Chris and I shifted in our chairs and turned to look in each other's eyes. We'd never really sat down and had this conversation or put any plan in place, exactly. But the answer was so obvious in our minds, we hardly considered it a question at all.
"Well, we've never actually had the conversation with them but it's pretty much a given that my parents would. They live close to us and are a big part of our lives." Chris put into words what both of us were thinking. "In fact, taking care of our own is so much a part of our culture that if, by some freak coincidence, something were to happen to both us and my parents, there's no question in my mind that our church would step right in and take care of everything."
I nodded quickly. "It's so much a part of our lives, we don't even stop to think about it!"
We were seated at a large table in a quiet room at Guernsey County Children's Services and the question asked was one in a long list as part of the home study required for our foster care license. The lady asking us questions listened quietly as we went on.
"Oh, yes. Our culture is such that we could call someone up in California who we'd never met and say, 'Hey! We're friends of so and so and she said you could maybe give us a place to sleep on such and such night' and they'd say, 'Oh sure! No problem. We'd love to have you!'"
"Not only that," Chris had a sudden thought. "We could probably tell them you were coming to California on business," he pointed to our friend across the table, "And they would likely give you a place to sleep just as readily, because you know us!"
At that point our listener's eyes filled with tears. In a choked voice she said, "You have no idea how many people have not one person they can ask to take care of their children."
"We go into these situations," she went on, "Where someone has called in the authorities. There's a report of drug abuse or safety issues or whatever and our goal is always to not take the children into custody. We ask them - who do you know that could take care of your children? Do you have family members? Who are your kids familiar with that could keep them?"
Wiping her eyes, she continued.
"You would not believe how many of them shrug their shoulders and say, 'Nobody. We don't have anybody.' Or maybe they say, 'Well, there's Grandma Josephine over here.' But it only takes us a few minutes of running some background checks to see that there's no way she's an option."
"What you're describing is just amazing." She shook her head sadly, "Our kids don't have any of that."
I don't have to tell you I had a hard time swallowing around the lump in my throat.
And just where would we be, I asked myself, if we had no one? Not one person we could count on; not a soul we were sure we could fall back on? The thought was so preposterous my mind couldn't even begin to wrap itself around the idea. Would my life look so much better than theirs if I were all alone with no support, no help, not one person who had my back?
I have many days when I desperately don't want to keep pursuing this journey toward foster care. But it's in the solemn moments like the one I've described above that I wonder, how can I not do this? How is this not the very least I can offer? If, in the process, I could somehow be that one person for someone, how can I succumb to my selfish heart and say 'No, this might mess up my life'?
"There is a difference
between being too scared
to do hard things,
and doing hard things scared."
~Shannan Martin
Falling Free