one less

Raw and reeling.

It's something we've always dreaded, but we have never had happen. Until now.

B's gone.  They took her, just like that.  It wasn't what we wanted, anything we had asked for and nothing we were prepared for, but it happened.  Our heads are still spinning and our hearts are aching.  

Some incident on behalf of B and J's family of origin prompted a phone call that changed the course of this journey completely.  Rather than return home to their mom in just a week, all 6 of the children (we had 2 of the siblings) were now going into the foster care system; the very thing that we were trying to prevent by taking them in and giving them a safe place while health was restored back in their home.  But health was not restored, and the call stated that B and J would need to be moved into foster care, THAT VERY DAY.

I was sure that the CPS worker only needed some information to understand, so I informed her that we were, in fact, also a foster family and would be willing to keep the children with us for a time being while court proceedings commenced and a course of action was determined.  The children were safe, protected, healthy, loved and quite secure in our home and there was no reason to interrupt that immediately.  However she did not agree because, she stated, "that is not how the system works".  She insisted that, for legal compliance, they needed to be placed in a long term foster home before the day was done.

All our explaining, arguing, reasoning, begging and pleading could do nothing to change the course for these little ones who had been a part of our family for 9 weeks.  We had no power or authority.  But we had tears, we had feelings, we had emotions, we had objections, we had opinions.  In the 9 weeks we had been family, a deep love for them formed and grew.  And love protects.

But our hands were tied and we couldn't protect, though fight it we did.

When we got the next phone call to confirm the plan I was told, "We found a home for B, but not J, so we're keeping him with you long term.  I'll be there in a half hour."  I was so upset I handed the phone to Jim while choking back tears and muttering, "Taking B, half hour..."

In that time, I carried 4 yr. old B around on my hip like a baby, speaking all the truths into her little ears that I wanted to her to remember as we packed her bags.

"We love you so much, B, I am so sorry this is happening.  This is not what we want.  Though we can't go with you, God will be with you wherever you go and He loves you even more than we do.. He made you in a wonderful way, with incredible purpose, B... He made you smart and happy and energetic and helpful and silly and fun... you have so much to give to this world... Remember you can always talk to God and tell Him if you're scared or sad... He cares so much for you and He listens when you talk to Him..."  She was silent with her head resting on my shoulder.  I couldn't even bear the thought of what was swirling around in that little head of hers.  I desperately wanted her to understand this crude plan was NOT our choice.  We would never choose to have her yanked suddenly from her place of security, safety and love.  That is not what love does.

But, it was obvious when the social worker arrived, that love was not a part of the equation.  There was a job to get done and a weekend to begin.  She was not interested in all the wonderful things we had to share about this little girl she was transplanting, and did not seem affected by all the intense emotions that surrounded her; she wanted papers signed and bags transferred to her vehicle.  "I'm sorry, it's just the way it has to be," she kept saying.

Chaos abounded in those moments.  The other kids were falling apart.  Tender hearted Ky was sobbing inconsolably, but had the sense about her to wake up the sleeping brother to say good bye to his sister.  We loved, we hugged, we prayed.  We were desperate and felt so helpless, so weak.  This was so senseless, so cruel.

I had played the role of "mommy" in her life for 9 weeks and couldn't tell her where she was going or explain why she had to go.  I couldn't promise she would be OK, because I didn't know, and certainly this was hurting our confused little girl deep within.  After telling her repeatedly that we loved her and would protect her from harm, I now had no power to protect her any longer.  Instead, I was forced to witness this little one I loved experience a heart breaking, gut wrenching act.

"Can you come with me?"  She asked when I buckled her in, covering her in hugs and kisses.  

"I go home too?"  J was asking from within the protection of Jim's arms.  He had to be equally confused about all that was transpiring.  Why was she leaving?  Why was he not going with?

"Be strong for her, Tee," Jim prompted with tears streaming down his cheeks, "she needs you to be strong."  I felt anything but.

We all said good bye and wrapped her in love and hugs before she was taken away into the great unknown.  She wasn't being placed with siblings, as had been promised.  She was all alone.

Our hearts just couldn't bear it.  We felt broken, sickened, confused, angered; our hearts were raw, sore and painfully exposed.  We gathered the remaining 6 children and held onto each other tightly.  We cried and we hurt together as a family, with one less.

If we didn't hurt so bad,

then we didn't do it right.

- Jennie Allen

(thanks for the quote, Joy!)