05/04/2022
After a period of intense creativity a few years ago I found myself with nothing else to say. I shared some stories from my travels and wrote some things I believed were, and I hoped would be, inspiring, then…total writer’s block. I don’t like to write about my work because I have done so before and because it can get boring; writing about a professional topic usually requires some scholarly writing – which I loathe. I don’t want to write it and I especially don’t want to read it. Thus, my page went silent as I’d rather offer nothing than scrap together some bu****it just to keep my page active. I don’t do bu****it. Life is so short, I prefer to read, and to write, about comical or uplifting topics. Today, I offer you the latter.
As you can imagine, this job is rife with exposure to traumatic events. High-conflict divorces, ugly separations. It gets exhausting listening to people who hate their spouse/partner more than they love their children. I do not hesitate to give parents the what-for and to try to get them to see how their actions are harming their children. Watching children used as pawns really sets my hair on fire and I do my best to correct the imbalance of power that, I believe, is the foundation of most high-conflict cases. But some days the dark gives way to the light.
Many people ask me how I can handle termination of parental rights cases. I tell them, on a scale of 1 – 10, with 10 being the hardest cases I hear, I put TPRs at about an 8, maybe even a 7. Here’s why: the petitioner (usually the Department of Children and Families, but not always) bears the burden of proof. If the petitioner is alleging abandonment (for example), it is their job to prove the parent abandoned the children. The parent either did, or did not, abandon their children. That’s it. Yes. Or no. I am not deciding whether the parent is a good person or a POS. It is all about the burden - I look at the evidence and compare it to whatever burden the petitioner is trying to meet and make a decision. Yes. Or no. Now let’s compare that to a Petition for Relocation. These are always a solid 10 on the scale of difficulty because, usually, but not always, I have two good, loving parents one of whom wants to move the children away from the other. There is a burden in this situation too, but the lines are much less solid in these cases than they are in TPRs. It isn’t just a Yes or a No. There are multiple factors the court must consider and, often, the evidence blurs those lines. So where does the light come in? As usual, after the storm passes, there is calm.
Once a parent’s rights have been terminated and at least thirty days have elapsed for appeal, a joyous, momentous occasion occurs. A family comes forward, usually one who has been caring for a child for a lengthy amount of time, and asks the court to add that child to their family. Make it permanent. Make it official. Make it forever. One such occasion occurred recently when a loving family adopted a little boy who had been in foster care for 832 days – that’s over 2 years if you’re trying to do the math in your head. 2 years. Think about what your family has accomplished over the last two years. Think about the memories you have made. Was there a moment, even a passing second, where your children may have thought “I wonder if I’ll get to stay here”? Probably not. Welcome to the life of a child in foster care – where they don’t wonder, they worry, about whether they will be able to stay put. Will I fit in with the family? Will the other kids accept me? Will my foster parents be loving and happy? I have seen children as young as two years old moved six or seven times. Think about it: two years. 24 months. 7 moves. SEVEN. But all those thoughts were far from my mind recently when a darling five year old came into my courtroom for the last time. He was joined by his loving foster parents who had the entire family dressed in blue for the occasion. The extended family was there too. At the end of the hearing, after I announced that their petition for adoption had been granted and everyone screamed and clapped, the family asked to take pictures with me. This turned out to be one of the most moving conclusions to an adoption I’ve ever experienced. Camera-hog that I am, I always say yes to that invitation. I leave the bench and stand in front of it in the courtroom so the family can gather around me in front of the flags and the seal of the State of Florida. When I left the bench this time, that little cutie came right up to me and handed me a pretty gift bag. In it I found a papier-mâché print of his hand with his name written across the top. There also was a copy of the Starfish Story – something I believe in and incorporate into public speeches frequently. When it came time to take pictures I was struggling to keep the tears out of my eyes. (Judges are supposed to be stoic, you know. Plus, I don’t want anyone figuring out I’m really a big softie.) We took a few pictures with the immediate family and then with the extended family. Finally, the Mom asked me if I would be in a picture with just the five year old. Of course! She said “he’s a hugger” so I leaned down, I put my hands below his underarms, and I said “jump!” I’m a Momma, an Aunt, and a Great-Aunt so I know how to lift and to hold little people. This was one of the sincerest hugs I've ever received. After the loss of my father last year, I began to question if I should continue in this line of work. I questioned if I was doing a good job. I questioned if I was contributing anything to society. After that hug, I was no longer in such a quandary.
Sometimes I hear things through the ol’ grape vine and often I hear attorneys say I’m pro-parent. (I’ve been called much worse…in public!) I consider myself pro-law, which sometimes IS pro-parent, so, if that’s my reputation, well, I can live with it. It’s true, I do give parents every opportunity to be reunified with their children. Termination of parental rights is meant to be a last measure – I do not enter final judgments terminating parent’s rights unless it is necessary (which means it comports with the requirements of law). When parents are reunified, I congratulate them and give them the credit for doing the heavy lifting. I wish them well and I move on to the next case, not thinking about myself for even a split second. While parents are working their case plans, I tell them they can do it, I tell them they are enough. I try to give them tools for success from the very beginning of the case. But I never considered any of that to be a particularly special contribution to society. It’s just the job. After that adoption a few weeks ago, however, I think I’ll change my self-talk.
I am pro-parent because I am pro-FAMILY. I am a member of a close-knit, loving family. I bring that to the table. I am a divorced mother on her own with a child in college. I bring that to the table. I am a step-mother of over 30 years. I bring that to the table. Those experiences have filled me with an undying hope for success – a hope I often share with parents: if I can do it, YOU CAN TOO! I will continue attempting to lift parents up and to direct them toward the light. And I will remind myself that what I’m doing is worthy and is necessary and is a singular contribution to my community. Adoptions are always a brilliant example of that light to which I try to steer people. I can’t thank this family enough for the thoughtful gifts they brought me – and for the greatest gift of all, the love of a child and a reminder that I have lots of reasons to love me too.
