22 replies to this topic

[Stephanie]

Chapter 21

The next day found me a bit anxious, I never did enjoy “visits” from DHR, even though I had worked with many good social workers over the years. I have to admit, once the girls adoptions had been finalized I was glad to be finished with the home inspections. Why were they coming? I kept wondering this all morning.

Hank, who could sense my tension building stepped in and took charge. He assigned each child an inside or outside task that was age appropriate, keeping the youngest ones close with him, told me he was fixing lunch and I was to go and take a Whirlpool bath. I stared at him as if he had sprouted an extra head. My whirlpool had been a dear friend of mine, alas, we were friends no more, it required way too much water and too much gas to heat all that water.

Hank would not take no for an answer and practically pushed me into the bathroom. Finally, he convinced me by saying he had intended for me to do this as a treat for Mother’s Day, but felt like I could really use it today. He was right. I couldn’t stop myself from envisioning the old TV commercial, “Calgon, Take Me Away!”. I giggled and closed my eyes, letting the suds overtake me. For nearly an hour, I soaked and refused to entertain any thoughts that would remind me this was anything other than normal.

I exited the steamy hideaway rather wrinkled from my long soak. I was feeling like a new person. I dressed in nicer than normal clothes to receive my guests and even paused to spray a bit of Hanks favorite cologne, White Shoulders. It was old fashioned, but he loved it and I only used it occasionally. I thought back to the days, before kids when this was the norm. I had been very comfortable in the professional scene at one time in my life. Lately, I felt a little frumpy, I’m not sure that’s a word, but it sounds like a good one.

I didn’t have long to wait, we had just cleared the lunch dishes and everyone was choosing a favorite book to settle down with when Patches announced the arrival of a vehicle on our gravel road. Three people climbed the steps of our front porch and waited for me to give them entrance into the house. There was one young man, looking quite wet behind the ears and two women. I recognized one of them as a Superintendent at our County DHR. Betty Chambers had been with the department long enough to surely be nearing retirement age. She had seen many changes during her tenure, some good, some not so good. We had a good working relationship. The second woman was a stranger to me, and to be honest she looked a bit intimidating.

Betty greeted me with a warm handshake and I invited them to have a seat. Once we were settled she made the introductions. The young man’s name was Rick Robinson, as I suspected he had just joined the department and was ready to fix the world with his idealistic theories. Then she introduced Miriam Delaney, a state level Superintendent with the Department. When Miriam smiled her face softened and I felt a bit more at ease with her.

Miriam spoke first, “We’ve heard many good things about your family.”

I thanked her and she continued, “As I’m sure that you are aware, the situation with children in state custody has become strained, to say the least.”

“We’ve seen the news and heard the reports, the statistics.” I replied.

“Well, things are much worse than the general public knows. We are at the point of desperation. We have tripled our intake numbers and many of the parents are simply disappearing, not even showing an interest in reunification. People are losing hope, quitting before they even begin the process. Children are basically abandoned into our care and we are out of resources for their placement. We are making every effort to contact blood relatives of these children whenever possible. But, even when that is accomplished there are countless policies and procedures that must be addressed before a child can be sent from one state to another.”

As she spoke, my heart hammered a beat of compassion. Families torn apart, children left destitute, the system stretched to the point of breaking. This was a dreadful situation. And why were they telling me all of this information, what did they think I could do about it.

As if Miriam could read my thoughts, she answered my questions. “Tessie, we’re telling you all of this because we are hoping that you could be a part of the solution. We’re hoping that you will participate in two ways. I will let Rick explain the basic premise.”

Rick, eager to have his say, stood as he spoke. This caused me to look “up” to him and I wished he would sit down. With much hand movement and great detail, he explained the proposal.

“You see, what we need is a series of half-way houses for these children. There are many children who need homes of course, but this program is designed to address the problem of where the children stay while they are awaiting transfer to other family, often out of state.”

Now Betty spoke up. “Tessie, we’re here to ask you to consider becoming the first of these homes. You would be our pilot home and then, if successful, which we feel confident would be the case, we would like you to train others to do the same. The homes would have to be approved of course but not go through the lengthy licensing process that normal long term foster parents would go through.”

“I do think this program has merit and I do wish you success with it, but I have seven children of my own now.” I truly regretted to deny their request.

Betty spoke again, “Tessie, we wouldn’t ask such a thing of just anyone. And this would not be normal procedure, but we are not living in normal times at present. These children are not true foster children cases, they are temporarily in the care of the state as we prepare them to go to relatives. We just need a safe house, a place for them to wait to be reunited with family.”

Miriam added, “We’d assist to the best of our ability. The children would have food vouchers, infants would be supplied with diapers, etc. Our hope is to take care of them, keep them safe for a brief time as we attempt to expedite their transfers. The Governor has established a grant. It will basically be a board payment, no one could get rich from it, but for those with a willing heart, it could benefit the host family to some degree.”

Rick now spoke again, this time he stayed seated. “You see, we have a few people to convince that this program will work. We want to start with an established, successful home like your own. If you’d be willing to be the pioneer in a manner of speaking, and make a trail for others to follow.” Now, he had a genuine look of concern as he spoke. Maybe he wasn’t so wet behind the ears after all.

“Pioneer?” I spoke the term barely louder than a whisper. Having been so caught up in what I was being told, I was unaware that Hank had joined us and stood with his arms crossed leaning against the wall, listening intently. I jumped when he spoke out loud and clear.

“I think it’s a great idea. Somebody in the world has got to start caring and plant the seed of compassion.” Hank stepped closer to me and then knelt on one knee, taking my folded hands in his. “Let’s try Tessie, let’s try for the children.”

My lip quivered a bit as I drank deeply from the strength of my husband, gazing into those hazel eyes, looking for reassurance and answers. “Yes”, I agreed, “for the children.” He gathered me in his arms and hugged me hard.

[Stephanie]

Chapter 22

Although Hank’s new adventure would require training, adding more children to the family would not, as we had been already licensed as Foster Parents. It was arranged that we would take twin babies the very next day that were due to be reunited with their grandparents in Washington State as soon as arrangements could be made. Betty Chambers would be our contact, Rick Robinson was the coordinator of the program and would be reporting to Miriam Delaney at the State Level.

When children were brought to us I was to fill out Placement Papers, keeping notes in a provided journal and when the children left, the journals went with them to be copied and given to the waiting family members. Their length of stay could be a couple of days or as long as a couple of months, according to the paperwork process. Rick, who was eager for this to work was a veritable hound dog tracking the paper trail scent and seeing that it was done in a timely manner. I guess youthful energy has its place!

We still had baby beds in the attic from when we were fostering full time. I hadn’t really thought of them or I might have sent them to Market. The weather was mild right now, so we had all been able to move into our own bedrooms. That was a real luxury. Now, Hank and I would share our bedroom with the twin baby boys, Caleb and Corey. They were nine months old and doing remarkably well considering the circumstances.

I had lots of help with the babies, especially my girls, who now wanted to grow up and be babysitters. I won’t say that it wasn’t tiring, babies are exhausting. But, it was worth it. Not only was I able to help these children and their family by opening our home, I was able to add a small amount of money to the budget of the household. I felt sure this was the right thing to do. I couldn’t say that I had been “called” to do this, like my testimony of first entering foster care. But, I did feel like I was responding to a present need in a way that would please my Father.

Our little fellows were only with us 6 days before they were ready to be delivered to the waiting arms of loving grandparents. I was so happy for the family and the babies that I couldn’t be sad when saying good bye. This was different that the fostering I had done in the past. You knew right up front that they children were your guests for a short time, you were simply providing a safe place. It was a good program, I saw much potential in it.

Hank attended training for the last two weeks of the month and became the county’s first A.R.C. His truck now had the promised radio, he had a modified paramedic type of bag for minor emergencies, a binder full of information and the names of 200 families to be contacted. His salary, minimal as it was, was going to help to keep us afloat during these stormy times. In the meantime, he was doing some research in telecommuting as a technical writer. His problem with telecommuting would be the increased draw on electricity, the cost of that and the possibility of returned rationing in that area.

His training for A.R.C. was held at the County Seat and while there he took advantage of visiting the Feed and Grain Co-op several times. As he had planned, he stocked up on the food we would need for our animals, using some of the lump sum payoff from his severance package. On one of the trips he brought home more than a load of hay that was in the back of his trip. He had some good news. The Co-op was getting together a bulk order from one of the food suppliers. They weren’t far from filling up the semi and we were invited to add our own order.

This was a tremendous blessing and would defer some of the enormous shipping and freight charges. I spent the entire evening scanning the catalogs, making lists, keeping in mind that we would have extra children most of the time. I stayed within the amount that Hank had designated and felt with our soon coming garden, that we were in pretty good shape for now.

Stephen worked three afternoons a week with Uncle Solomon and enjoyed his time tremendously. He had always been interested in guns and apparently had a knack with the mechanics involved in repairing them. Jedediah was having great success with the Beehives and contributing to the pantry with the honey they produced. He did not intend to sell any of the honey at this point as we could use it all. In the future he intended to expand his hives and hopefully be able to make some money at it.

We had another infant placed with us for only two days, she was a tiny thing, having been diagnosed with Failure to Thrive. Her great-aunt was only two counties away and she didn’t need to stay long.

Hank had managed to make contact with more than two dozen of the families in his area. So far, there were no serious needs but he was able to give them information on some resources. He reported some road repair that needed done and arranged for one of the local farmers to use his equipment to do so. He also informed the authorities of one elderly couple that appeared to need some medical attention. One of them had fallen and the sores were not healing properly. He was able to get them the help they needed. He enjoyed getting to know the folks and the appreciated having someone close by that they could contact when they needed information.

June was approaching and I pulled out my journals to read and reflect over the year that we had faced in these uncertain times. Our life now seemed a far reach from where it had been only a year ago. We had done some things right and I wished we had done some things differently. We had learned and grown in skills and wisdom. We were now more connected to our neighbors and community. We were healthier, and in better shape physically. Spiritually we had climbed some mountains and been awed by the view it offered. Our family was bonded and united in new ways.

What had made the difference? How had these benefits been the result of a gas shortage, an economic crisis, and other hardships? It wasn’t a “given” result. The news was full of others who had refused to adjust, not taken the precautions, not been wise with their resources. Bankruptcy, unemployment, crime, homelessness, disease, abandonment, foreclosures, and economic disasters were the results of their decisions. Different choices had different results.

I once read the true definition of the word “crisis”. It is literally a turning point, a place where you arrive and then must turn and go a different way. I was thankful for the heritage of a good family who had trained me well in the ways of Purposed Living. I had been taught to live my life on purpose instead of just allowing life to happen. I had been blessed with a husband who did not shy away from hard work, who had a tender heart before God and thought of others before himself. I had been honored to mother these seven children, to foster and provided safe haven for many others. I was standing in amazement at the Grace of God in my life!

What would the next year hold? I couldn’t begin to imagine? Would the Plague return thirsty and more deadly, would our family escape its grip a second year in a row? Would I be able to influence and encourage other families to become safe havens and temporary shelters for the foster children? Would the escalating crime find its ways to our country roads? Would the gas rations continue, would the grid fail us altogether?

I did not know the answer to these questions, but I knew who did and I was thankful to be in His care. I picked up the Bible and stroked the worn leather, I loved the way it felt in my hand and what it represented in my life. I turned to Isaiah 30:21 and read.

Your own ears will hear him.
Right behind you a voice will say,
“This is the way you should go,”
whether to the right or to the left.


Our first year of this new life had been themed “How Then Shall We Live?” As we approached our second year of the journey, I wrote a new theme in the journal… “This is the Way You Should Go!” and I closed the book.

[Stephanie]

Hi all just marking my story complete and I'm working on the sequel now. This is the Way You Should Go. Thanks.