grace comes lilting
heavy gray rain pounding
the new blackberries outside
my window to mush.

grace comes lilting
peanut butter across my knuckles
and
spaghettios on my favorite shirt

high floating voice from the
back room.
hard hugs from
tiny arms.

her brother smells
sweet as only small boys
can. innocence as peace rests
on thin shoulders and
bright eyes.

her sister holds my arms
and smacking kisses
on my lips
the frenetic love
of a five year old.

grace comes lilting
in my arms
her arms around my neck
head on my shoulder.
as though she were my own
blood (though not my child)
is how i love her
love them

and so in the still of night
they are my own blood
they are unaware
of bringing grace
they own my heart

-Lillian Pincus-

I get a myriad of comments from people when I tell them I work in child welfare for the state. They range from "have another drink!" to "that's incredible" to "I could never do that", and those answers don't necessarily surprise me; it is, however, always fascinating to see who says what. It is, in one word, a frustrating job. Somedays you feel like a warrior, somedays you feel like a fool, and in each of those days is the potential to be good at what you're doing and the potential to be terrible at it. I suspect that's the same in every job. But I have begun to learn the massive ramifications of making mistakes in the world of child welfare, consequences that span from the unthinkable--the death of a child--to the fixable ones, because every time we make a mistake, it hurts the life of a kid in our care. Sometimes it hurts them in ways they don't ever realize, and more often than not it is a fixable error. But still. That is a lot of pressure to have floating around the office day in and day out.

With the knowledge of that pressure, of caseloads and demands and needs of the children in our state, comes a deep helpless frustration with public opinion of DHS. I am the first to tell you that we make mistakes. Who doesn't?! And we all know, every single one of us, what's at stake when those mistakes are made. But the opinion that seems to pervade our state: that child welfare is useless, incompetent, a waste of money, that state workers are paid too much for doing too little, that as an agency we do more harm than good, make me want to scream. Part of that is my own belief in some of those opinions. While I question how we operate, I have to go in to work every day with my whole heart in it, and so my doubts and fears have to be put aside every morning. But there is another side, and that is the look on the face of each caseworker I know. They don't realize it I think, but each worker in my branch has a set to their jaw, a glint in their eye, a compassion in their voice bolstered by steel backbones. They deal with demands of the court, furious parents, and traumatized kids. They are, every one of them, overworked. They are impressive by simply getting out of bed and coming to work. I echo that sentiment for EMTs/paramedics, ER docs/nurses/techs/scribes, police officers. There is something in those professions, a part of the world that is seen that no one wants to see, that makes the act of showing up with your eyes open impressive. I envy my caseworkers their ability to look every day and maintain an attitude that change can still be made.

Mostly I would like those who hold an opinion of the child welfare agency that is less than favorable to learn more than just what they see in the media. Because I can't blame them for feeling how they feel when they only hear about the two year old drowned by his mom's boyfriend or the kids whose father put a dog shock collar on them and chased them around the house. I can imagine that they feel an overwhelming helplessness and the instinct to look away. And so they want those of us in the frontline jobs to hold on to their guilt and anger, their sadness about the state of our society and the intense cruelty that lives in some people. So we do. I get that. And I'm proud of the people I work with, and proud of the jobs that we do together. I just wish that sometimes what the rest of the world got to see was the good, instead of the bad.