It was Christmas Day, 1949 when I walked several blocks over to my friend Betty’s house to deliver her a small gift for the holiday. Betty was a classmate living in a home with an older foster care provider, a woman she called grandmother. This was Betty’s fourth or fifth foster home in her young life. I was disheartened when I found Betty, on this special day, not celebrating at all, but scrubbing the bathroom floor. “It’s what I have to do,” Betty told me. “It isn’t right,” I exclaimed to my parents when I returned home. That spring, Betty’s “grandmother” passed away at which point Betty was sent to stay at the Burd School, an orphanage for girls on Baltimore Avenue that would eventually be folded into the ECS family.
I petitioned to my parents to let Betty come live with us. I must have been very convincing, because my parents went through the process of contacting the Burd School to become foster parents. In the summer of 1950 Betty came to stay with us for good.
We need to appreciate more, the people who are receiving our assistance. There is an expectation that people in poverty ought to be grateful for anything they receive. But I feel differently about that. Having witnessed firsthand my foster sister’s experiences I believe we need to continually challenge ourselves to be more thoughtful about how we serve those in need.