I came across this story a few weeks ago, and it struck a chord deep inside me. The story reminded me again of how poorly we treat our children. We constantly state that children are the future of our nation and the world. However, we never put the proper amount of funding and care behind those words!

Those of us who write and edit in the Clan Short Universe are constantly being asked, "Can things really be that bad?" Unfortunately, we answer every time. "Things in real life are far, far worse than anything that we have written and or will write. Man's inhumanity towards man knows no bounds when it comes to inhumanity against children!

Unfortunately, the stories about children being warehouse in Children's Homes, Orphanages, and Group Homes are an unfortunate fact of life. The system that is supposed to nurture and give children an opportunity for a new and better life is gamed against that! With all of the children who desperately need a new life are denied not only that but they are inevitably harmed by the system that is supposed to protect and help them. You would think that with the thousands, if not millions, of children being housed at taxpayers' expense, the system would be doing everything in its power to find forever homes for those children. Unfortunately, in a lot of cases, the so-called system does exactly the opposite!

One of the craziest regulations that I have come across is the requirement that each Foster Child has their own room. It doesn't matter if the possible Foster Family has their own children stacked like sardines in a can. While on the surface, this requirement seems to make sense, in reality, it vastly limits the number of families that can become Foster Parents. However, that isn't my only problem with that regulation; it requires yanking a kid out of their current "home" where they are either completely isolated or crammed into dormitories with three in a bed and then dumping them in a room by themselves, further isolating them and compounding their trauma.

As terrible as all that sounds, my reason for writing this rant is a lot different and actually has some positivity at the end.

Now, onto the real reason for this rant:

Through no fault of their own, most orphans end up in a Children's Facility with little or no clothing other than, in most cases, the clothes on their backs. However, clothing is not the only thing they are usually lacking. For reasons unknown, in most cases, the children are not able to bring the things that give them comfort and remind them of home. I am not going to cover the greed and outright criminal negligence that causes orphans to arrive at their Foster Homes with only the clothes on their backs and, if they were lucky, a change of clothes, usually in a garbage bag. Why a garbage bag, well, that is a very good question that I don't have an answer for except for greed and lack of caring. In fact, that question is what prompted this rant, and here is the story that started it:

opinion-along-came-paul-how-a-10-year-old-foster-child-inspired-the-buddy-bag-program

MFP VOICES

Opinion | Along Came Paul: How a 10-Year-Old Foster Child Inspired the Buddy Bag Program

by Rex Wilgus

December 24, 2024

"I did not like the symbolism of these boys and girls having to put their belongings in a garbage bag—as if their lives were garbage. I told them having their own suitcase would give them a sense of pride and would boost their confidence going into a strange home," Rex Wilgus writes. Photo courtesy Rex Wilgus

Each year around this time, I am visited by a ghost from a Christmas Past. It's a long story, but basically, this ghost is the memory of a boy—let's say his name is Paul.

This young fellow had an inexperienced and somewhat newly-minted foster father: me. That was back in the days when I thought what these kids needed was love. I have since come to learn differently.

Paul arrived at the end of summer. Because of his past and certain things that had happened, he needed placement in a home with a single father, which is how he found his way to me.

My Amory, Miss., household consisted of me and my adopted son Landon, a teenager with autism. Paul, 10 years old at the time, came in the evening, his social worker having brought him. The social worker gave me a copy of his papers. Landon and I helped transfer a few bags from the back of the social worker's car. When she left, Paul sat down on the sofa and burst into tears.

Some of these kids have been through the wringer. Removal from your home, from your parents, your brothers and sisters, your friends, your school, your routine, your life, the foods you like to eat, from everything comforting and familiar is traumatic. The trauma is magnified when you are left at a stranger's house in a strange town with strange people you don't know.

Paul sat on the couch and sobbed, hugging his arms to his chest, his gaskets blown, circuits overloaded, scared, frightened, in a complete misery. I sat beside him and told him it was okay to cry. That it was “better out than in." That he would be okay.

When the worst had passed, I asked, "Do you need a hug?" He did not answer. Instead, he leaned his head against my shoulder. Landon invited him to play on the Xbox. Paul wiped his eyes and hurried off. In five minutes, he was carrying on with my son as though nothing had happened. They became fast friends.

'More Than I Could Give'

The year that followed was difficult. Paul was from a large family and missed his siblings terribly. But visits with his family were few. Over the Easter holiday, we had arranged for a visit with his mother.

Dutifully, I took him to the restaurant where we had agreed to meet, but she did not come. It was not the first no-show. Many promised phone calls never materialized. It was upsetting, but Paul tried very hard not to show it. For days afterward, however, his behavior would be off the rails.

Some of his siblings had been placed in other foster homes and would soon be adopted. Paul's social worker and supervisor came by the house one day and asked me if there was any chance I might want to adopt Paul. The months had been spinning by, and he needed permanent placement.

I loved Paul and would have been happy to adopt him, but I was already in my mid-50s and not getting any younger. I had been through one adoption and had not planned on doing another. As a single dad in a single-income household, my resources were limited.

Paul wanted brothers and sisters his own age to play with, I knew that. And he was one of those boys who needed a mother. Mostly, I knew he was not happy. He never once complained, but his unhappiness was plainly evident.

After being a foster parent, Rex Wilgus started a Buddy Bag Program at his local church to provide suitcases for children in the foster-care system. Photo courtesy Rex Wilgus

I knew most of Paul's bad behaviors stemmed from the trauma. I took him to weekly counseling sessions and worked diligently with the therapists and teachers to help him, but the trauma ran deep. The fact of the matter was, he needed more help than I could give. He was at an age where his life could be turned around with the right guidance and environment. I wanted to provide those, but knew I could not.

Christmas came and went. On New Year's Day, we helped Paul gather his things so he could be transferred to a new home. It was one of the worst days of my life. I wanted to change my mind and spare him (and myself) the pain, but, among other things that year, my Christmas present to him was to let him go.

When I got home, I went to my bedroom and cried.

Starting the Buddy Bag Program

Several years later, I got up after Mass at my local church, St. Helen's in Amory, and I talked about how foster children show up on your doorstep with their belongings in a trash bag because they don't have a suitcase; Paul was a case in point.

I told them I was starting the "Buddy Bag Program" to collect suitcases for them. I confessed that I did not like the symbolism of these boys and girls having to put their belongings in a garbage bag—as if their lives were garbage. I told them having their own suitcase would give them a sense of pride and would boost their confidence going into a strange home. I told them we would attach a little teddy bear to the suitcase so that the child would have something friendly to concentrate on.

The members of my church responded with an overwhelming number of suitcases and bags, which the priest and I took to our local Child Protective Services office.

One of the social workers there remembered me from my days as a foster parent. I told her I often thought about Paul and hoped he was doing well. She told me he was doing just fine, was getting good grades in school and was very happy.

I learned his new mother was a mental-health professional who knew all about raising children coming from a background of trauma. She knew how to give him the things I could not.

With the holidays now fast approaching, I am haunted by this ghost from a Christmas past—and all the other ghosts and the other Christmases with their challenges and heartbreaks and sad stories.

I pray all the Pauls of the world have a merry Christmas. And I pray that the men and women who foster these children and do their best to provide as merry a Christmas as possible are blessed abundantly for their kindness and for their good hearts.

These children need love. Not just during Christmas but every day afterward. But love is not enough. They also need respect. When life has treated you so disrespectfully, respect says that you are worthwhile and have always been.

Respect says that although some people in your life have treated you disrespectfully, not all people in your life will. It gives these children hope that life can be different. Will be different.

Isn't that the message behind the babe in the manger? We are both loved and respected enough that salvation is possible. And we can pay that grace and kindness forward, to the best of our abilities.

Life can be different. Will be different.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone.

This MFP Voices essay does not necessarily represent the views of the Mississippi Free Press, its staff or board members. To submit an opinion for the MFP Voices section, send up to 1,200 words and sources fact-checking the included information to voices@mississippifreepress.org. We welcome a wide variety of viewpoints.

Author's Note: