Standing Witness

Today, I played a small role in a big event.

Long story short: last summer, my friend JK adopted four kids - as a single mother. Four siblings, actually. J, S, A and R. Over the course of the last year, I've gotten to watch as they became more and more of a family. I've spent time with the kids both in and out of church and have gotten pretty attached to them. There's an earlier post, , where I talked about going to R's school for the 'bring your dad/uncle/brother/male family friend' to snacktime.

It's a powerful thing she's done. A powerful statement about who she is and what she wants to do with her life. She's a social worker for CPS, which means she deals with hurting kids all the time. I've watched her play Aunt to about half the kids at the Well. JK is a woman with an endless capacity for love and an iron will.

Today was the connsumation hearing for the adoption. JK had asked that as many people who could be there. Dad and I went; it took some wrangling, but we both managed to get the time off and get Mom situated enough she didn't need us for the afternoon.

When I first set out to write this blog, I figured I'd say something like 'today I say a family being created', but that's not true. They've spent the last year creating their family, and JK spent years before that preparing to have a family.

Even saying that today made it 'official' isn't right, because what law or proclomation or signature can make real what already exists? It can merely acknowledge, through ritual, what is already there. During the proceedings, JK accepted parental rights and responsibilities for the four kids, but - she'd already done that, long ago. She's been their mother for a year now. They call her 'Mom' and they've been using her name.

All the judge could do today was acknowledge what all fifty or so of us who came to support her already knew.

Yes, I did say 50 or so. Dad and I weren't the first or last to arrive, and as we sat in the chairs set aside for fat people (comfortable armless chairs set against the wall), people kept arriving. A few here, a few there - more and more people trickling in to be a part of the legal ritual.

People do love their rituals, don't they? We have rituals for almost everything. Physical expressions for abstract concepts, rote routines created to symbolize and commemorate moments and events and milestones. Rituals permeate our culture; we're fascinated by them, both the ones we understand and the ones we don't. We're flattered and honored when we're invited to take place in them, and we get offended when other people don't take our rituals seriously.

"What we hold sacred gives our lives meaning," - yeah, it's a quote from Babylon 5, but it's been a few posts since I used sci-fi to make a profound point.

Today was a moment, I think, that will define the meaning of 'family' for those kids for the rest of their lives. Even if some or most of the people who came to the courtroom drift away, or they outgrow the memories of today, I think knowing that many people came to support them as they were officially adopted will leave it's mark.

It was an amazing thing.

Small towns in Texas are places out of time, combining hints of modern with the past. The courthouse was no exception; it was beautiful and old and steeped in history. The seats weren't made for people my size, but there were some modern chairs off to the side, behind the jury box, that worked well for it.

The judge walked in and we all stood. When it came time to swear in the witnesses...the judge was flabbergasted that he would be swearing in the entire courtroom. More than fifty people stood, raised their right hands, and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

The attorney questioned the placement agency representative, presented an affadavit from CPS, questioned JK - and then questioned the other witnesses. The rest of us. All fifty of us. We answered yes - JK was the right person to raise those four kids.

Question after question, a ringing, echoing chorus of 'yes' reverberated through the high-ceilinged room, leaving the judge smiling and the attorney grinning. (The attorney had been forewarned about the possible turnout - the judge had not.) The attorney questioned the kids, and then the judge brought them all up to bang the gavel. Each of them got to bang the gavel.

Of course, the youngest banged it the loudest. *grins* RK is still my boy.

It was over faster than I thought it would be, but I think the statement was made - no matter what happens, JK and her kids won't be going it alone. They have a whole community behind them, willing to be there for them and with them as they go forward, officially a family.

One saying I've heard all my life is "you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends," and the older I get, the more I think that's a lie. JK chose her family - and the rest of us chose to be her family, too. Families stand together and stick together.

Friends, you can walk away from. Family, you can't.