the jacket

A gal I know, who has had a hard life, contacted me and asked if I'd print the following article that she read. It applied to her, she said, because she, too, was a product of foster homes and always felt out of place. It made her cry, but also strengthened her resolve to look ahead and as she grows and moves forward in life, to use her past in a positive way to help others. Encouraged by this, here is the story:

"She looked younger than her fifteen years. Her white face stood out against the blackness of her hair. She was a child of the foster care system. We had received a call from the Ministry that a home was needed for a young girl immediately, and of course we agreed.

There was a lot of hustle and bustle to get her room ready. We were not expecting a child for another two months. The day was filled with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. Our own children kept asking questions such as:

"What is she like?" and "How long will she stay?"

"We'll just have to wait and see," was all I could answer.

We had four children of our own: Margaret and Joanne were seventeen and fifteen, and Rob and Jeff were twelve and nine. That afternoon, Susan arrived with the social worker. She hugged the wall. Her eyes had the look of a hunted animal. At this point, I stepped forward and said, "Welcome to our home, Susan."

"Kids, please go downstairs to the family room, so Dad and I can talk with Mrs. Kline." We sat at the kitchen table, and Susan was very quiet. Her eyes darted back and forth like a creature looking for a way out. This was her fifth foster home since she turned eleven. I wanted to put my arms around her and tell her she would be safe with us. I didn't want to scare her.

For the first two weeks Susan was quiet. She came into the kitchen while I was working. We discussed school and what she would like to do in the future. Mrs. Kline gave me all the information about Susan's past. I never mentioned the terrible things that had happened to her.

Her so-called mother placed her in very strict religious homes. Punishments were harsh -- cruel acts like putting Susan in basement closets or forcing her to kneel on rice in the corner.

I wondered if, in trying to help Susan, I had taken on too much. Her life had been one crisis after another. Would she be able to put the pain behind her and get on with her life? Would I fail? Self-doubt overwhelmed me.

It was Friday night and Susan had been with us for only one week. Margaret and Joanne were getting ready to meet their friends. Susan was watching television.

"Aren't you going out with the girls?"

"You mean I'm allowed to go with them?" she asked in amazement. Her question took me by surprise.

"I was never allowed to go out at night at the other house," she continued.

"Well," I finally responded, "it's different here. Friday and Saturday you can go out but the curfew is eleven o'clock." When she heard my words, she jumped up and hugged me. I was so surprised that I almost fell backwards.

As the days went by, Susan became a pleasure to have around. It seemed like she had always been with us. To my delight, the girls would sit in each other's rooms and giggle like typical teenagers. It was a sound that warmed my soul.

Susan had been with us for about a month when I decided Joanne needed a new jacket for school. Susan asked to come with us. She wasn't used to shopping in stores other than discount outlets. The process of buying involved filling out receipts and sending them to the Ministry; she found it all very embarrassing.

Joanne was trying on a green suede jacket with a fur collar. It was expensive but she pleaded and said she would give up her allowance and do extra chores, anything to have it. Susan chose a jacket she liked and was promenading in front of the mirror. As I watched her, I realized she was not the same girl who had entered our home only four weeks earlier. She stood taller and held her head higher. The tightness in her face had softened. She was able to look me in the eye when she spoke.

She walked up to Joanne, modeling the jacket for her, and sighed. "Isn't it beautiful?" Joanne agreed as they both preened in the mirror. Susan replaced the jacket on the rack. I watched the two.

"That coat looks so nice on you, can I borrow it sometime? Alex will love you in it!" She teased. I hadn't seen her face so animated before.

While they were busy I quietly asked the salesperson to wrap up the jacket that Susan had tried on. "Please don't let her see; it's a surprise." For the next few minutes I kept Susan busy while the salesperson rang up the sale and wrapped the treasure. Then we formally bought the coat that Joanne had loved. The salesperson had placed the parcel containing the jacket where the girls couldn't see it. I told them I was going to the ladies' room and managed to sneak it out to the car without being caught.

When we arrived home, Joanne proudly modeled her new jacket for Margaret. Susan was still talking about it and how Joanne would lend it to her.

"Susan, would you please go to the car and bring in the parcel from the trunk?" She happily complied and when she returned, laid it on the table.

"Open the parcel for me while I put on the kettle?" I could hear the sounds of ripping paper, and then I turned, and saw her reaching out to touch the jacket.

Her hand recoiled as if she had touched something hostile. I walked towards her and put my arms around her. Susan looked directly into my eyes, unable to speak.

I held Susan's face and asked, "Isn't this the jacket you were trying on?" At that, Susan started sobbing.

"In all my life no one has ever bought me a beautiful jacket like this. Why did you do it?" She held the jacket and stared at it with disbelief. I was on the brink of tears myself and my voice shook as I managed to say, "Because you deserve it."

I left the kitchen and went to my bedroom. I couldn't stop crying. My heart ached for this child, who didn't feel she was worthy of a new jacket. As I was sitting there deep in thought, a knock came on the door.

"Come in." There in the door way stood my five children. Susan was standing at the back holding the jacket so tight. Their faces told me they needed to say something. Margaret stepped forward and spoke for them:

"Mom, thank you for bringing Susan into our home. We hope we can keep her forever." The rest of the heads bobbed up and down in agreement. My eyes welled with tears again.

"We love you, Mom." I looked at the faces of my treasures and whispered, "I love you too. I'm the luckiest mother in the world."

Susan stayed in Vancouver with us until she was twenty-three. She returned to the province she was born in but wasn't accepted back by her mother. I now call her my daughter and she calls me her angel." ~ Carol Sharpe