I swear it took a full ten days, if not more, for the social service agency to call me. I was starting to think they would not call, but they did, or rather, she did. The foster-parent recruiter or something like that left me a message. I waited one full day (gulp) before I called her back. It was Friday. I was calling her cell phone number, but she was not working. She was, however, in the shower. This was not going well, I fretted.
A few minutes later she called and told me about an orientation I needed to attend. There would also be a three-day class. I couldn’t make the date of the group orientation so we set up a one-on-one meeting. All the while I was thinking, gee, I don’t know if I can do this….
The following Tuesday I found the office of the County Department of Children and Family Services. I met Amy, the recruiter, and followed her through a maze of hallways filled with bags of children’s clothing, offices scattered with toys; a modest, but winding set-up. We sat at large table in a conference room, just the two of us. Amy was pleasant and talked for much of our time together -which I was glad for. She explained the foster parent options: emergency placement, short-to-long-term foster placement, and foster-to-adopt. She said that many people go into the class with a preference, but change direction after hearing the options. She suggested that I keep an open mind.
I asked her if I was unusual, being a single midlife woman, wanting to become a foster parent. She said no, and added that one of her favorites were a gay couple. I’m not gay I told her! Unflustered she told me an inspiring story about how this couple had taken in a rather sullen teen age boy, and later his two siblings. She went on to say how well the kids were doing, and that whatever environment this couple was supplying, all three kids had blossomed and were doing great. She told me a lot of stories like that. It crossed my mind that I might need a bigger house with more bedrooms…A lot of things crossed my mind that day…
At one point she asked why I wanted to be a foster parent. I told her I had been thinking about it for five years, but kept waiting for more ideal circumstances to come together. I explained that my own family had dissolved as late, and I was tired of waiting to create my own family. I felt tears well up as she encouraged me not to wait. “There’s never going to be a perfect time,” she said. “Something is calling you to be here now.”
So I committed myself to the class. It starts in three weeks and takes place during a weekend. It’s far enough away that I am not in a panic. Till then I have some papers to read. I haven’t taken them out of my car yet.
I know I will, soon.