I was getting weaker and sicker each day. We can’t always blame foster parents, for things that go wrong in a life of a foster child.
Of course, the only thing harder to be than a child, is a foster child. You never really feel that your foster family, is your family. By the time I would turn eight, I would have already been in eight different foster families. So you never know how long you are going to be in home, before they change you into another home. And in some cases, if they have no other place to be you, guess what, you go to an institution designed for teenage delinquency, even if you have done nothing wrong. So what I am about to tell you, should be no surprise to you.
Grandpa Town had asked the Welfare Department for money to take me to Riley’s Hospital for Children, in that day, it was about a three hour trip.
The Welfare Department replied, “If you cannot afford to take him, we will cite you for neglect, and will take him, away from you.”
As it turned out, times were hard, and they could not afford to take me. So true to their word, I was yet taken out of another good foster family.
I was a pawn to the Welfare Department, they wanted to adopt out, but my Biological Mom, would not sign the adoption papers. My Biological Mom was on one side, the Welfare Department on the other side and I was caught in the middle, and they never really cared what happened to me.
They had already determined, that I would never make it to the hospital alive, and so they hired a funeral home to transport me to the hospital, three hours a way.
But God never left me, for he gave me a little angel along the way. Jeri Good, was the lovely daughter, of the funeral director. It was probably a scary ordeal for her. She was only a few years older than me.
She held my head on her lap the entire journey to the hospital. Maybe she even prayed for me along the way. But God had a plan for my life, for when I arrived to the hospital I was still alive, barely, but I was still alive.
I would be in this hospital for six to eight months, I do not remember exactly. But I do remember the trip as unusual as it was. Usually to ride in a funeral car means someone has died. Well I was supposed to be dead, but God did not allow that to happen to me.
What Satan means for evil, God turns around for our good. I did not know what lay in store for me, but for now I was safe, in a child friendly hospital. The doctors, nurses, and medical staff were very good to me. And for now that is all that matter to me.
I never forgot Jeri and today our family is friends with her, and when it is time for me to leave this earth, I want the Foster and Good Funeral Home to prepare me for my final destination.