"Anna! Come down here. We need to talk." I hollered up the stairs and waited for a response. Anna hesitated. "Yes ma'am." Reluctantly she walked slowly down the stairs and met me at our breakfast bar. Knowing she was in trouble, Anna thoroughly cleaned the downstairs, upstairs, even scrubbed all the bathrooms. She hoped this would ameliorate the inevitable lecture. "Anna," I paused and took in a deep breath, "You have been begging to go to this church for months. You looked up the time the services began. We have had this same conversation THREE times this week about getting up by 9:00 am everyday, earlier if we have harvesting to do." Anna sat on the stool swiveling 90 degrees back and forth, fiddling with her fingers and eyes fixed on the floor. "TJ and I left this morning at 10:15 and you still were not up. I left a note for you to have listed three goals you want to accomplish and to note how you plan on attaining those goals. Let's take a look at that list." Silence. Very quietly Anna responded, "I don't have any goals." I have known Anna for two years and she is right; she has no goals. She dreams about going to college and becoming a pediatrician, but having failed all her core classes and ART tells another story. She was on the school basketball team, but could not stay out of trouble and so was removed from the roster. She reminisces of her days on the elementary and middle school track teams, but lacks the self discipline to do daily runs so she could make the cut. She wants a weave, new clothes, have her nails done, but has not done chores in 8 weeks to earn any money. Frustration painted itself on my face and oozed from my voice. "That's the problem Anna, you have no goals, no passions, nothing interests you. There is nothing you are willing to pursue. You cannot continue to depend on others to support you and give you what you want for the rest of your life. YOU have to work and work hard. YOU have to put gas in your car. YOU have to pay your rent. YOU have to buy your clothes." Anna has a kind sweetness to her that compels people to want to help her. 'I don"t have money for lunch,' she'll say softly and before you know it she has food and money setting before her and she is set. "Why bother to make my lunch when I can get it for free?' Her teachers give her extra points because 'poor Anna is a foster child who has had such a hard life. She will soar if she just had a break.' And breaks Anna has had. She has been given clothes, jewelry, MP3's, PSP, CDs...you name it she'll get and I seize every little bit of it. Is there any good reason why she should have to work... food stamps, low income housing, medicaid. The foster system will get her a car, a laptop, provide housing, pay for college, and more. She doesn't need any goals! As far as she can see down her life's path there is a shortcut - the system or people are there to take care of her. Resignation replaced frustration. Tension released through a very heavy sigh. "Anna, do you have anything to say?" Ever so slowly her head wagged no. "OK. Well . . . I'm done. You can go back to room." She sauntered back, leaving me leaning against the breakfast bar, my elbows on the counter and my forehead heavy in my hands.

Momma Weary

6:20 am and it starts again. "Momma, what's for breakfast?" "Momma, I can't find the remote!" "Momma there is a fly in the kitchen!" "MMMMMOOOOOOMMMMM! I CAN'T FIND MY FLIP FLOPS!" "Momma, can you put my flipflops on?" "Hey, Mom, can I have another snack?" "Look, mom, I have ten fingers!" "Momma, I know how to spell McDonalds. M....O....M. There. I did it." "HEY! Where are you, Momma?" Couple the "Momma" with "Can I help" and "No. I don't want to," by the time 9:00 pm finally arrives, my patience pool is dry. I love being a momma again, but I am a little momma weary. So I cope. I find I linger in the bathroom just a little longer, secretly walk to the chicken coop a little more often, and hope Bob will get home a little sooner.

Take a Leap of Faith!

Take a Leap of Faith!

Never Waste a Crisis

TJ bounded through the back door, throwing her school papers and notes on the kitchen bench. I dreaded telling her she would miss her swim test today and would not be able to sail down the long, curly, blue water slide. "Momma! I'm home!" I cringed at the thought of the conversation we were about to have. Having rehearsed it for the past two hours, I felt well prepared. Her radar honed in on my exact location. "I'm ready for my swim test!" I girded myself. "I'm sorry TJ, but we won't be able to go today, but you..." "NO!" crossing her arms, stomping the floor, and screaming, "You said I could go down the slide today! I DON'T WANT TO STAY HOME!" Hmmmm, I thought, I could pass this off on Bob and he can deal with the fallout. "Maybe you could ask Daddy if he will take you when he gets home." But, thinking again, this would be a good life lesson for her. It's not all about TJ and what she wants when she wants it. Life is full of disappointments, cope. That was really the best option. Never waste a good crisis! I really was prepared for everything . . . except this: TJ bounded through the back door, throwing her school papers and notes on the kitchen bench. "Momma! I'm home! I"m ready for my swim test!" I"m sorry TJ,but we can't go today, but you can take your test on Monday." "Oh. OK." She found the remote, threw herself into the green overstuffed chair and began watching 'iCarly.' Another crisis skillfully averted.

Six Legs

It was nice for a change; TJ came home from school excited about going to her swim lessons. Jordan, my 3 1/2 yr old granddaughter, was joining us at lessons and then for a short swim afterward. TJ was excited to show off her new skills, but she had one warning for Jordan, who only stands to her shoulders: "You can't go out in the deep end, Jordan, because it is six legs deep."

Is That MY Reflection?

I stood in front of the sink staring at myself in the bathroom mirror. Dressed in my pjs, gray hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail, I loaded my toothbrush with a pea-sized dot of tooth paste and looked over. TJ, to my left, loaded her toothbrush with a small dot of toothpaste. I put the toothbrush in my mouth and powered on. I watched the bulge in my check move in circles, side to side, and up and down. To my left I was surprised to see TJ looking up at me with her toothbrush in the side of her mouth moving in circles, going side to side, and up and down. I moved to my front teeth. TJ moved to her front teeth. Again, circles, sideways, and up and down and again, she followed. She continued this parroting for two minutes. I spit, she spit. I rinsed off the tooth brush and she followed. We put our toothbrushes and paste back in their respective places. I cupped my hand under the running water, took a sip and spit again. "How'd you do that, mom?" "I put the cap on the toothpaste and dropped in here, then . . ."NO!" I was interrupted. "No. How'd you do THAT?" It took a minute before I understood that she wanted to know how to cup her hand, catch the water and drink. She had been mirroring every move I made. *I wonder what else she will mirror. Will she reflect my generousity or my selfishness? my piety or my sin? My prayer, is that above all things, she will become my love of God and mirror Him.

Circle of Four

"Momma! Dad!" Anna ran down the hall of East-West Middle School with arms open wide. She latched onto Bob with fervor, putting her head against his chest, "I'm so glad you're here!" I was next for the squeeze, rocking me back and forth, "You really came!" Once unhooked, we followed her into the cafeteria where clusters of parents stood with their blue-shirted children, laughing, hugging, and telling tales. In the midst of all the reunions we formed our own little circle of four. "Anna," I said, "TJ doesn't think your're coming home." This concern of TJ's caused her a lot of anxiety. She had heard of other children being with us and her own half sister left for school one day and never came back. Was this going to happen to Anna, too? "OOOOHHHH," Anna cooed, "I'm definitely going back home. I miss you! . . . but I won't be home until Saturday evening. Is that OK?" "That's OK, but..." and then TJ launched into a litany of things Anna has missed and she deemed important - how to feed Big Dog his Milk Bone, but the little ones don't like them, and her elephant puppet she made at school is purple, and momma's jelly is runny . . . on and on she went, but no one was listening. The evening rambled on with a pot luck dinner provided by the local Methodist churches, praise songs led by blue shirts, and a slide show of all the homes the groups are working on. Finally, an introduction of all the participants and I wondered if it bothered Anna that she was the only African American on the team. The presentation ended and Anna walked us out to the car. We said our good byes and hugged one last time and Anna smiled. "I want to come back next year." I smiled, too.