Appeal to the gods of NYC housing

Never Done: I got L to talk, R hugged me

Josh and I drove to Yonkers for another teen panel -- the panels where You Gotta Believe! hires youth in the foster system to talk with prospective parents about what it is like to grow up, live, survive in the foster system. We went to this particular panel because there are a couple kids we knew would be there -- one (R) we both wanted to see again, and one (L) whom I had met, but Josh had not yet.

It is such a delicate thing, to go meet these young people a second and a third time. On the one hand, I am getting much more relaxed with them, so we are actually getting to know little things about each other. On the other hand, as much as I might like to parent a particular child, there is so much beyond my control in this situation -- are they free for adoption? Has someone else come forward for them? Am I certified yet? -- that I try to be extremely careful not to speak or act in a way that promises anything to anyone. And yet, what are we talking about here, if not promises? Why am I showing up at these panels again and again? Because I intend to make a commitment to one of these kids, and they know it. Delicate, delicate, delicate.

The first time I saw L on a panel, he had the flu and barely said anything. This time, he was in full form, but that doesn't mean he wanted to answer any of the questions the facilitator asked him. But his personality shined through his reticence (or maybe his personality is housed in his reticence) and I was able to start to get a better sense of him. The same delicacy with which I approached the communication last night also applies here; following the guidance of the mide (middah) Silence: Think before speaking, I want to be very thoughtful about what I do and don't write publicly. So without giving any details, I will just say that I am thinking about how to help someone blaze a path to an authentic identity when they are very young and already out, but without supportive parents, and so defiantly out.

A good hour into the panel, R turned to all the parents and asked why we are here. When it came around to me, she wanted to skip me because she had already heard me (at previous panels) say what I'm there for. But other people in the room hadn't heard, so they asked if I could talk. I asked her permission, since she had taken the facilitation, and she laughed and said it was OK. So when I said my piece (Josh already has kids, I don't, I want to parent, always assumed I would adopt, got to an age where I didn't want a baby anymore...) L snapped to attention, and said, "You want to adopt?" I said yes, and he said, "Hello!" The facilitator said, "Oh, now you woke up!" and I smiled across the room at him, and fired him a series of questions he had previously ducked and it made him laugh. From then on, he answered all the questions people asked him. It felt good to be relaxed enough to be able to draw him out a bit.

At the end of the evening, after I had asked R her personal story, and after I had spoken with all the other young people one on one, I went to say goodbye to R -- and she hugged me. It was a sweet recognition of our connection that started with a magnetic look across the room, and has slowly grown as I've thought about her, dreamed about parenting her, and have now begun to actually get to know her. Please, gods of NYC housing, find me a great home so I can bring (at least) one of these children home.