A NATURAL CHILD IN A FOSTER CARE HOME

Since Jane arrived in the spring it wasn’t long before we spent long hours working together in the barns, the fields, the garden and the house, tending to the various jobs and chores. All of those hours spent working side by side, planting seeds, pulling weeds and putting down mulch we did with Mom right alongside us teaching and correcting as needed. We would talk, laugh, yell, joke, tell stories and play tricks on one another. We didn’t dare get too carried away playing and joking, but as long as we kept working we didn’t get in trouble. It’s a great way to get to know one another and learn about one’s life.

When we worked with Dad in the fields and barns he shared stories about his childhood raising sheep on a potato farm in Idaho where he and his four siblings lived in a one-room, tar paper shack. In the winter it was so cold that the water in the bucket next to the stove was often frozen in the morning because the fire had gone out.

These stories planted many ideas and dreams in our minds of what we might want to do or not do when we grew up. They were adventures to say the least. Many of the stories that were told were adventures of hard times, but some of the stories were of funny things that happened to or were caused by Dad during his childhood.

Working with Mom we would often sing while working in the garden. Songs from the radio or old songs Mom had taught us. It was fun to hear everyone singing and laughing. It didn’t matter if we could carry a tune or not, just being together was good. It also seemed to make the work easier and finish faster.

Unfortunately, most of the memories that I had of Jane are dim or have been forgotten over the years. I know the feeling I have when I think of her is that I was timid and careful around her until one incident that sticks in my mind. That memory of Jane is the clearest I have. It came when our usual rotation of chores landed us on dish detail together.

On this particular day, weekly chore routine began like any other as we stood at the kitchen sink washing dishes for nine people. I washed while Jane rinsed and set the dishes up to dry. As I washed she noticed I was scrubbing the dishes above the water. She snapped at me, as she tended to, saying, “Wash them in the water!” and she pushed my hands down under. I quickly pulled them up exclaiming, “But it’s too hot!” “Why didn’t you say so?” She asked turning on the faucet to cool it down. A simple, yet unexpected gesture that changed how I looked at her and it has stuck with me for many years.

To this day I can’t tell you what it was that Jane learned from being with us or even what she felt when she lived with us. But I can tell you what happened seventeen years later during one of my visits back home, after I had moved out.

Mom, Dad, and I sat at the kitchen table catching up, when a strange car pulled into the driveway. We all went to the back door to see who it was. At first we weren’t positive, but could it be? Yes, it was Jane! With her was a very tall, young man who we soon learned was the two-year-old little brother that she was so close to, though he wasn’t so little anymore.

As we joked about how much he had grown, and how I had changed and grown myself, we exchanged hugs and talked about the surprise of her visit.

Soon Jane turned more serious and asked if she could see her old room. There were no children that lived at the house any more so the room had not been used for many years. I explained it had been the boys’ room last and things were not the same as when she lived here. She didn’t care; she just wanted to see it. So we went up to the room.

As we stepped inside, it was like walking back in time. The bunk beds were against one wall with the bedding still in place. Across the room sat the old dressers standing empty, covered in a layer of dust. The floor was cleared and only the model airplanes hanging from the ceiling swayed in the breeze as we opened the door.

She looked around for a long moment. A heavy silence filled the room and soon we saw tears begin to trickle down her face. Not knowing what to say, we stood there quietly waiting, puzzled at what she was feeling.

Finally, she spoke in a broken voice, “You don’t know what this place has done for me. After I left here I got caught up in partying, got married and had children. The drugs and alcohol ruined my marriage. But because of what I learned here, I’m off the junk, I’m putting my life back together, I’ve gotten straightened out and I’m remarrying my husband.” With that, we were all in tears and hugging her with great joy at how she had come through such hard times.

We all stood in wonder that she had gotten so much from living here for only six short months. Who would’ve guessed that such small amount of time could change a life. Those few months certainly impacted my life and clearly changed hers forever.

Because of this I know for certain that helping someone, when I am able, can make the difference of a good choice or a bad one. Even when you don’t see or hear the difference you’ve made, changes are happening.