Rise and Shine Girl Blog

This morning I woke up with the feeling that I had my mind and heart pulled over a plane of gravel and glass! I tend to have the most vivid and memorable dreams right before I wake up. Buddha has an explanation for this something to do with sleep cycles. I dreamt that I was back working in the foster care system in Chicago. I didn’t have the same clients and it was a totally different setup, but I could tell from how I felt in my dream I had the same passion and blood pumping through my body as I did when I ran the streets of Chicago. In fact when I awoke, I was thinking I needed to go sit down and write my Medicaid notes. Back in the day we kept notes on all of our interactions with the kiddos, their families, the schools, the court system, etc. This was also how the agency I worked for got reimbursed. So, I took it seriously on how I should document, but more so how timely and detailed I should be. I’m not attempting to pat myself on the back here, but I was one of the very few who was consistently update on my notes. There were some who were months behind! At the time I was so frustrated that other workers could let the time go by. For one, it came down to dollars and cents for the agency, but more importantly how could the documentation be accurate and inclusive of the necessary details? Details…

Technically we needed to document what occurred during our interaction and who was involved along with coding what type of interaction it was. I was fortunate to be part of a team who handled all portions of the child’s life. We, the social workers, were the caseworker, child therapist, school advocate, visitation observer, court liaison and TAXI cab driver. There were times that this felt like way too much, but in my opinion, it was the most productive way to care for children who were no longer in their biological home. It also made us, the social workers, the one constant in the children’s lives. With all the above said, that is why I felt documentation was so crucial, but there was also one more reason.

The kiddos I had were considered complex cases meaning their foster families received a higher stipend because the kiddos were considered either a complex medical or emotional case, or both. With that label and bag of issues brought along multiple placements for them. I had one set of brothers who at the time where 3 and 6 and by the time they became my case they had already been placed in 7, yes 7, foster homes. As I type this I’m stunned when I take a minute to process what I just wrote. Take a minute and just think of what that would be like.

Back to documentation. When wards of the state reach the age of 18 they can access their records. I’m not sure how many do and honestly I’d be afraid to think what that might be like for most who grew up in the foster care system. With that in mind, I took documentation super seriously for many reasons, but more importantly because the records in the end were truly the only constant in the children’s lives. For the majority of people who may read this blog, you have stories that have been shared about you from parents, siblings, friends, family, etc. You may get together and talk about back in the day. These stories root you in a sense, sometimes define you and also give a sense of your life timeline. When stories are told about you, you have the gift of seeing a situation from another person’s perspective besides your own. This can be so unbelievably helpful as we sometimes carried skewed stories with us into our adulthood that aren’t always accurate. So, who would be there to share the stories with the foster care kiddos when they aged out of the system? Turns out, not a who, but a what…the permanent file on the child.

Sundays to me during that time were not about reading the paper or kicking back to read a great book. Sundays were to document the stories that would travel with these kiddos. If they ever chose to go back and look at their file once they reached 18, I wanted them to have a glimpse of what they were like in someone else’s eyes. What some of the funny things they said or did. That file could not only be all about the different systems they were a part of. That file needed to tell a story about their life, because chances are the individuals who were in the lives of the children then were not going to be around when they became young adults.

As I sit here and type I see two little munchkins out the window. One an almost two year old and another a four year old. These little pipsqueaks live next store and bring me many smiles. They are fortunate to have been born into the life situation they have. They will have family stories that follow them through the years that will help mold them. They are blessed.

Yesterday Mia and I jumped in the car and hit the driving range, came home and hopped on our bikes, and rode to have lunch at a local café. While sitting outside a young girl rode by on her bike and our eyes connected. She came right up to me and asked if she should could have a dollar to buy a slushy.  I opened my wallet and found I only had a ten dollar bill. I said, “I tell you what, I will give you this $10 to go in and get a slushy, but I expect for you to bring the change back to me.” At that point she said, “Okay can I also have another dollar to buy rock candy?” I looked at her and said, “Only a slushy.” She said okay and walked into the market.

Meanwhile Mia looked at me from across the table and says, “You know mom, you’re nice. I don’t think I would have given her a dollar.” This led into a conversation that I knew would happen at some point. I had Mia look down at this girl’s bike and think about what her story could be. Why she had the guts to ask a complete stranger for money as Mia said she could never do that. We talked about how one interaction can make a big impact on a person’s life. We talked about how we are fortunate to be where we are and there are families within biking distant that live moment to moment hoping they will be able to get what they need. As I looked across the table at Mia, she suddenly looked like a young adult. She had a mature look across her face and the level of conversation we had was amazing.

The little girl came back with my change and said thank you and rode away. That was one of the best dollars I ever spent.   Mia and I have a story to remember. We will be able to reflect back on this together. Hopefully the little girl will have a story she will remember as well. A story that includes her ability to ask for what she wants, a story where someone heard her, a story that a complete stranger trusted her with $10, a story that there was a beautiful Saturday while out on her bike she got a slushy to cool herself off, and a story that there are good people out in this world.

We all have our own story and it is this story that continues to affect our journey here on earth. As I look back I think some of the proudest moments I will take with me throughout my journey are the ones where I gave when I could and even when I gave when I couldn’t, because in the end the stories are what remain, not the money, not the objects, not the belongings, just the stories stored in our heads that mold us.

RISE AND SHINE!