When Doing the Wrong Thing was Right!

Little Lizzy (not her real name) was one of my favorite foster babies. At the tender age of 18 months, she would look up at me with her huge brown eyes and seemingly study my face. My son was nine years old then, still needing "Mom" but stretching for a little independence as well. Thus, Lizzy filled my need to have a little head nuzzled in my neck once again.

I knew very little about Lizzy's parents because when she was placed with me, I was told only that her mother and father were incapable of caring for her. She settled into our family quickly and it seemed like she belonged there.

Several months after Lizzy came to live with us, the social worker called to say her parents had requested a visit with her. It was scheduled the following week at the offices of the Department of Social Services. I was told to plan on staying through the one-hour visit since I was a person Lizzy knew and trusted.

Lizzy and I were in the social worker's office where I was reading a book to her, when her parents arrived. Kissing her little face I told her I'd finish reading the book later. Moving to the larger conference room, I saw the parents.

The toll of alcohol and drug abuse was immediately apparent on their faces. Both were only in their 30's but appeared closer to 50. Lizzy seemed to recognize them but was content to stay in my arms. It was only after the plastic blocks and big puzzles were put on the floor that she eagerly got down to play.

The visit lasted just under an hour and by then, thankfully, Lizzy had warmed up to her parents, allowing them to hug her. The social worker appeared in the doorway to announce the visit was over. In the space of that hour, however, foster mom and biological mom had connected through Lizzy. Yes, her mom was obviously incapable of caring for this little girl, but without a doubt, I knew her mother also loved and missed having her child in her life.

The social worker led us all down the corridor to the main entrance and hastily retreated to her office after telling Lizzy's parents that she would schedule a home visit for the following month with them.

As we all walked to our cars, I made a decision I have never regretted. Pulling her mom aside, I said, "You just never know who you might run into some night at K-Mart." With a genuine look of surprise on her face, I added, "Lizzy and I will be doing some shopping tonight around 7 p.m."

While I don't recall what department we were in, I do remember Lizzy's mother finding us in the end aisle, near the back of the store, just minutes after 7 p.m. With a grin that couldn't have been any bigger, she reached for her baby, hugged her tightly, and gave me a look of appreciation that I will always treasure.

We lingered there, among the sale items and "blue-light" specials, for a good twenty minutes, both of us chatting like any two friends who just happened to be in the same place at the same time. I noticed Lizzy and her mom were also more relaxed in this visit than the controlled one in the office of the social worker.

In the end, we are all responsible for our decisions, be they right or wrong. As pertains to Lizzy, I have never regretted my decision to listen to my heart and do what was technically wrong.