Fostering… again

It all happened really quickly this time.  I mean… quickly in the way that DCF only moves quickly in an emergency situation. 

But I guess it’s really been brewing for months.  

This particular student isn’t technically MY student (which is actually important because of conflict of interest stuff).  But I know her well.  We have a good relationship.  She stops by my room to chat or to procrastinate or to vent, and she’s really something special.  And I know enough about her situation to know it’s not good.  

Over the past months, I’ve talked about her with Jack.  Each time, he holds up his hand as if to say, “Stop right there.”  And he raises his eyebrows and simply says, “No.” And every time, I’ve agreed with him.  “You’re right.  You’re right.  I know you’re right.” He smiles and hugs me and tells me I don’t have to save everyone.  

And so I wait.  I wait for someone else to step up.  For something to change. For DCF to find a new placement. I pray for this young woman and for her family.  And I listen to her vent and I help her with her homework and I dispense after-school advice to her and her friends.  Until…

*****

Wednesday

First period, she came to my classroom, clearly upset.  She started telling me a little about the situation.  She felt sad.  She felt scared.  She was going to move in two days and miss the last week of school.  I reassured her.  I listened.  She needed a hug, and despite all of the stupid school rules, I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed.  

When she left, I emailed the social worker.  She’s someone I know fairly well; she was in my home once a month for the five years that Bea was with us.  In my email, I said I hadn’t talked to my family and I wasn’t ready to make any commitments … but I wanted to know if this amazing young woman was going to a safe, stable placement. 

 The answer was no. 

And I realized I couldn’t wait anymore.  I hid in the principal’s office while she was out to lunch, because I needed a private place to call my husband.  I told him the situation.  “Can we just do a week?  Let her finish out the school year?” And without hesitation, he replied, “OF COURSE we can do a week.  Of course.”  Pause.  “But you know it’s not going to be a week, right?” I took a deep breath.  He was right.  Of course, I’d thought about that, too.  What would happen after a week?  Once school was over?  How much would change in the next 7 days?  And my amazing husband interrupted my thoughts with, “Just take her. We’ll figure it out.  Just take her.”  I started to cry.  

I thanked God for sending me this deeply GOOD man to be my partner and my rock and my strength.  Together, we talked to the kids, who were also incredible.  Cal’s response was, “As long as I get to keep my bedroom, then it’s fine with me.” Lee said, “I think it’s a good idea. Honestly, mom, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. I kinda figured this was gonna be a thing we just DO now. ”  And a few hours later, when I checked in again he told me, “Actually, I’m excited.  The house has felt a little empty since Bea left.  I think it’ll be good.” 

So, that afternoon, I re-submitted our DCF paperwork.  It was a pretty quick process, because mostly we were just updating a few dates.  I made an appointment to meet with the social worker the next day.  

*****

Thursday

I was eager to talk to this young woman about what was going on, but the department advised me to wait.  I knew they were right; the thing about child placement is that it can literally change at any minute.  A distant relative could be located.  A cousin could step up.  Our application could be delayed or denied for some random, arbitrary detail or missing piece of information.  I wanted to give her some time to process; I wanted to be able to answer her questions and calm her fears.  But I didn’t want to set her up for disappointment if it wasn’t yet official. 

So we went through the school day, and she began to say her goodbyes. She asked me to sign her yearbook and told all her friends that tomorrow would be her last day.  She’d made a lot of great connections with adults in the building.  She asked a lot of us if we could be friends on Facebook, and when we inevitably said no, she gave us all her personal email address so we could stay in touch.  The whole time, I was praying that all of these goodbyes would be a moot point by the end of the day.  

After school, the social worker visited.  We asked about each other’s families and marveled at how much the kids have grown.  She asked about Bea and we gave her the update.  We went through the formalities.  She took out her tape measure and noted the dimensions of the bedroom.  She tested our smoke detectors and asked where we keep our medications.  She gave us a brief outline of the family history and told us that we should be approved as an emergency placement by the end of the day.  The visit ended at 4pm. 

By 5 o’clock, we had official confirmation.  But this young lady still didn’t know.  She was out with friends.  She should be home by 8, and the social worker planned to tell her then.  In less than 12 hours, she would leave her current home and she still didn’t even know where she’d be going. 

At 8:15, the social worker texted me.  “She’s been told. She has your number, and she’s going to reach out.”  

And about two minutes later, I got a text that just said, “Hi.”

After a few quick texts, I called her.  She was in shock and still processing.  We talked a little and I told her the way it all played out from my point of view.  I told her we’re excited to have her.  I told her to try to get some sleep. 

I was awake all night. 

*****

Friday

In the morning, her foster mother and the guidance counselor loaded her belongings into my minivan.  She would leave with me in the afternoon.  

We hadn’t seen each other since this decision was made.  I caught her eye in the hallway, but there were students everywhere.  It was not the right time to chat.  We both kept moving in opposite directions.  

During first period, she was in French class.  She got a pass to go to guidance, and we finally connected.  I asked her if she was okay.  She said yes.  I ask her if she was anxious.  She said no.  I asked her, “On a scale of 1-10, how weird is it that you’ll be living with a teacher?”  She smiled, shrugged, and said, “Like a 2.  Well, if it were Mr. Kensey or something it’d be like a 20.  But it’s you.  So… yeah.  Two.”  I laughed out loud.  

We were a little awkward with each other during the day, but in a sweet, playful sort of way.  We were both a little nervous. We were both hoping for the best. 

When the final bell rang, she appeared at my classroom door.  We chatted while I cleaned up my room and packed a few things.  We waited for the hallways to clear out, and then we went to gather a few of her things from the guidance office.  The teachers had started a little collection for her.  There was a gift basket with gift cards to Target and Home Goods, a few small trinkets, and a book of well-wishes. 

This kid is so loved.  I hope she felt it.  

Before we even went home, we went shopping.  We got throw pillows and soft bedding and a bunch of toiletries. We bought a couple of new outfits and some new socks.  She lit up when I said she could buy LED lights for her bedroom.  She was grateful and enthusiastic and adorable.  

*****

That first weekend, I barely recognized her.  She was quiet and timid and supremely agreeable; a far cry from the sassy, outgoing, outspoken student I had come to know.   She was still getting her footing.  She took photos of her new room to send to her friends and family.  The little dog slept at the foot of her bed. We binge watched Stranger Things and made some of her favorite foods and just got to know one another.  

*****

It’s been ten days now.  She’s settling in.  

Last night, I was reading in my bedroom.  She and Lee and two dogs were sprawled across the carpet, making jokes and outrageous requests and belly laughing.  

This weekend, she jumped right in on family game night and joined me for grocery shopping and she and Lee are already plotting to convince us to get a new pet.  

I know we’re in a honeymoon period.  No parenting is easy, and foster parenting has so many complicated layers.  Maybe that’s the reason WHY these beautiful, easy moments feel so incredibly special.  

We’ve got the whole summer ahead of us.  We’ve got time to get to know each other, to establish routines, to have adventures.  I’ve got the next few months to spend quality time with Lee before he gets his license and takes that next step toward independence and adulthood. 

I’ve got the next few months to connect with these kids.

To make memories. 

To make mistakes. 

To learn lessons. 

I’m not going to pray and wait for it to get easier.  I’m not going to leave the work to someone else.  My life is always more bold and more beautiful when I say yes to the hard things.  When I get in there and get my hands dirty and let my heart get a little bruised. Bring it on.