up. Today she describes her role simply: it is hard to put a single label on it. She manages the day-to-day administration, event planning, fundraising, the design and maintenance of the Foundation’s websites and blog posts across GSF, Daybreak House and Hamba Nawe, all their social media accounts, and she picks up her camera to document what happens here. But at the core of it all she is just trying to make sure the story of Daybreak House is told well and that the Foundation runs smoothly behind the scenes so that the people doing the hands-on work can focus on the babies. Her faith shapes everything about how she tells that story. She believes these children have value before they can achieve anything, explain anything or ask for anything, and that conviction shows in the way she writes and photographs. She does not want to use sadness to move people. She wants to tell the truth with respect. Beyond the facts and the needs, she hopes that people who encounter Daybreak House will pause and consider what it means to care for the vulnerable with consistency and humility. For Yolane, faith is not only something you say. It is in the way a child is held, the way donations are handled, the way stories are protected, and the way people keep doing the quiet work.
Naledi — Early Childhood Development
Naledi is our early childhood development program, built on the conviction that what happens in the first years of a child’s life shapes everything that follows. Every baby at Daybreak House is monitored for developmental milestones, and where specialist support is needed, occupational therapists, chiropractors, play therapists, we bring it in. These are the people who lead that work.
Naledi program assistant
Esthie came to Daybreak House before her studies began, spending eight months as a caregiver while waiting to enrol at the University of Pretoria. Those eight months were never meant to be more than a season of waiting. But God had other plans. From the moment she stepped into that space, something stirred in her that she could not ignore. Little children have always been drawn to Esthie, and she to them, in that quiet, instinctive way that cannot be manufactured or taught. There is something about her presence that makes the smallest and most vulnerable feel safe, and the children at Daybreak House respond to her in a way that speaks for itself. What she learned in those eight months as a caregiver, no textbook has ever been able to give her. She learned to read a baby’s cry before it became distress. She learned that consistency is a form of love, and that showing up the same way every single day is one of the most powerful things you can do for a child who has known uncertainty. It was that lived understanding that shaped the direction of everything that followed, and she enrolled at UP to study Foundation Phase Education and Psychology, not because she discovered a passion, but because she needed language and tools for something she had already felt deeply. Today she assists Madel in the Naledi ECD programme, bringing her growing academic knowledge and her hands-on experience of the house to the work in equal measure. Her faith in Jesus is the thread that runs through all of it. She believes that every child who comes through Daybreak House is known and loved by God before they are known by anyone else, and that being present in their earliest days is not just a privilege but a calling. She does not take lightly the fact that she gets to be part of the first chapter of so many small lives. She knows that what happens in those earliest months matters in ways that will echo for a lifetime, and she shows up every day determined to make those echoes good ones.
Head of Naledi ECD Program
Madel has been in education for 22 years, in different forms and different shapes, standing in front of a classroom, working one-on-one with children with special needs, developing milestone boxes for children in townships. But it was becoming a milestone specialist that brought her heart fully home. ECD, she says, is in her blood. Her whole family loves education, and she believes with her whole heart that you change a nation one child at a time. At Daybreak House she leads Naledi, a programme whose name comes from the Sesotho and Setswana word for star, because just as every star is placed in the sky with purpose, every child who comes through their doors is known, seen and deeply loved. Naledi is built on one guiding question: how did God design a child to learn? The answer, she says, is back to basics. They play with a plan. They cherish every child. They remember every name. The programme uses sensory integration, music, hydrotherapy, chiropractic care, play therapy and swimming to nurture each baby in the most holistic way possible, because the first thousand days of a child’s life lay a foundation that shapes how they think, communicate and experience the world for the rest of their lives. Children are like little sponges during those first three years, Madel says, and you have an opportunity to form brain pathways that will influence them forever. Her faith is woven into every part of the work. Psalm 147:4 anchors her: He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name. She loves these babies deeply, but she has learned to place her faith in the One who loves them even more. Every first laugh, every moment a baby begins to crawl, every wobbly first step, these are miracles, she says, sometimes going against every medical report ever written about them. And they get to witness it every single day. And then the biggest miracle of all, when a baby meets their forever family, and two stories become permanently and beautifully joined.
Our Team
Our caregivers, cleaner and gardener at Daybreak House are the quiet backbone of everything we do. They are the ones who arrive early and stay late, who change the hundredth nappy of the week with the same gentleness as the first, who keep the house clean and safe and running so that every baby wakes up in a space that feels like home. Their work is not glamorous and it is rarely celebrated loudly, but it is irreplaceable. Every baby who has ever been rocked to sleep, bathed with care, or simply held during a hard moment at Daybreak House has been held by these hands. We are deeply grateful for each one of them.
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It is from this truth, lived out in the darkest hours of a beloved life, that Daybreak House takes its name and its courage. Every day is a new beginning for the babies in our care, and for the people who show up to love them.
Lamentations 3:23
Our Foundation
The Grové Schoombee Foundation takes its name from a young man who taught those around him how to live, by learning, in the hardest possible way, what truly matters.
Grové Schoombee was the youngest brother of Suliztha van der Walt. In 2020, just a week after his wife announced she was pregnant with their second daughter, Grové was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer. He walked that road for thirteen months before passing away in 2021, leaving behind a wife, two daughters, and a family and friends whose lives he had quietly and permanently changed.
What his family and friends witnessed during those thirteen months was not what anyone might expect. The more the cancer stripped Grové of the things most of us take for granted, driving, holding a phone, the ordinary rhythms of a normal day, the more he grew into someone extraordinary. His faith deepened. His awareness of the people around him sharpened. And he began to share something with everyone who loved him: that once you understand your time here is limited, everything you once held important, the career, the bigger house, the nicer car, falls away. What remains is people. Community. The ones who surround you and love you. Grové became, in his final months, a man far more concerned with everyone around him than with his own suffering.
After his passing, Suliztha sat with her grief and began to make sense of what she had witnessed. She came to a conviction that has shaped everything since, that we are not placed on this earth to work hard and enrich ourselves, but to serve. That God calls us to care for the vulnerable. She approached two of her closest friends, Marli Swanepoel and Alfreda Jonker, both of whom had been through the adoption process and understood intimately the challenges facing vulnerable children in South Africa’s child protection system, and together the three of them founded the Grové Schoombee Foundation in his memory.
Daybreak House for Vulnerable Babies was the Foundation’s first and flagship project. Since then the Foundation has grown, opening a second place of safety, supporting children removed from abusive backgrounds with therapy, school fees and other expenses, and in January 2025 launching Hamba Nawe, a paediatric palliative care initiative supporting families of children with life-limiting and life-threatening conditions.
Grové spoke about the nights, how they were the hardest. When everyone else was asleep, he would lie alone with his pain and his thoughts, wondering what would become of his children after he was gone. But then, just as Scripture promises, weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning, something would shift. Even before the sun had fully risen, in that first quiet moment when the light began to touch the earth, he said he could feel the weight lift. The pain seemed less. Hope returned. Because it was a new day, and he had been given another one.
It is from that truth, lived out in the darkest hours of a beloved life, that Daybreak House takes its name. We see this house as exactly that, a new beginning. A new day. A place where babies who have entered the world under the weight of difficult circumstances are met with fresh hope, steady love, and the promise that this is not the end of their story. It is only the beginning.
We are a Christian organisation and we see what we do not simply as charity work, but as ministry. Our faith shapes everything, the way a baby is held, the way decisions are made, the way people are treated, and the way stories are told.
We believe that every child, regardless of the circumstances of their birth, is made in the image of God and worthy of protection, dignity and love. That conviction is the foundation on which Daybreak House is built.
We do not use our faith to pressure or persuade. We simply try to live it, quietly, consistently, in the daily work of caring for those who cannot yet care for themselves.
Daybreak House is a registered Place of Safety operating under the Children’s Act, a home for babies who have been abandoned, orphaned, or placed in crisis care while their futures are determined.
We provide round-the-clock physical care, emotional nurture, and early childhood development support. We monitor every baby’s developmental milestones and bring in occupational therapists, chiropractors, play therapists and other specialists when needed, because every baby in our care deserves the best possible start at life.
We are not a waiting room. We are a home.
Whether you give your time, your skills or your resources, there is a place for you in the story of Daybreak House.
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