In August, I underwent a 40-hour training to become a guardian ad litem or a “CASA” (court-appointed special advocate) for children in the foster care system. I was surprised to learn how many kids in our little town have been removed from their parents’ homes for abuse and/or neglect and was heartbroken to hear of the circumstances that led to their removal. After the first night of training, I got into the car and sobbed all the way home. I walked in the door, ignored Brent, and made a beeline for Stuart’s bedroom, where I buried my face in his sleeping body. He smelled like fruity shampoo and minty toothpaste. Then I went into my girls’ bedroom, scaring them as I hurriedly climbed up onto each of their loft beds to hug them and tell them that I loved them.
While struggling to take in these terrible stories, I was also humbled to find out that there are more than fifty volunteers in our little town who are trying to make these kids’ lives better. They visit their kids every month (often more!), arrange for medical and sometimes dental care, contact school teachers, and advocate for their kids in court because the people who are supposed to do that either don’t or can’t for a whole slew of complicated and sad reasons.
I grew up in Texas where kids often jubilantly sing, “He’s got the whole world in his hands!,” but can’t help but feel that these kids have slipped right through God’s fingers. Why are these kids in these situations while I had a charmed childhood and am raising children who have similarly charmed lives (minus the episodes where I lose my temper and yell at them to turn off the TV and pick their dirty laundry up off the floor)? At church I learn that we are God’s hands. So maybe all those CASA volunteers are God’s hands . . . but they (we) seem to be coming in too little too late-trying to clean up messes after the damage has been done.
I keep asking myself whether I can actually do this. Can I confront these kids who are wise to the world well beyond their age? Can I look them in the eye and see glimpses of their pain without looking away, without retreating to my cozy, middle-class, Disneyland life?
I met my two CASA kids last week. They are resilient. They are funny. One of them asked whether I could please bring my swimsuit next time I visit so I can swim with them. I told her I’d have to think that one over. I don’t know whether I can actually help them, but I’m going to try to follow in the other volunteers’ footsteps and do what I can to fill in the cracks these kids have slipped through. Their safety nets are full of holes, and I guess it’s up to us-the teachers and counselors and first responders and neighbors and CPS case workers and volunteers for CASA, soup kitchens, and women’s shelters-to patch the holes because God seems to be looking the other way right now.
The kind of God I want to believe in wouldn’t wait for us to step in after the fact like this. S/he would hold up a big staff and rain down misery on these kids’ parents.
Or better yet, s/he would step in before it got ugly and help these kids’ parents get off drugs, get an education/job training, find a job and a decent place to live, and whisper in their ears how to love their kids in case they didn’t already know-just like s/he sometimes does for me when I need reminding. God would actually hold them in his/her hands until they were ready to act on their own.
But that doesn’t seem to be in the stars for them, so for right now, I’ll keep shaking my fist at God and asking what s/he’s up to. And then I’ll swallow hard and do my tiny part.
Thank you for being a guardian ad litem. That’s awesome. I hesitate to comment, because I have not seen what you have. I feel somewhat like you do, though. Often times, when I hear of the horrors of someone else’s griefs, I think, how close am I? How did I escape? I’m intrigued by the image of the openings between God’s fingers. So, if you and I are solidly held in His palm, maybe you are moving out to the edge of that palm, and beyond, making yourself into a bridge between 2 fingers, making a sort of safety net there . . . I’ve often heard we are to be “His Hands”…
I have also heard that we are God’s hands. That just doesn’t feel good enough to me right now. That saying/belief rings hollow for me.
Beautiful…I sometimes cringe when I hear people proclaim how they know God is there because they are so blessed or some miracle occured in their lives in answer to a prayer. I want to ask them, “What about those people who DID die of cancer or who aren’t so blessed?” I signed up last fall to be a CASA too…I was so moved when I heard a presentation about what they do at a fundraisre dinner. I feel like a failure because I ended up having to drop out because I was having a really hard time finding someone to watch my baby. grrrrr….when she turns 5, I’m in again! I look forward to hearing more about your experiences.
Ashley, my kids are older. I have thought about doing this for almost 3 years, but didn’t until now because I felt like things were too hectic with my own family. Brent was working in another state and not living with us Monday-Thursday, we had just moved, so the kids were going through a big transition.
But I felt like all of us are in a better place not. We all sat down and talked about it as a family. I told the kids what I would have to do and what it was for and told them I felt like we all had to be okay with it because it would be a team effort and sometimes, a team sacrifice. Marin chimed in right away and said, “Mom, that sounds like something you would be really good at ’cause you really care about kids.” She’s a sweet thing, that one.
So yeah–give it another shot when your kids are older!
I wish I could remember the exact quote – I want to say it was by Rabbi Kushner, but couldn’t find it… it goes something like this: “Hold up your hand in front of your face. You are looking at the hand of God.”
At some point, we have to look at the reality of what it means to be human. That we hold the power to be both loving and powerful and make a difference (thank God for people like you and other CASA workers) and also inherently evil and create great destruction.
I think we put a lot on the idea of God/Satan that should be placed on humanity instead. If we fully realize this, it makes it easier to shift that investment of energy off of God and into something we can do to make a difference.
Yes, Laurie–we give so much power to the idea of God and Satan. It seems like a way to absolve ourselves of responsibility when bad things happen. And to feel smug and “righteous” when good things happen to us because that somehow *proves* that God loved us and was therefore blessing us.
In law school I worked in the legal clinic and served a similar role representing a young girl in her attempt to obtain victim’s compensation from the state fund for an abuse crime committed against her. I remember having similar feelings as I saw her deplorable living conditions and as I wondered about her prospects for living a “normal” life, and how unworthy I was in my fortunate place in this world. My stint in this role was more limited than yours, and I admire your spiritual fortitude undertaking this endeavor long term.
Laurie’s comment reminds me of a J Golden Kimball story. A young man refused a mission call because he’d have to abandon his newly started business enterprise. J Golden promised him that the Lord would bless him if he served, that his business would wait till his return and thereafter prosper beyond the young man’s expectations. Three years later the young man knocks on J Golden’s door and reports that he finished his mission honorably, returned home, and his business was failing and his donkey–a key to his livelihood–just died. J Golden took the young man back to the Kimball stable and gave him one of J Golden’s own mules and said, “if the Lord won’t keep his promises, why I guess I’ll have to.”
For me, all the standard explanations fall short (e.g. our agency is so important God let’s us to do horrible things to each other, this life doesn’t really matter because it’s just a blip between two eternities, our lot in life is a direct result of how valient they were in the spirit world, etc. etc.). Thanks putting these thoughts down on paper (so to speak). I don’t have any answers–just a growing conviction that each of us needs to do something, however small, however local, to make the world a more fair, more just, and more welcoming place for others. I need to follow your example. Great post.
I really like how you’ve put this, Heather. It’s very difficult to believe in an interventionist God when there’s so much evil, particularly directed at the most helpless people. I admire you for doing this. Good work!
Heather, I read a piece today about a creative writing program for high school girls in L.A. and it made me think of this post and the important work you are doing. http://therumpus.net/2011/09/dear-sugar-the-rumpus-advice-column-84-the-distance-of-the-leap/
From the piece:
Lovely piece, Heather. Thank you for the work you do as a CASA.
Another lifetime ago I worked in child welfare, in Utah. It really, reallllly messed me up. All these bishops and such sexually abusing their kids. On and on.
It took me a very long time to shake the feeling that at any moment my own dad or husband might actually molest my girls. It was awful.
There is survivor’s guilt. I know better how to care for myself now than I did 20+ years ago, but it’s hard when you see all the garbage.
Elizabeth, I had a similar experience when I worked in a clinic that treated both victims and abusers (in Utah). I was young and new to Utah- how could MEMBERS, much less PRIESTHOOD LEADERS, have done these things? Shocking and unsettling. But I’m glad it helped me realize that people are people and being a Mormon doesn’t make you a good person.
You wrote something that I constantly feel, “Can I look them in the eye and see glimpses of their pain without looking away, without retreating to my cozy, middle-class, Disneyland life?” I want to shout it from the rooftops!
My husband and I have been foster parents and I can never go back to a cozy, middle-class, Disneyland life. I will do all I can to make my suburban neighbors uncomfortable by talking about my foster kids; reminding them that complaining about soccer practice and dance lessons is a weak argument against helping those in need. Not that I’m scolding anyone, but we all need to get out of our comfort zones because staying there we don’t see the great need of our brothers and sisters. We can become distracted by things that don’t matter and spend our lives, our time and money on things that are not truly important.
We’ve just moved to a new state and several things prevent us from immediately getting back in to fostering, but it tugs at me every day. I’m looking into becoming a CASA because the time commitment is more manageable. CASAs do make a large difference in a child’s case!
With our first group of foster children (a sibling group) I felt so horrid for what they had been through that I was very reserved at first. It surprised me that they didn’t dwell on what happened to them, they moved on and stretched to grasp fun, safety, and comfort. What happened to them was in the past. To view them always as ‘the abused child’ is to make them a permanent victim by seeing only their past, and what someone did to them. Instead, be grateful that they survived, were rescued, and want to continue living. The majority of them do it wonderfully! That is where I see the hand of God.
Wow, Jen. I’m so glad you commented. How many different kids have you fostered?
I hope nothing I wrote in my post made it seem like I was viewing them as “the abused child.” I certainly hope that they can continue surviving and thriving.
Jen…
I love what you said about getting out of our comfort zones and waking up to the realities around us – it really helps to put things in perspective.
Oddly, I think that your God and my god are very much the same.
Heather- We fostered a sibling group of 4 in an emergency situation for 5 days, an 18 month old for 6 months, and a 9 year old for a month, and a day or two of respite care here and there. All in all it was about a year and then we moved unexpectedly.
I don’t think anyone intentionally views foster children in a negative light. It’s that we see life through our own paradigms, where abuse and the horrid things that happen to foster children aren’t even conceived of. (I know of things that have happened to children that are so horrid I wish I could wipe them from my memory.) Once we know what has happened to them, we don’t know how we would survive it so we don’t know how they can. We almost expect bad behaviors, failure, and destruction from them because we think abuse is incompatible with growth and happiness. That’s what I mean about seeing God in it. Because inexplicably there is the possibility of growth and happiness in a child’s life after abuse! There is no answer to how miraculously that happens than God.
Children do heal. Children can go on to lead beautiful lives full of happiness, positive relationships, and security; if we – acting as God’s hands because we are his disciples – stand up and do something. Like you are by being a CASA.
Their parents were once children too, they are still God’s children. I can’t write them off as devils any more than I could a foster child with bad behaviors as a result of their abuse. Many children are in foster care because their family problems are generational, that’s why no aunts, grandmas, or other extended family members can be resources, they’re just as messed up as the parents, possibly more. Children are abused, who then abuse if not helped. The answer is to help everyone in the family. There is no one size fits all answer, it has to be individuals caring about individuals.
If they can survive it, you can know it and be their voice in court. You will make a difference, everyone who is a part of their team, in good faith, will.
I appreciate your kind perspective of the parents – it takes a very open mind to see their suffering within these situations as well.
I commend you for training to be a CASA. I commend you for trying to be part of the solution. Life for these kids is horrific. I’ve done my own share of fist shaking at God and our system. There is nothing worse than singing “I am a Child of God” sitting next to a foster child. Think about the words…parents kind and dear…it is what first opened up my eyes that all is NOT well. Please tread carefully on your journey as CASA. I’ve enjoyed reading your blog.