#10 When Grandma and Grandpa Become Mom and Dad

‘What’s happening?’ I wondered, as the red and blue lights lit up the dark trailer house. My four-year-old eyes burned as I blinked at the bright lights. It was my mother’s car, trapped by a cop car, but I couldn’t understand what was going on. As I sat on the kitchen counter and looked out the window, I watched a police officer force my mother’s arms behind her back as he placed her in handcuffs. He then pushed my mother into the back of the police car. I later learned that she was being arrested for driving while intoxicated.

“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.

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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.

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            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.

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            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.

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  My wife was a vision in white as we entered the sealing room together to be married and sealed for time and all eternity on May 3, 2014. I saw the smiling faces of our family and closest friends gathered around us in support and love. After the sealing, my wife and I looked into temple mirrors and looked into the eternities together. Our families congratulated us, along with smiles and tears of joy, and went outside to wait for us. We blinked in the sunlight as we exited the temple, sealed as an eternal family, to cheers from our friends and family.