by Debra Moerke
I met with the judge’s assistant and signed the document giving us the desire of our heart, knowing now with confidence that it was God’s desire as well.
It was 10:45 a.m. I had arranged to be off work for the rest of the day. I hadn’t realized that in less than an hour’s time, my life would change so drastically. I would contact my children to tell them the great news and get to the mall for all the newborn’s needs. Clothes, blankets, diapers, bottles . . . the list started to add up in my mind. I planned to lavish the newborn with everything new, just for her. I couldn’t wait to call Al and the friends who had been praying. I was especially excited for Karen to hear and found myself wishing that I were the one who could tell her in person, mother to mother.
Chapter 19Obstacle Course
I STEPPED OUT OF THE COURTHOUSE and took a long, deep breath of the crisp October air, inhaling anticipation and exhaling all the worry and tension I’d been carrying with me. Courtney was ours! I wasn’t holding her in my arms yet, but the Lord had ruled, and we could take her home.
Flakes of snow drifted through the air as if they didn’t know where to land. It’s just flurries, I thought as bits of white fell onto my lashes. As I raised my hand to brush them from my face, I realized I still carried the stone of hope. I recited the verse, “Be not afraid . . . Only believe.” I do believe, Lord. You have demonstrated your love and shown me your presence in this sad but hopeful story.
I climbed into the truck in as ladylike a manner as I could. My plan was to go to the mission and call family and friends with the good news. I’d pick up our foster children at three o’clock, drive them home, and then race to the mall for newborn necessities. I didn’t know what time DFS would release Courtney, or if it even would be today. Who knew what hoops DFS might still want me to jump through before I could take her home? No matter. I was up for any challenge now. We’d won!
The mission was quiet, with only a few cars in the parking lot when I arrived. Opening the door to my office, I saw the small red light flashing on my desk phone. This may be the news I’m waiting for.
“Hello, Deb. This is Tom at the Department of Family Services. I was asked to give you a call to let you know you can pick up the Bower baby after the office closes at five o’clock today. Wait in the lobby. Once everyone is out of the waiting area, a caseworker will bring the infant to you. If you have any questions, please call the office and ask for me.”
I had known Tom for years. We had joked and laughed with each other on most occasions. His usual friendly lightheartedness sounded cool and stale this morning, but the instructions were clear. I had no questions, and even if I did, I wouldn’t call to ask them. I just wanted to get Courtney home.
By the time I picked up the children and dropped them off at home and raced back to town, the temperature had dropped significantly. I hadn’t changed clothes or grabbed a coat. My mind was focused on what I needed at the mall and then getting to DFS.
When I finished my shopping, the view of Casper Mountain was disappearing behind a curtain of snowflakes. My black pumps left a path of shoeprints across the parking lot as I hurried to the truck with arms full of baby goods. The clock was ticking. I was starting to feel anxious about who would meet me at the DFS office and whether they’d be kind or cold. I couldn’t wait for this to be over and finally be home with Courtney. I pictured myself in my living room next to a cozy fire, rocking Courtney and surrounded by all the children. Suddenly, I longed to have Al home from his business trip.
It was minutes before five when I parked the truck in the lot beside the two-story brick DFS building. Powdery white snow swirled around the few parked cars left in the parking lot. As I jumped down from the seat of the truck and made my way to the front doors of the building, I didn’t feel the cold, only a mixture of joy and anticipation.
Flakes of snow fell from my hair and dress as I pushed the button for the second-floor office. When I stepped from the elevator, I quickly scanned the lobby. Two people were waiting to be helped. One woman stood at the tall counter, speaking to the receptionist. The other was sitting, reading a storybook to a child on her lap.
I spotted a chair in the corner of the room and slumped there, trying to look inconspicuous. It was too late. The receptionist noticed me, and in the middle of talking to the woman in front of her, immediately picked up her desk phone to make a call. The “alert” that I had arrived was now in motion.
The minutes ticked by slowly. At 5:15, the last visitor left, with the receptionist following behind to lock the door. “Someone will be with you shortly,” she announced.
“Thank you,” I said, offering a quick smile. Sitting alone in the lobby, I could see lights being turned off or dimmed on the other side of the reception counter. The office was shutting down. It was time to go home for the day. I wanted nothing more than to get Courtney and go home as well.
Minutes went by, and then two caseworkers entered the lobby, one holding the bundled infant in her arms. I knew the two caseworkers but was not sure how they would treat me. As I walked across the room, they both smiled tenderly.
“She is so sweet,” one commented, as she kissed the infant on her forehead.
“You are going to a very loving home, little one,” the other worker said, as she smoothed the baby’s hair. Their kind words calmed my heart as I held out my arms to receive Courtney.
I tucked the corner of the blanket around her tiny face, kissed her on the cheek, and hugged her close. Looking up at the women to say thank you, I saw tears in their eyes. I began to weep as well, and to my surprise, one of the women embraced Courtney . . . and me. “We want you to know that we are so happy she is going to be with you.”
I was taken aback, considering all that had happened over the past four months.
“Do you have a car seat to take her home?”
“Yes. I have everything I need for her. Thank you.” My heart was full of gratitude. I knew these two women were not responsible for Hannah’s death. They were not the ones wanting to fight me in court. They were women who, much like myself, were heartbroken over what had transpired. They worked for an agency that was set up to support and protect children. That agency was now under scrutiny and publicly criticized. I was not to judge. There but for the grace of God go I. I had made mistakes in life. Some were big ones. God had shown me grace and forgiveness. I needed to show the people at DFS the same.
Riding the elevator to the main floor, I embraced the warm little baby I held in my arms. I couldn’t believe I was really taking Courtney home. We would be able to love, protect, and raise her. I could not wait to introduce her to the children and to Al and share all that God had done.
As I exited the building and heard the door lock behind me, I saw that night had already crept in, and the Skunk Truck was alone in the lot. The caseworkers had gone through a back door, and I saw them drive away. In the short time I was inside, the snow flurries had turned into a blizzard. The snow fell fast and hard and the wind whipped sharply, making it difficult to see. I wrapped Courtney as best I could, thankful she had on a knitted hat, and held her close.
Brushing the snow off the passenger door handle with my bare hand, I pulled the door open and securely buckled Courtney into the car seat. The temperature was continuing to drop, and my legs were feeling the bite of the frigid air whipping around me. As I made my way around to the driver’s side, I couldn’t see my shoes anymore. All I could see were legs, ankles, and then snow. My feet were numb, wet snow dripped down my face, and my hands were icy cold and red. With fingers stinging, I cleaned off the handle of the driver’s door. Stomping snow off my shoes, I hiked up my dress with no attempt to appear ladylike and climbed into the cab. Shivering, I dug into my purse for my keys. My stiff fingers could hardly grasp the right key to put it into the ignition. I needed to get the truck started and the engine warm for Courtney.
When I turned the key, there was no roar under the hood. No knocking and clanking. Just a click.
“No! Lord!
The truck worked fine all day. What could be the problem? Don’t tell me the battery is dead.” I tried a few more times, but with each try, the clicking became fainter until there was no clicking at all.
I remembered turning on the lights as I left the mall. I didn’t remember turning them off once I reached DFS and parked the truck. The short time I was in the building, combined with the cold temperatures, must have been enough to drain the battery.
“Really?” I mumbled to myself. I’d had so much on my mind all day that a little thing like turning off the headlights hadn’t crossed my mind. Now I was stuck in a deserted parking lot in the dark with a dead battery, a winter storm underway, and a newborn sleeping next to me. I needed to think fast.
I’m not one to quickly assume that the devil is behind every inconvenience, but I couldn’t help but feel that he, thwarted at every turn in trying to disrupt God’s plan for placing Courtney in our care, was taking one last stand against me, determined that if he couldn’t keep her out of our lives then he’d work to steal my joy at taking her home. But my God was victorious! Courtney belonged to the Lord and to us, and nothing would steal my joy. I’d face this latest challenge head-on.
There was a hotel down the hill. If I could get the truck to the street and roll it down the hill, maybe it could build up enough momentum so I could pop the clutch, get the engine going, and make it to the hotel parking lot. Someone inside the hotel could help me, and I could call my children to let them know I was okay.
I grabbed a package of flannel blankets out of a shopping bag and fashioned a tent out of two blankets, which I draped over Courtney in the car seat.
“God, please give me strength to push the truck across the parking lot,” I whispered. I knew that once I got to the street, I could jump in and coast down the hill to the hotel.
My sense of spiritual warfare grew more intense. “Satan is still trying to get to us, but he will not win,” I declared boldly to Courtney as she slept. “Jesus is our cover. This battle is already won! Sweet baby, you are in my care and under the protection of my Savior. No man and no power of Satan can harm us now. Thank you, God, for loving us!” I sounded like I was preaching to the universe. Maybe I was. I knew God would provide the strength I needed.
Releasing the emergency brake, I put the truck into neutral, jumped out, and ground my black pumps into the white powder until I could feel the blacktop under my feet. With the driver’s door open, I grabbed the doorframe with one hand and the steering wheel with the other. I gave a deep grunt and then a ninja yell as I put all my weight into pushing the truck forward. Snowy wind whipped at my body, slapping my head, hands, and face. I had to squint to see.
The truck did not budge.
I realized I would need to rock the truck back and forth. My first efforts did nothing, but then the truck began to rock, very slightly. I kept up the momentum, yelling out, “We can do this! God, Courtney, and I can do this!” What a sight I must be. If only there were someone to see me!
Once or twice I slipped, and I had to grab tighter to the steering wheel to keep from falling. I dug in again and continued pushing and rocking. Back and forth. Back and forth. The truck began to move forward. I turned the steering wheel sharply, trying to get the vehicle to turn. It was facing the opposite way I needed it to go, and getting it turned around to head down the hill would be a challenge. Since the parking lot was flat, it offered no help. Finally, with me pushing as hard as I could, the truck turned and headed in the right direction. I pushed it all the way to the parking lot exit. As the truck rolled onto the street, I jumped in the driver’s seat and turned the steering wheel as hard as I could, directing the truck down the hill.
My hands were so numb that I could hardly feel them to grasp the wheel and pull the door closed. The speed of the truck picked up; I would need to go fast enough to try and pop the clutch. If that didn’t work, I would have to roll all the way to the hotel. With no power steering, I would have to pull hard to turn the truck into the parking lot and not hit a pole or miss the driveway entrance. With no working headlights, it was difficult to discern where the road was and where the driveway to the hotel parking lot began.
Courtney slept, unaware of the battle I was going through to get her home. The hotel driveway entrance came up faster than I had anticipated. I grabbed the wheel as tightly as I could and eased up on the brake, pulling with all my strength to turn to the right. The truck bounced hard as the back wheel jumped the curb. Then the truck glided across the hotel parking lot and rolled to a stop halfway between the street and the hotel entrance. I’ll take it! I was happy to be within walking distance of the entrance.
Getting out of the truck, I hugged the hood to keep from slipping and carefully made my way around to the passenger side to get Courtney.
Sound asleep. What a picture of trust she was. Lord, that’s the kind of trust I want to have in you—so filled with faith that I can sleep soundly while you wage battle on my behalf!
I unbuckled the covered car seat and lifted it out of the truck, trying not to wake Courtney. Shuffling through the snow, now more than three inches deep, I couldn’t feel my feet. When I entered the hotel lobby, the two young women at the front desk looked at me in shock. I’m sure I looked like the abominable snowman, carrying a large basket.
“Hello,” I said, trying to sound normal. “My truck’s battery is dead, and I am carrying a newborn. I need help.”
One woman hurried round the desk and guided me to a couch. Brushing the snow off the blanket covering Courtney, she peeked under the flannel tent.
The other woman made her way to me. “You poor thing. Let me brush you off. Would you like some coffee or water or . . . something?”
“Thank you. I need to call my children to tell them why I’m not home yet. I also need someone to jump my truck. Is there someone who could do that for me?”
One of them hurried to the desk and called hotel maintenance. Within minutes, two men arrived. I gave them my keys with one hand and welcomed a cup of coffee from one of the desk clerks with the other. I felt almost foolish as the women commented on how little clothing I had on considering the storm. I didn’t bother to explain how many hours ago I’d first left home dressed for the crisp October morning.
Within thirty minutes, the Skunk Truck was charged, running, warm, and waiting at the hotel entrance. I thanked the wonderful people who had helped me as I strapped in the car seat. My hair was straggly and wet. My feet were still cold, but I could feel the cold now. The heater had been running for at least fifteen minutes, and the cab of the truck was toasty. I sighed with contentment as I climbed behind the steering wheel.
The storm had worsened, but I had headlights and four-wheel drive to get us home. Once again, God had won. We were in his care and under his watch. I didn’t doubt we would make it home.
I thought about the children waiting for us there. The wood-burning stove would need to be lit and dinner prepared, but Courtney would finally be with her new family.
Chapter 20A Tender Hello
AND THEY ALL LIVED happily ever after.
Somehow when I awoke the next morning—Courtney’s first morning in her new home—I felt as if we all deserved a fairy-tale existence for a while. After all, we had endured more than a year of the anxiety of a missing child whom we loved, the horror and shock of her murder, the unsettling news of Karen’s new pregnancy, the indecision over our willingness to take guardianship or adopt, the stress of being pulled into an investigation, the unexpected standoff with DFS that broke our long-held trust of them, and finally the court battle for Courtney. In addition, during the past four months, our family had been torn over my decision to visit with the murderer of the child we’d loved. The previous night’s misadventures with the Skunk Truck topped off the entire ordeal in a battle with nature and mechanics. In short, we’d been through the wringer and I felt ready for a respite.
But life isn’t a fairy tale, and we are not owed blissful happy endings. We are called to run t
he race marked out for us until we are called heavenward, and that, I was assuming, was a long-distance run. Now I had a grieving family to shepherd through an adjustment and healing period, and two foster children with needs of their own.
Happily, the delight of having a newborn to cuddle and care for proved to be a great source of healing for all of us. We realized that Courtney was not a substitute for Hannah. Each one of us still struggled with various degrees of anger and resentment not only toward Karen but toward DFS as well. Only time and the Holy Spirit could bring about any changes of heart in those two areas, but at least everyone was able to voice their thoughts and feelings and be respected for their opinions. Our adjustment went as smoothly as Al and I could possibly have hoped.
Meanwhile, Karen had asked me if I would bring Courtney to visit her. After much prayer, I decided to let her see the baby just once. When Courtney was older, if she requested to meet her birth mother, I would bring her back. Al and I agreed that the children didn’t need to know about the one visit as it would likely upset them all, so I told only a few close friends who would pray for me. Even they were resistant to the idea, as showing any grace to a mother who takes the life of her child is painful. Besides, they knew it would be an emotionally difficult visit for me, and they felt protective. But I knew I had to depend on God to direct me.
The first week of December 1998, when Courtney was about five weeks old, I felt the time was right. The air was frigid and gray clouds hovered overhead, threatening a weather change. As I drove in silence, the wind grew stronger. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I could see Courtney sound asleep in her car seat. Her soft, dark hair peeked out from the front of her pink knitted cap. I’d draped a fluffy lime-green blanket over her, with only her face visible, wanting her to be warm and cozy. I smiled. She was a gift.