Perspective Dream

I had what I call a "perspective dream" last night.

I had matched a family with a sib group of 4 African American kids, which is not unusual in real life. I was trying to get these kids into their permanent home -- trying to get them from match to placement. That's not unusual either.

What was unusual was that I was on a trip with these kids through Rwanda during the middle of the genocide. I had the oldest three with me and we were doing OK ... passing a lot of dead bodies on the streets, making our way through checkpoints because I was an American. People were being shot around us and the children were scared. I got the oldest three safetly to the refugee camp where we were going to wait for their adoptive parents.

But I had to go back and get the baby. When I found him, he was malnourished. His eyes were matted together. He had several skin diseases. His body was limp and I could tell he was sick. We made the journey, but when I got to the refugee camp, they wouldn't let me past the door. They were full, they said, and he would infect others. I did everything to convince them becuase the gunfire was getting closer every minute. I woke up not knowing if I ever made it in.

All the sudden uncooperative social workers and postponed staffings, indecisive supervisors and argumentative GALs, state shut downs and people retiring, and the ever present ICPC question were such small obstacles. Yes, they are annoying, but the kids are relatively safe, I am safe, the family is safe. We are not hungry, we are not fearing for our lives, we are not watching our loved ones die.