I said that a lot as a foster parent. "Uh O." A great intelligent response to crisis. After years of experience, it was still the first words from my mouth after the s or d word. Well, my vocabulary did increase a little. I learn.

Introduction: This pre-teen started the engine alright, only it wasn't his engine, it was ours and it belonged to a white Ford in our driveway. Meet Johnny. He was 8 when he was placed in our home, a product of family incest and a victim of family sexual abuse. We'd had Johnny about 2 years. He was now nearly 11, developmentally delayed, and really hard to "reach." All I knew was he just didn't get most of what we said until several minutes later, which would have been funny if it didn't happen 40 times a day.

Coping

My kids would sometimes vent in private to me, by singing "hey ho, nobody home..." OK. I know that's not nice, but you open your home to other people's children and see what you and yours do behind closed doors to retain your sanity. Besides, our kids couldn't make fun of others to their face and only in private could they say almost anything to us. They were good to Johnny, but they were kids, too.

Your own children, when sharing their parents with other kids in the home, have got to receive special attention and parent time that keeps them solid and secure in your love and their position in the home.

I'm sure you've seen the look and felt the frustration of that annoying "delayed response time" most of our kids have when we ask them to help us out or pick up their toys and books.

Special Needs Kids

Big-blue-eyed-Johnny could turn to you and give you the spookiest and strangest clear-eyed stare that would make you swear "no one was home." Then, 15 minutes later,he'd say, "huh?" I was continually forced to go back in time trying to remember what I had said to him. By then, I had answered 4 questions from the other kids, peeled 10 potatoes, checked spelling homework, and discovered the secret for world peace.

Threatening Behavior

This verbal dance with Johnny was exhausting and his normally vacant look seemed to have a different flavor lately. I had mentioned to my husband, Lynn, that something had to change, and even though we hated to ask that Johnny be sent to special care, I was becoming nervous.

Opening your home, your safety zone, to strangers who live and sleep within feet of you, can have its risks. As you walk and talk with them, you think you're safe.

Safe Comfort Zones

That safety shattered one night, when I woke up with a start (that internal alarm, I think) and found Johnny standing over me with that glassy stare. I shouted "What are you doing?"

( I found myself looking for anything in his hands.) as I dug my elbow into my husband to get him awake. (Why is it that men can sleep through anything? especially cops!)

Johnny watched all of this silently, and after I repeated my question 20 times, he said the inevitable "I don't know." Lynn jumped up and took him back to bed and then came back and paced back and forth in the room. We kept saying, "What if he'd had a knife?" and "How can we keep the other kids safe?"

Panic in the Home

We tip-toed into the other rooms, gathered up our 3 sons and put them all in bed with us. I never shut my eyes that night. What were we going to do? The next day was the fourth of July and there was a huge annual celebration at thelocal park. As Assistant Police Chief, Lynn had to go. We cat-napped as long as we could, then got everyone up and ready for the fireworks and game booths, and off we went. Oddly enough, things went pretty smoothly and after the fireworks, we all collapsed back at home.

Everyone seemed normal and happy during the usual story time and thankfully, Johnny went to bed with no objection. We made our boys pallets on our bedroom floor and settled down for the night, tempted to block our closed door with a chair. Maybe we were over-reacting. We just had a bad feeling.

The next day, the decision of what to do was made for us. I awoke to the loud sound of someone beating on my front door with great force. I fumbled for the door while Lynn was struggling with his pants; all of us had a feeling of dread.

We were so tired, our thinking was slow and thick. I remember wondering if that was how Johnny felt when he was trying to figure out his world. I threw open the door and found my neighbor stuttering "He just drove off! I couldn't stop him. He just left. Hurry, do something!"

She was flapping her hands and stomping her feet, running in place as she was talking. I had the strong desire to giggle. "Who left who, who who?" I stuttered back.

"Johnny! It was Johnny! He took your car. Call the police!"

Lynn repeated "Call the police, Marisue. Call the police!" He stopped. "Wait a minute," he yelled. "I AM the police!!"

I ran to the place where our car was supposed to be and saw quarters scattered all over the pavement. Evidently he'd helped himself to the keys for the laundry room at the complex and took his bag of quarters. He was ready to travel! Great; an empty headed world wanderer. (Well? I was a mixture of anger and tears.)

It took several seconds for it to soak in that the car and Johnny were really gone.

Parental Guilt

I kept muttering things that made me sound ridiculous like "He can't have taken the car! (Like I could will this to be different.) He can't even see over the steering wheel. How did he get the keys? O my gosh, what if he hits someone! Where are my keys? Where are the police? What are we going to do?" So much for not panicking. We were getting pretty good at that.

Lynn began to think like a cop and being the great detectivehe was he went outside and said, "Yep, he took the car." Now, I believed it.

The urge to giggle and throw up at the same time was horrible. I heard a siren and realized Lynn had called the posse on his radio and help was arriving. This already hot July day in Oklahoma just got hotter.

We called our foster care supervisor and I was full of guilt. They were full of slow reactions and no help. Can you believe no one at Child Welfare showed up to help search? We couldn't believe it either. "Looks like you've got it under control" they said. Well it was Saturday, their day off after all.

In the meantime we were busy with self blame. Why had I hung my keys by the door? I was practically asking him to take the car. But of course, why would you think a short, slow-thinking 11 year old would take your car?

The police were combing the streets and finally found the car on a side road by the railroad tracks about 1/2 mile away. Quarters lay scattered around the car, but Johnny was no where to be found.

At least, we sighed in relief, he was off the road and the world was a bit safer. My greatest fear was he'd hurt or kill someone or himself in an accident. How couldI ever live with that?

We went from heavy fear to hysterical giggles off and on all day. As the day was drawing to an end, Lynn saw a flurry of movement at the corner of the house. He motioned to one of his officers and they walked around opposite sides of the house, grabbing Johnny as he tried to run.

I'm happy to say they refrained from shaking him, tackling him, tying him up, tazing him (o, wait, they didn't use tazers back then) or otherwise over re-acting in anyway. They did hold him by his shirt rather firmly but legally correct.

He had walked back to the house, after a long day of hiding in the nearby fields. Hungry, tired, and dehydrated he limply gave up.

Of course we asked the inevitable "why?" Johnny gave us the normal long empty stare, and silence. Then, a few minutes later, he said he just wanted to go get his brothers and sisters, (in a foster home about 10 miles away) and drive to Arkansas to find his mother.

I couldn't help asking where did he think Arkansas was and he replied confidently as he pointed North "Over there." Ok, that was clear. It was over there alright. West, not North and a 12 hour drive FOR AN ADULT. A sad state of mind for a young, confused boy, but strangely enough he was smiling.

However, our hearts were pounding from the hours and hours of stress and we were not amused. While we were sympathetic, we also found ourselves shaking from unspent anger, fear, and confusion. Johnny's social worker made a few phone calls and it was quickly decided (after the crisis, of course), that Johnny would benefit from a "more structured" environment than he'd receive in a normal foster home.

They probably don't hang their keys by the door in "structured foster homes."

Therapeutic Foster Care

Johnny's struggles were many, coming from a family of incest, sexual abuse, and slow mental ability, his future depended on lots of teaching and close care. Frankly, at least for a time, he needed locked doors and constant supervision.

That night, we took him to the youth shelter, and Johnny was soon placed in specialized care. We did hear from him off and on for the next few years, and he seemed to be doing all right. I like to think we made a difference. In our home, he was at least safe, well-fed, and was given healthy attention. With us, he had his first good Christmas, and a birthday party he labeled as "real."

You had to measure success in inches.

Honestly, we cared about all the kids. As they left to live their lives, we cried from sadness and sometimes for joy. Sometimes, you just couldn't pack their bags fast enough.Just keepin' it real, folks.

Our foster children were great teachers. We probably learned more about life from them than they did from us. Some kids can't be helped as much as we'd like; as you wait on time, you give them the best care and attention you can, and then move on to the next one waiting at your door. We often said to our friends, that our home had a revolving front door. Kids come and they go, and you have to reserve some strength and energy for the next one, while neverforgetting about your own children.

If you're trying to survive tough times, remember to save some energy for tomorrow. Giving all, all the time, just makes you give out.

The Family Nucleus

Foster parents know that in order to stay protected and strong, their own family must be the "forever family." You can't give strength to others if you are emotionally bankrupt.

If step children are in your life, then certainly include them in this forever circle. This family nucleus is the engine that produces strength and energy to give to others. We saw for ourselves that many children's beginning in life is grim.

So, hug your children a bit tighter, tonight. Smile at their small misbehaviors. And, be thankful they're not yet driving the family car. Did I mention to hide the keys?