“Come on, we have to go,” my father
told my two younger sisters and me. He told us we had to put our shoes on and
get in the car. We drove until we arrived at a strange house.
‘Whoa,’ I thought to myself as a woman led us into her house. I got
excited because this house was much nicer than the trailer in which we lived. It
had a fireplace with hardwood floors. The couch was leather and the kitchen had
granite countertops. This was the home of my father’s employer and the woman
was the employer’s wife.
“I need to run to the gas station
and then I’ll be right back,” my father assured the woman. He never did. Since
then, I’ve seen him only a handful of times.
My clothes
stuck to me and my skin and head felt itchy. The woman told us we needed to
take a bath so she helped us undress while the warm bath water ran. She helped
my sisters and I wash, but she suddenly gasped.
“Head
lice,” she muttered, “what am I supposed to do now?” She took a deep breath,
finished bathing us, and then I heard her talking on the phone. We were still
awaiting my father’s return to come to retrieve us from this strange house. After
several hours, another woman came to the house, bringing us all fresh, clean
clothes.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
This had been just an ordinary day
for my grandma, who had gone into her bedroom to make her bed.
As she did, she
heard an announcement come across the police scanner that made her heart sink.
Meanwhile, my mother was taken to
jail. She was given the chance to call someone and she called her mother, my
grandma, and explained what had happened.
“Did you tell them you had family
to take the children?” my grandma asked her.
“No, it’s none of the social
workers’ business,” my mother replied.
My grandma then contacted Social
Services to find out where we were and what was happening. Hurriedly, she
picked up the phone and called my grandpa, who was at work at the time.
“Jeff, the children were taken by
Social Services. The social workers have a temporary foster home lined up for
the girls, but they don’t have a place for Josh. Can we take them?” she asked.
“Of course,” he answered.
My grandma quickly contacted the
social worker and told her that she was our grandmother and that she was
willing to take all three of us. She was told that the department would meet to
see if this action would be approved. Time was endless as she waited for the
phone call to come. Finally, at 4 pm, the call came.
“It has been approved. You can pick
the children up at any time,” the social worker said.
My grandparents drove to the
office, but learned that no one seemed to know where we were. After frantically
searching and asking questions, they found someone who knew the details of our
situation. The worker helped them find us and my grandparents drove to the
house where we were staying.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Two and a
half years later, I found myself sitting in an empty courtroom facing the judge
with my grandparents and sisters.
“By the
State of Wisconsin, I hereby pronounce Jeffery and Sharon Weier official
adoptive parents over children, Joshua Edward, Krystal Marie, and Felicia Star
Cabrini,” the clear and powerful voice of the judge rang out, followed by the
loud pound of the gavel.
It was
silent on the drive home from the courthouse as we were all contemplated what
our lives would now be like.
“Do we have
to call you ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ now?” I asked, finally.
“You don’t
have to. You can keep calling us ‘grandpa’ and ‘grandma’ if that’s easier for
you,” my grandma answered.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
It was a
warm summer day as we approached the St. Paul, Minnesota Temple. The gold Angel
Moroni statue on the tip of the temple’s highest peak sparkled in the sunlight.
The air smelled of freshly mowed grass as we exited our car in the parking lot.
Kind temple workers helped my sisters and I dress in white clothing and led us
into a waiting room. Finally, we were led into the sealing room and I saw my
grandparents, dressed in white, kneeling at the altar.
“I seal
these blessings upon you and pronounce a family, sealed for time and for all
eternity,” the sealer announced. At last, we were theirs, not only in legality’s
eyes, but in God’s eyes also.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
