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| Is there room for one more? | |
| In
this season of home, thankfulness, some children
hunger for a permanent place at the family table
She giggles when you think she'd cry. When Kimberley talks about the day she and her siblings were taken away from their mother, there's a burst of emotion from her that makes you look up from your notebook and expect to see tears. On her face, instead, is a big smile. When she talks about the pain of having two of her siblings adopted, there's that sound again. Look up. Again, no tears but a big grin. So it's not surprising when, broaching the possibility that she won't be adopted, it doesn't seem to bother her. Looking two years ahead to her 18th birthday, she says, like a battle charge, "until we get emancipated," and thrusts her fist triumphantly in the air. As if getting adopted doesn't mean that much to her. As if, when the guard comes down minutes later, she doesn't say passionately, "I want a home." Or later, "I want to be adopted real bad." Like a plea. Kimberley is a 16-year-old sophomore at South San High School. She's also one of the 133 children who need families in the 28-county region served by the local Texas Department of Protective and Regulatory Services office. It's fitting as well as poignant that November is National Adoption Awareness Month. For this is the holiday season when people throughout the country return to the tables of their youth and to the families that nurtured them. But there are too many children for whom such a table and family doesn't exist. For these 133 children in the area, there will be no such reunion and gathering place of shared memories and joy. Though Thanksgiving is a time to give thanks to the bounty in our lives, for some families, it should also be a time of reflection and of looking around the table, laden with food and brimming with love, and wondering if there isn't room for at least one more permanent seat at that table. There are 133 children waiting for a family to which they can belong; 133 jewels looking to be added to a family treasure; 133 lonely branches eager to be part of a family tree. Unfortunately for these children, the longer they have to wait, the less likely it is that they'll be adopted since most people looking to adopt prefer babies and small children. "The age of 10 seems to be the point where it's difficult to get them adopted," says Bill Whipple, the Foster/Adopt Family recruiter for the San Antonio region of Child Protective Services. "The bulk of people call about preschoolers." Almost a third of the children looking for homes are ages 11-17. Whipple says that people are wary to take a chance with teen-agers. "Teen-agers carry the stigma of gang involvement," he says. "People shy away from them particularly if they don't know the children's background." He says that older couples are more likely to adopt older children because they don't want to go back to raising a baby. But not even enough of these couples are coming forward. Unless they're adopted, many of these children will, at the age of 18, max out of the system and be on their own. "We have an awful lot of these older children," he says. "A lot of these kids need a second chance." Like Kimberley. It was last year that she and her four younger siblings were removed from the home of their mother and step-father. The reason? "Every type of abuse and neglect," she says. The emphasis is on "every." The children spent three months at the Baptist Children's Home, the last time they lived together. Eventually, their mother terminated her rights. Two of Kimberley's brothers, twins, have been adopted by different families and no longer live in San Antonio. News of their adoption hurt. "I was crying, I was having a selfish moment," she says with a giggle. "I think of them as mine. When they're adopted, they're not mine anymore. It crushes me." Since September of last year, Kimberley has lived with her foster parents, Sonny and Joy Manuel, who have two other foster daughters. She calls them mom and dad but knows it won't last. "These people are nice but it's a foster home," she says. "This is meant to be temporary." She misses her siblings and mother. "I just can't stay away from my family," she says, while realizing that's how it must be. "Sometimes, I think it's my fault," she admits. "That I did something wrong. But I didn't. I try to get that through my thick skull." Her foster mother says, "Whoever gets this girl is going to get a jewel." Yet Kimberley knows that her age may be a barrier to adoption. "Sometimes I get this feeling that I'm not wanted," she says softly without a smile or giggle. "That nobody wants me. I'm kind of still hoping. But if I don't get adopted, I'll be OK." On the other side of town, there are three siblings named Shanteal, Coriel and Raven, who'd rather not be adopted if it means being separated. At the respective ages of 16, 13, and 11 they fall also into the category of older children less likely to be adopted. Their chances are further limited in that they're African-American, the most difficult group to place. In March, their mother terminated her rights to them. Each of the children live in a different house in a cul-de-sac of foster homes run by Boys Town of San Antonio. This is the limit that they'll tolerate not being together. Coriel, soft-spoken and tall, says he'd be upset if a family only wanted to adopt Raven and not the other two. "I'd be kind of angry and determined that I want to stay with my sister," he says. Raven, who pulls nervously at her cheeks, says she wouldn't go. "I don't want to stay there," she says. Raven admits to feeling sad when thinking about the difference between her and her schoolmates. "They have their parents and I don't," she says. If the siblings aren't adopted, they have a backup plan. Shanteal, who wasn't available to be interviewed, plans on adopting her siblings when she turns 18. "Shanteal is like a mother to them," says the children's caseworker, Diana Gonzalez. "They have an intense bond between them." "If we can be adopted before then, it will be great," says Coriel. "But I know my sister is smart and very capable." Lisa Herman and her husband, Richard, run the home in which Coriel lives. "These are precious kids without a family," she says. "People need to realize we can make room for one more or three." On Thursday, Shanteal, Coriel and Raven will eat their Thanksgiving dinners in different houses. Where they'll eat next year, no one knows. If they're not adopted by a family, Coriel says that he and his sisters, when they become adults, will celebrate the holidays together, in the comfort of the only family they truly know: each other. Like Kimberley and other children who aren't adopted, it will be left to them to create their own gathering place and traditions. They stand at the table of a nation's table waiting to be asked to take a seat and become a permanent member of a family. In this season of thanks, it's left to a 13-year-old to remind us what the seasons of our lives should be about. This is Coriel explaining why he wants to work with children. "I don't want them to have to go through the same thing I did. I can prevent it. I hate to see children cry. They don't have to cry. Somebody's there to help." Expressnews.com |
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