by Debbie Campbell

Created on: June 02, 2009

EMPTY CARS

He was four years old when the Social Worker escorted him through our front door. Because I can't reveal his name along with his story, I'll call him Adam. Scared and unsure of where he was, Adam hid behind the social worker slowly peaking around her to get a quick glimpse of what we looked like. Adam's big brown eyes held a true pain; they looked at my husband and me as we tried to gain his trust with a smile. What I witnessed that night will haunt me until I leave this earth. Adam's tiny body was covered with sores from the body lice that mercilessly embraced him, the soil-stained diaper he wore hung below his knees and revealed the lack of care he had been given, and the t-shirt he wore couldn't hide the truth of his malnutrition as his tiny ribs pressed against it.

My husband and I knew this would be the beginning of a long journey just trying to earn Adam's trust would be a task in itself. We wanted to give him the opportunity to feel what it was like to truly be loved. Questions raced frantically through my mind, not patient enough to wait on the answers I wanted to know the truth I wanted to know what this little boy had gone through; I, was mad.

Adam was reluctant to leave the social worker, so my husband pulled out a few toys left over from some of our other foster children, and Adam began to play without hesitation. This gave the social worker an opportunity to let me know what was going on with him. As my husband entertained Adam, the social worker and I left the room and she began to explain Adam's story, my heart was not prepared for what she told me about this precious little boy in the next room.

Adam is no stranger to the foster care system the social worker began, We were called when a police officer found him in the car with a relative pulled off of the main highway. She continued, he had been in the car for hours we're not sure how many, but this relative had passed out behind the steering wheel due to overdose on drugs. My heart sank as I listened to her explain the horrific details. The temperature was in the 90's, he was soaked from head to toe with sweat, and was hoarse from the screaming that must have taken place throughout the hours of being alone. The doors were locked and windows had a slight opening, that may be the only thing that saved his life. The tears began to flow down my cheeks. I couldn't imagine that precious little boy in the next room having to be this

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