The door swung open abruptly. “What are you doing right now?” I was a chief resident, a young pediatrician who had just completed my own medical training, and was now responsible for administrating the training of other residents. I was working on the resident schedule at the time. He stomped impatiently and waved to me. “Come on, let’s go.” I followed him, after all, he was going to be my boss in a few weeks. I had no idea where we were going, and he didn’t offer an explanation. We got into his Jeep and drove a few miles from the hospital, stopping at a low brick building with no sign. “This is the foster shelter. I want you to think about being the doctor here,” he announced. The shelter? Come to think of it, I had heard the social workers at the hospital talk about kids from the shelter, but I had no concept of what it might be like, or why kids would even be there.
We took the tour. Offices. Dorm-style bedrooms with 2 plain beds and a small dresser. A half-court gym that reminded me of my own gradeschool. A common area with books, games, and a television. As buildings go, it wasn’t too bad – a little institutional, but not too bad.
Then I saw them – children. Everywhere.
Babies. Toddlers. Kids. Teenagers. Moving in small groups through the halls and rooms, led by direct care staff from lunch to naps, school to free time. A few days ago they were at home with their families. Now, because of what their families have done or neglected to do, now they are homeless. Sure, they have food and shelter. But this was no home. There were no homes – no relatives or foster parents waiting to hold them, to comfort them, to encourage them.
I was horrified. I didn’t sleep for days. And I knew without a doubt that I was going to be the shelter doctor.
Debbie, God loves you and so do I. I sit here in tears, my heart aching for these children. Dan and I talked about you and your site just yesterday. Were it not for the fact that we have three grandchildren and an unemployed daughter we would be doing something to help. For now, we feel that our calling is with our babies and their mother. Sometimes, when we are out and about, we see a young family, (maybe just one parent) really enjoying their child/children–talking to them, looking at them, and responding to their comments as though hearing them for the first time. We always make it a point to pass by and make a comment in regard to the beautiful picture they present and the value of what they are doing. Our Jason has a wonderful way with children. We have encouraged him to go into education but so far it’s not happened. Maybe I should mention this to him. Children, both boys and girls, need to know the influence of a decent man in their lives. You’re doing a wonderful thing for God’s children, but I always knew you would.
Hey ma’am
You are so kind! Keep encouraging young parents – you never know when a simple action like that might change the direction of a life. Glad you are following along, and appreciate your thoughts and prayers
Deb
I use to work at a shelter. I was a temp there. I don’t think people can comprehend the system and what these children go through unless you have been right there in it. I went into the job with a mission to help only to find when I got there I was being trained by others who at one time got the job with hopes to help but came to a place of hopelessness and it simply became a job. I fell in love with all the children and many of my fellow workers but walked away because I had mixed emotions on feeling like I wasn’t helping these children and feeling that this system, that appears on the outside to be a place designed to help, wasn’t. It is good to see someone who went in and made a decsion that something needed to be done to help these kids more then the system is. It is crucial they receive emotional stimulus of love. Sure a roof over their heads and food and clothes is fine but my issue was I felt they needed much more then that. the focus needed to be on an emotional level because alot of the kids coming in had a roof, food and clothing but were being abused leaving them feeling unloved, worthless, unimportant. As a worker I was told not to get attached and when I would show affection it was reinforced I needed to watch myself and not be quite so affectionate. What the other workers didn’t know is I was once one of these children, not in a shelter but my father was abusive so I was still emotionally right where these children are. I was trying to give them what I myself craved in the midst of abuse and then being told not to give them what I felt they needed most. It was a huge struggle and honestly I was one of those people that thought it was a hopeless cause that I had in my heart and walked away because what I watched day in and day out wasn’t what I agreed with in helping the kids. A day doesn’t go by where foster children aren’t in my heart and that I feel I should have done more. It is good to see people with that strength.