The Good Judge

GUEST BLOG by Rachel McClenahan

I walked into a judge’s courtroom today and saw fifteen faces looking up at me.  They were waiting for the judge to enter, silently seated in two rows.  Seven children were among the group, one girl with two red bows in her curly black hair.  But today wasn’t her day – it was Jacob’s.  His adoption was being finalized today. 

I took my seat in the back as a mere observer today.  I saw the adoption worker and foster care worker interact with the family.  One of them scooped up the young girl with bows, who explained to the worker who everyone was – grandma, grandpa, aunts, and cousins.  Not quite
able to pronounce yet, her words slurred together. 

The officer came in. “All rise,” and we stood.  The judge came in. “You may be seated.”  He ruffled through his papers.  “May I have the orders?”  The adoption worker handed him the documents, and the adoptive parents were asked to come forward with their son, Jacob*.  Jacob is a four-year-old African American boy with a shaved head and a smile so big his eyes squint to almost nothing.  In their seats were his five new siblings and one foster sister, the girl with the red bows. 

The judge asked for the workers to share their story with the family.  The family was given a chance to speak.  Jacob sat on his mother’s lap and rubbed his dad’s back.  The judge shared some words, thanking the parents and giving his sentiment on the difficult road that had proceeded this day.  He asked Jacob how old he was and Jacob struggled to find the right amount of fingers on his hand.  “I’m four!”  He smiled.  Another boy in the courtroom was whining, trying to get out of his mother’s arms.  “Does that boy want to run around?” asked the judge to the mother.  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”  “Go ahead and let him run.  Just watch that he doesn’t bump his head on anything.”

The judge signed the paper, declaring the parents were now the full legal parents of little Jacob.  Jacob smiled as the judge gathered him in his lap for a picture.  The judge, in his long black robe, stood beside the parents and the entire family for a group picture in front of the courtroom.  As the judge took Jacob from his arms to put him back down, the girl in the red bows came close for her turn to be picked up.  The judge took her in his arms.  Her mother looked on and smiled, “When we got her, she didn’t want to be near men at all!”  When it was time to go, red-bows wouldn’t let go of the judge.  Her foster mother assured her that her adoption would be finalized in the near future and she would be back to see the judge again.  Meanwhile, I was taking a picture of Jacob.  His smile really is four times bigger than his eyes.  He understood in some way, I think, that his life was changed today. 

I’m starting to think about what it means for me to be adopted into the kingdom of heaven.  I think for now, I understand it as much as a four year old would.  All I know is that I’m taken care of and my life is changed.  And I’m a bit like red-bows, not wanting to let go of the Good Judge who will hold me in his arms some day soon.  Thank you, Jacob, for letting me be a part of your big day.

*Not his real name.