Justice. Justice is a word those of us in the foster care community hear often. We strive to make sure the children in our care get it. We long for their lives to be enriched and protected by it. We cling to it when there seems to be nothing else to cling to. We cry when the system fails and there is no hope in sight. Sometimes justice prevails and other times it crashes and burns and leaves everyone and everything in its wake.
That is where I am today. If you’ve read The Middle Mom, you know about Kee Kee (not her real name): the precious 22 month old who died as a result of child abuse. Well, as of last week the verdict is in: not guilty. Okay, now I am not saying that I have any idea who IS guilty of this crime, but here’s the thing….Kee Kee is dead. Her broken body is buried in an unmarked grave at the edge of a small group of other little graves. I saw the tiny white casket lowered into the ground myself as I carried the senselessness of the situation on my shoulders.
And now…no one is going to pay for the loss of this child, no one. It’s over: not guilty. It’s over. And yet, a beautiful little girl is dead; the promise and potential for a life of contribution to our world all died with her. Her life was valuable. It was precious. It was irreplaceable. Today I am crying out for Kee Kee. I don’t know what God wants me to do with this situation- but in my heart it is not over…no one may pay for her death, but everyone should know about her and celebrate her life.