At the age of six, living in New York, she was the third of six children, born to a woman who had allowed drugs and alcohol to rule her life. The child was placed for adoption, by the Department of Children and Families.
She was brought to Florida at the age of nine, with only a few memories of her life before foster care. Two and a half years later, the adoption failed and the little girl was deserted.
Our fourth foster child came into our lives, not only suffering from the loss of her biological family, but the loss of her adoptive family as well. Those who had adopted her had destroyed her paperwork and no one seemed to have record of the child's last name at birth.
She was tiny, emotionally fragile and absolutely, beautiful. There was so much pain and anger that she rejected even the slightest touch of affection. This beautiful little girl, without a home, a family or even her own last name, stood before me, her future in my hands.
So ill equipped to handle the needs of this little girl was I that sometimes I wondered what-on-earth I had been thinking.
And then, other days, I felt so much pride as she revealed the strength of the human spirit.
