I am notoriously bad at picking up my phone. Ask my mom or one of my lifelong friends, and they’ll give you a good eye roll and an account of all the times they couldn’t get ahold of me. But when the number for DCPP flashes on my phone, I pick it up each and every time. It means that there’s a need, it means that there’s a child. So even when I know I can’t take the child, even when I’m out of state on vacation, even when I’m having a family dinner at a restaurant, I pick it up.
We sat at dinner last night when that familiar number flashed on my screen. There was a six year old girl who needed a home. It was an “easy” no. We have our hands full, we don’t have room for a six year old, we’re at capacity by the state’s standards, and we’re out of state for the next week. “Sorry, I can’t take her. I’ll ask around, though.”