Debbie Verses Goliath

The phone call came at about 4PM on a Thursday in May 1997.  I watched my kids playing downstairs as I heard my foster daughter’s caseworker tell me that her parents had agreed to give Grandma custody of her the next day.  Court was at 10 AM. I was told to pack her clothes. She’d be picked up for transfer right after court.

First, a wave of shock hit. I had already adopted two boys, and this little girl had been in my home for about two years. I had hoped I could adopt her too. Her one -year-old half-brother slept in a crib in their shared room. 

I called my attorney and was told that the courts frowned on attorneys attending these types of proceedings, so she wouldn’t go with me. I was on my own, and as it stood, even I wasn’t invited to attend.

I called my friends and got some prayers going up for wisdom.  I remember thinking, “God, I don’t know what’s going on, but You do. I trust You.” 

The next day my boyfriend (later my husband) came to the courthouse to support me.

I met Grandma who was seeking custody. She wasn’t interested in raising her grandson, so I brought her only photos of her granddaughter.

When Mom arrived, I approached and gave her photos of both children. She seemed nervous.  As I sat on the bench in the hallway the caseworker came around the corner; he looked surprised to see me. I asked him who the legal guardian was for my foster daughter. He pointed her out and when he left, she and I talked.  I told her that I was concerned about splitting up the kids. She only had the one case file and didn’t know about the brother. She agreed that they shouldn’t be separated. Then asked me if I was interested in adoption. I told her yes, I wanted to adopt both if possible. She bluntly told me to speak up in the court room and to tell the judge that.

When I explained that I wasn’t invited to the proceeding and didn’t think I’d even get a chance to talk. She repeated, “You MUST speak up in court.”

Moments later we were all ushered into the court room. I stood on one side of the caseworker and Grandma was on the other.  Mom stood on the other side of the room, as we all faced the judge. The legal guardian was closer and perpendicular to the judge. She had the ability to see everyone from her vantage point.

The judge acknowledged everyone by name except me, but without looking up he did mention that foster mom was here. He then asked for Dad to be brought in. Dad entered with two police escorts, shackled hand and foot. He took his place between Mom and Grandma.  The judge light heartedly quipped, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

I silently prayed while things progressed. The stenographer typed away as information was tossed about. Then Grandma hesitated. She wouldn’t give her address. He asked her a second time.  Grandma said her daughter had stolen from her and didn’t want her to know where she lived. Then Grandma and Mom began yelling. Mom and Dad began to argue. More policemen poured into the room.

The chaos was reminiscent of a comedy show, only the room crackled with hostility. The judge banged his gavel again and again yelling over the crowd, “Order in the court.” Finally, when he could be heard, he said, “I don’t like this stuff in my courtroom, and I don’t have to take it. In fact, I’m not going to tolerate it. Case dismissed. Everybody out!”

As I followed the murmuring crowd into the hallway, there Dad stood alone with his two guards. I asked if I might talk to him. I explained to him who I was and how wonderful his little girl was. I apologized that I had no pictures with me to share. He gave me his name, and I promised to send him some.

Six months later an order to terminate parental rights came through for both kids. This time we, my new husband and I, met Dad at the proceedings. (Mom didn’t show.) The letters and photos I sent helped him to release his little girl into our life-long care. He signed the paperwork with tears in his eyes.

Today both that little girl and her brother bear our last name. The blessing of my children greatly outweighs the challenges of the struggle that day. Even little ol’ me can stand up against the giant of the unknown and through prayer receive the victory!

Foster-care was indeed a rich blessing for me, and it is still a vital need in our community. It’s not an easy path, but there’s so much love. I’d encourage you to pray and investigate this option if you’re looking to expand your family. Thanks for listening.

Blessings,

~Debbie G

#FostercareStory #ChooseAdoption #ChooseToLove