This post needs to be different. Usually it's more of a story-telling. With story-telling I can enhance, leave out, or gloss over things; it's easier to use humor when it's just a story, easier to tug on heartstrings. I don't want to tug on heartstrings - I want to give a nuts and bolts perspective; and there really is no humor in this telling.
On the afternoon of December 15 a woman knocked on our door. She identified herself as a case worker for the Department of Public Welfare, and showed me her badge. She said that she had come to investigate a report of child abuse within our home. My heart dropped and my mind began spinning. What had I possibly done or said in public that someone could have misconstrued as abuse? Where had we been lately? Which of the kids had been under discipline? Had anyone sustained any injuries that had left suspicious marks? I thought all of this as she was asking, "May I please come in?"
I answered, "No." Most of the kids were home from school. I didn't know what this was about. This woman had no right to come into our home.
I asked who had made the report. She told me that that was confidential information. I asked her which child this was regarding, and when she told me I asked some follow up questions: Had the report been made by the child? No. Had the report been made by the child's school? No. And that was all she would tell me.
I then began to explain an altercation that had occurred over the weekend involving this child; an instance in which this child had become aggressive toward me. The case worker began to look over her notes and looked at me with a puzzled expression. This was not the incident that had been reported. She began to describe an event that had happened ten months previously; a situation that had precipitated allegations from the school and an investigation which was proven "unfounded." She asked me to recall the situation anyway, which I did while interjecting every sentence or so, "but this has already been investigated and we've been cleared." She stated several times that she didn't know anything about that.
About this time, Stan came home from picking up one of the older kids. They both saw me in a state of near hysteria, and I asked Stan to please speak to the case worker so I could go inside to check on the kids. Already crying and upset, I tried to calmly explain to them that the lady outside had come to make sure that all of our kids were safe and that she would be talking to each of them individually and that they should answer her questions honestly. This was especially hard to explain to our sons who had already been removed from unsafe situations; it broke my heart to have to put into their thinking that our house could potentially also be unsafe.
Starting with the oldest and working our way down, the case worker questioned each child. Most of them weren't phased. However, one of the boys became indignant. As the case worker was leaving he said, "I have a question. Why are you here?" To which she answered, "It's my job to make sure everyone is safe." He replied, "No, why are you HERE." He wanted to know why she had to come to a home, a family, that he - all the kids - knew was safe. She had no answer.
I asked what we should expect to happen next as this was the first time we were being investigated by DPW and not Children and Youth Services. She said that she had thirty days to complete the investigation and that we would be notified of the outcome by mail. I asked what else might happen. Within the hearing of all of our children she said, "Well, we could come and remove your foster children."
We could lose our children. We could lose our foster care license. We could lose the opportunity to continue to care for hurting kids.
I am embarrassed to try to portray just how distraught I was. I was sobbing, I was gasping, I was moaning, I couldn't get off the sofa. And the lady was still there and my kids were all watching. I just didn't know how to function and live under the threats that had been explained.
The next day I contacted our church leaders to let them know, and to have Stan and me replaced in our roles as basketball coach and children's teacher. The immediate response from the church was: We believe in you, we support you, we love you, we are praying for and with you.
As I reached out to certain groups of friends, the response was the same. I am again embarrassed to say that I was just a little taken by surprise. After all, we'd been investigated at least five times before, weren't people going to get suspicious? How could they really know what goes on in our home?
And those were the fears that dominated my thinking for several weeks. Why were we being investigated again for the same situation? Were there unanswered questions? Had someone "found" something that could prove us guilty this time? How many times would we be called on allegations before someone just got tired of it and figured we must be guilty? How thick was our file? Did someone keep track of how often we were investigated? Was someone watching my kids wherever they went? It sounds like I was paranoid; I probably was, a little bit.
I counted out the business days from December 15. I allowed for every possible holiday and weekend. I landed on February 4. I accounted for processing and mail delivery. And I waited.
In mid-February we had not heard anything and I began to leave voicemail and email messages for the case worker who had been to our home. Not one message was answered. I felt somewhat more at ease that we were not going to lose our kids or our certification. Now it just became a matter of dignity. Who was this woman to put our life on hold? Didn't she understand the cloud of uncertainty and embarrassment I was living under?
I prayed. I prayed hard and waited to hear something, anything. I prayed alone, I prayed with friends, I prayed and cried, I prayed without words. What was God saying, teaching? Why wasn't he answering? Was I supposed to stop pestering DPW for an answer? How long? If not that, then what was I supposed to do? Nothing?
Among other things, I remember clearly realizing how truly blessed we are to have our seven children. How amazing it is to give birth and how doubly amazing it is to experience adoption. I was able to focus on our kids, to see them and appreciate them as they've been created. I was able to take some time to learn and understand some new ideas about adoption and trauma. I believe God used this waiting time to prepare me for... well, for whatever was to come.
That brings me to today, March 10. Today I actually spoke with the case worker. She didn't acknowledge having received my many messages, she didn't apologize for - or even try to explain - the length of time it had taken to complete the report. She simply stated that she was holding in her hands right then our completed investigation which she would be "putting in the mail today." I thanked her, wait, no, I really did, I thanked her. And I almost hung up, but then quickly asked, "Can you please tell me the results of the investigation?" "It's unfounded."
A weight lifted just then. The cloud dissipated. I was excited at the thought of having our home be open again. I could hardly wait to send a message to our agency, "Please consider us for placements, we are cleared!"
God is faithful. I knew this all along. People reminded me of that for the past three months. I had been reading it for myself in the Old Testament prophets to replay those accounts. Real life accounts, not just stories.
And so now our life continues. Maybe sometimes it's just a story, maybe sometimes it's not.
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