IT STARTS HERE

This will start my book...

Page 1



It was a cool morning; my level of anxiety was running high. I was driving to the Crises Center to pick up a child named Mark. I wasn't sure where this place was, or what it might be like. I found it and took a long deep breath before opening the door. O.K. Lord, here we go. I walked in and was greeted by a woman, I told her I was to meet a worker for a child and yes, and I would wait.
Sitting there, the last few months ran across my brain. All the hard emotional turmoil was over, I thought. Learning about these children and where they come from, how to help them through their trauma's. This task seemed so easy to me. The hardest part for me was, would they, the agency except me to be a Foster Mom.
My background was not pretty, and I had to drudge through it again and again. Yes I was abused, both sexually and physically. Yes I was well aware of the statistics of victims becoming abusers. Yes I had, had a number of years in counseling. I was already raising two children of my own, who were doing just fine. I had a loving husband who knew and understood all of this. At times I felt like a victim all over again. But they would not break me and send me running out the door saying forget it I can't do this.
Being a foster parent had been in my heart for too many years, to run away now. I lived through all my past once, I could walk through it again. After all it was for all the children who were living my life over and more. I had to stay in.
So now I sit and think what will this child look like? What could have possibly happen to him in his 22 months of life? A voice broke my thoughts, thank God.” Would you like to come and see the children?" My heart raced. "Yes, I would", I replied quickly. I peeked my head over the half door leading into the playroom. My heart sunk, OH GOD, look at these babies. They're so tiny and frail. This was what they called the toddler room. . Some of these children had red chapped cheeks. Some had runny noses. Some had shirts riding up their bellies and pants almost up to their knees. I can still remember one very tiny frail skinny little girl. Her hair was almost to her shoulders, but very thin. I stepped one leg into the room and it was covered by arms wrapped around it. This one very sad face, with a runny nose, could only squeeze through all the others and raise her little arms up for me to pick her up. My heart just broke, as tears came to my eyes. Without hesitating I bent over and picked up this little featherweight. She garbed my neck like she was about to be eaten by wolves. My thoughts were, "OH LORD, WHY, why isn't she the one I'd be taking home with me?" I fought my way over to the chair sitting across the room. Trying to sit so I didn't fall over from all the children. The instant I hit the chair, I was covered with the kids. They were climbing on me,