Home > Today's Christian
> 2004
> May/June
Desperately Seeking Eddie
Thirty years ago, a needy foster child came into our home, stole our hearts, and then was taken away. I've been searching ever since.
Martha Chamberlain
 1 of 4
For more than 30 years I've been searching boys' faces, longing for a spark of recognition. Returning to college ten years ago as an older learner, I noticed a young student slide into a chair next to me. A feeling of familiarity teased me into glancing at him often. Not wanting to stare, I dismissed my initial reaction to concentrate on the professor's instructions.
Maybe it's Eddie. The thought startled me like a chicken bone catching in the throat. I almost panicked. I forced myself to breathe naturally. Maybe it was his hair. His silky blonde head had glimmered with red highlights when the sun caught up with him. In fact, the sun had been the only thing that ever caught up with that 2-year-old foster child that we had welcomed into our home many years earlier. I remember well the social worker's call about Eddie.
"We have a 2-year-old boy who's to be discharged from the hospital. Hmm … scalp healing … asthma … antibiotics … You're a nurse—sounds like a good match." We already had a 2-year-old daughter, a 9-year-old son—and only two parsonage bedrooms, but of course we could take this foster child for a few weeks.
"Martha! Are you Martha?" The professor glared at me, jarring me back to the present. Fifty-year-olds returning to college do have to try harder.
We knew we had become the family Eddie needed.
"You'll be in Group One with Brian and Mark and, uh … " she hesitated and checked the roster. My heart raced. I swallowed hard and tilted my head expectantly toward her. If she said Eddie, I feared I would cry out. Then pointing toward the subject of my reverie, she said, "Mike."
Mike's face was smooth, ruddy, and still boyish. Glancing at him, I recalled our frantic activity with only hours to prepare for Eddie's arrival. My husband Ray and I figured out how to squeeze another crib into the children's room. On the way to the store for more diapers, milk, and vitamins in animal shapes, I told Marcia about her new "brother," while Ray raced to friends who loaned us a highchair and crib.
When I opened the door for the social worker, Eddie marched in first, unafraid. He dropped the brown grocery sack that contained all his earthly belongings. With Marcia as his guide, he scrutinized everything while I tried to concentrate on the medicine dosages and pediatrician's instructions.
When the toddlers disappeared into the bathroom, we found Marcia explaining to her new "brother" that the potty was hers, but he could use "the big one." The social worker told Eddie to call us Mommy and Daddy, and then she left.
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