Living the Significant Life (24 page)

Todd Hurley sat at the dinner table with his brother’s family. As he helped himself to more potatoes, he turned to his sister-in-law.

“Jen, I thought I saw you at the courthouse today,” he said. “You’re not in legal trouble, are you? I might be Bill’s little brother, but I’m also a really great lawyer.”

“No, I’m fine,” Jennifer replied with a laugh. “My women’s group at church runs the children’s waiting room up in family court, and I’ve just started volunteering there.”

“What’s the children’s waiting room?” nine-year-old Molly asked.

“It’s a place for kids to wait when they have to come to court,” Jennifer said. “It gives them a place to hang out and play.”

“What did they do to get in trouble and have to go to court?” asked Grant, who was eleven.

“These kids aren’t in trouble,” Todd said. “They’re in court for different reasons. Sometimes they’ve been hurt by their parents or someone else and the kids have to tell the judge what happened. Some of them don’t have a family anymore and the court has to find a place for them to live. The judges are really busy, so sometimes they have to wait a long time, and it’s pretty boring. Sometimes the judge wants them to leave the courtroom while he talks to other people about their case, and the waiting room gives them a safe place to go.”

“It’s nice,” Jennifer added. “There are toys and books and people like me to read or play with them. Coming to court can be scary for them, so we try to take their minds off that.”

After the children had left the table, Bill, Jennifer, and Todd lingered over coffee. Jennifer brought up the waiting room again.

“My heart goes out to those kids,” she said. “Some of them seem so sad, and you really wonder what they’ve been through in their short lives.”

“I know what you mean,” Todd said. “I’ve spent some time in family court. It’s amazing how some parents would go to the ends of the earth to take care of their kids but others neglect or even abuse them.”

“There was a little girl who spent nearly two hours with us today,” Jennifer said. “Her name was Emily and she was adorable, but she had such sad eyes. She was playing a board game with me when her social worker came in and introduced her to her new foster parents. I felt so sorry for her, going off to live with strangers. I can’t imagine what that would be like. She didn’t seem to be much younger than Grant.”

A few days later, Jennifer saw Emily’s social worker in the courthouse hallway. She introduced herself and said, “I was wondering how Emily is doing.”

“Who?”

“The little girl you were with the other day. Long dark hair, big brown eyes, about eight years old. You were setting her up with a new foster family.”

“Oh, right, I think I remember her. My caseload is pretty big. I’m sure she’s fine, though. Nice meeting you.”

Two weeks later, Jennifer had just unlocked the door to the waiting room when Emily entered, flanked by her foster mother and a woman Jennifer didn’t recognize. The woman introduced herself as Emily’s social worker. “We’re here to have the judge review Emily’s placement, so we’ll just leave her with you until he’s ready for her,” she said.

After they left, Jennifer said to Emily, “I thought Ms. Henry was your social worker. The one who was with you the last time you were here.”

“I’ve had a lot of social workers,” Emily said simply. “A lot of lawyers, too. I can’t even remember their names most of the time.”

Jennifer didn’t see Emily again for nearly two months, but she thought about her occasionally and wondered how things were working out for her. She mentioned the little girl to one of her fellow volunteers during a slow day in the children’s waiting room.

“Oh, I know Emily,” the woman replied. “She was in here a few days ago. She was in court to get placed with a new foster family.”

“A new family? What happened to the old one?”

“I don’t know,” she said as she moved to the other side of the room to rearrange a toy shelf.

Jennifer mentioned the conversation to Todd the next time he was at their house for dinner. “Why would she be moved to a new foster home so quickly? She barely had time to adjust to the last one.”

“It happens,” Todd said with a shrug. “Sometimes the family moves. Sometimes the parents realize that having a foster child just isn’t for them. Sometimes there are conflicts if there are other children in the home. It’s a shame, but it happens more than you’d like to think.”

“That’s awful,” Jennifer said. “I’ve been working in the waiting room less than three months, and in that time, that little girl has had at least two social workers and two foster families that I know of, and who knows how many lawyers have handled her case? How is she supposed to have any stability?”

“You seem pretty passionate about this,” Todd said.

“I am. It seems so unfair for her to get shuffled around like that.”

“Are you interested enough to help her? Or another child like her?”

“Sure, I’d like to, but I don’t know what I could do.”

Todd told her about a program called Speak Up for a Child that he’d recently learned about at a seminar. The program matched volunteers with children like Emily who were involved in the court system. The volunteer followed the child’s case through to the end (when he or she turned eighteen and left the foster or group home system), serving as an advocate to look out for the child’s best interests throughout the process. The volunteer attended the child’s court hearings, provided another set of eyes and ears to ensure that foster placements were working, and tried to become a stabilizing presence in the child’s life.

“Do you think you’d have time to do something like that?” Todd asked. “It’s not as time-consuming as it sounds. If you’re interested, I could get you set up.”

Within a few weeks, Jennifer had been accepted as a volunteer, and her request to be assigned to Emily’s case had been approved. Her heart broke as she read through the file she’d been given.

Emily’s parents had divorced when she was only three years old, and she had never seen her father again. She’d been removed from her mother’s home when she was five because her stepfather was physically abusive to her. She couldn’t be returned because the stepfather was still living in the home, so she had been bounced around the foster care system for the past three years. Her mother had visitation rights but often did not show up for scheduled visits. No wonder Emily smiled so rarely.

Jennifer’s first visit to Emily’s current foster home was awkward. The foster mother seemed defensive, resenting the fact that yet another person had been sent to judge her fitness as a parent despite Jennifer’s explanation of her role in the little girl’s life. Emily was polite but, like her foster mother, seemed a little mistrustful. Telling Bill about the visit later that night, Jennifer said, “To tell you the truth, it hurt my feelings a little bit. I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, given everything you said Emily has been through, I’m not surprised she didn’t jump into your arms,” Bill replied. “She’s got plenty of reasons to doubt people’s good intentions. You probably just need to hang in there and give her some time.”

During the next few months, Jennifer committed herself to chipping away at the little girl’s reserve. She invited her over for dinner several times, but Emily always seemed uncomfortable and barely spoke to the other family members. Jennifer attended all of her court hearings and issued thorough reports on her observations of Emily and her foster home. She picked Emily up at school every Wednesday, took her to the library or a nearby park, and helped with her homework before returning her to her foster home. She thought she was making progress, but it was slow.

Nearly eight months after meeting Emily for the first time, Jennifer arrived home to find a message from the little girl’s social worker on her answering machine. “I’m sorry this is last-minute, but we’ve got a court hearing for Emily tomorrow morning. Something has come up, and Judge Walker agreed to put us on her docket. Try to be there at ten, but if you’re busy I can explain it to the judge since you didn’t have much notice. Thanks. Bye.”

Jennifer had trouble finding a parking spot the next morning, so she rushed into the courtroom just as the judge was calling Emily’s case. “I guess I’ll find out what’s going on soon enough,” she thought as she took a seat.

A young attorney stood up to speak. “Your Honor, we’re here today to make a change in Emily’s placement. Her current foster family is no longer able to keep her, so we need to find a new placement for her.”

Jennifer looked up in alarm. Emily dropped her head slightly and looked down at the table in front of her.

“What’s your recommendation?” Judge Walker asked without looking up.

“We recommend that she be placed in a group home, at least temporarily, until we can reevaluate her case.”

“You can’t do that!” Jennifer was amazed to find that those words had come out of her mouth.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” the judge asked.

“Jennifer Hurley. I’m Emily’s volunteer advocate. I’ve been working with her for months, and you can’t just ship her off to a group home. That’s just not right.” Jennifer knew she should apologize for her outburst and sit down, but she couldn’t do it. She had to stand up for Emily, who had turned around and was staring at her with wide eyes.

“Ms. Hurley, I’m sorry, but you don’t have a say in this,” Judge Walker said. “I understand that you care about Emily and you’re concerned about her, but I can assure you, this court has her best interests at heart also. Her current foster father is being transferred to Chicago, and as I’m sure you know, Emily cannot be moved out of state. Her mother still retains her parental rights, so . . . ”

“I understand that,” Jennifer interrupted. What are you doing, she asked herself. You’re going to be sent to jail for contempt of court. “Look, when I joined this program, I made a commitment to Emily. I promised to be her advocate, and I’m not backing away from that. I’ve been the only constant in her life for almost a year. She’s just started to trust me, and I can’t let this happen to her. She doesn’t deserve to be shuffled around again, and to a group home? She’s only eight years old. That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Ms. Hurley, I admire your passion. I really do, but surely you understand by now that we have more children than the system can handle. Until another foster family becomes available, a group home is the best we can do, unless you’ve got another suggestion.”

“Approve my home as an emergency placement. My husband and I will be happy to take her.”

• • •

Ten years later, Bill and Jennifer watched proudly as Emily received her high school diploma.

“She turns eighteen in a couple of weeks,” Jennifer said. “Then she’ll officially graduate from the foster care system, too.”

“I wish we could have adopted her,” Bill said wistfully. “But she’ll always be our daughter even if she isn’t legally ours. And just think, when she leaves for college in the fall, we’ll be empty nesters.”

Jennifer looked at him hesitantly. She’d been wondering how to broach this.

“About that—we’ve done pretty well with our first three children. How would you feel about a fourth?”

“I think we’re a little old to have another baby, Jen.”

“I’m not talking about a baby. There’s a little boy who’s been coming into the children’s waiting room that you’d just love.”