Back in college, I wanted to become a child advocate lawyer. I didn’t know what all that entailed, and I certainly didn’t realize the emotional impact it could have on an individual. All I knew then was that I wanted to help children.
While I didn’t become a lawyer of any kind, I never really lost a drive to help children. I’m all about sending shoeboxes off to kids overseas or helping out with a local counseling center’s Christmas drive that gives presents to kids in need during the holidays. But I wasn’t really doing much individual connecting.
To be honest, it’s not overly hard to write a check. It’s clean. It’s convenient. It’s not really messy.
And because of my faith, I don’t think life is supposed to be clean and convenient. I think it’s supposed to be a little messy. Relationships are messy. People are messy. But it’s dealing with the mess that allows us to show love.
So I signed up to become a CASA.
When I explain to people what I do as a Court Appointed Special Advocate, it’s hard to put into a concise statement. I visit my girl, my assignment. I love on her. She’s awesome, and while it’s taken some time, I feel like I’ve built up a good relationship with her and her caregiver. She was in need, and all I want to do every time I see her is tell her how proud I am of her. How proud I am of her high grades in school. Or about how she did so well in an organization competition. Or of her relationship with her caregiver. Or her part-time job.
I can’t express the joy I have at seeing where she was a year ago to where she is today. That girl a year ago is no longer there. The girl who didn’t know why she had to be removed from her home, the girl who was scared and timid and answered all of my questions with one word (if that) is now a vivacious, sparkly-eyed teenager with plans of going to college and a laugh that warms my soul.
That’s why I’m a CASA. That’s what I do.
Of course, not all stories have these happy endings, but I’m glad this one did – and I’m glad I can tell you how well she is doing.
About 15-20 individuals are CASA volunteers with my judicial district – and there are more than double that in cases. CASAs are needed everywhere.
I met with Cindy Murray, the CEO for the Center for Children and Families, which oversees our local CASA, and Chris Ramsey, the then-project coordinator for CASA. I remember walking down a hallway with a series of portraits of children. There were these five black and white photos on the wall of children who were obviously in emotional pain. The first one I noticed was of a teenage girl sitting by a bathroom wall, and she has words written on her bare arms and legs reading, “Forgotten,” “Unwanted,” and “Weak,” among others. Maybe it’s because I remember my own rough teenage years with a great family life, but that picture stuck out to me. What would it be like to go through those emotional years without familial support? How can a teenager get through that alone?
Another picture I was drawn to was of two children, probably 4 or 5 years old, just huddled together, hugging each other. Their eyes were haunted. Their expressions were hopeless.
I just want to help them. I just want to help them all! But I can’t.
I didn’t even have a case yet, and I was already nervous like starting my first day of school. What if the child I was assigned had been so physically abused that he or she had permanent issues? What if it was something so terrible that it made me cry? What if I couldn’t handle this?
“So many people don’t want to help when they hear that we deal with child abuse,” Chris said. “They say they’re too sensitive to deal with that. But what CASA does is allows anyone — regardless of your education or age — to make a difference in one child’s life. CASA allows you to make a difference.”
I can’t save the world. I can’t help every child. But I can help the child who is assigned to me. I can make a difference in that life.
I can do that.
For more information about CASA, please visit http://www.casaforchildren.