Lunch with TJ

     6:00 AM. I crept stealthily up the stairs to wake TJ for school. Down the hall the baby had just fallen asleep after a restless, fussy night. I cracked TJ's door. The light from the hall poured into the bedroom. I peered around the door in time to see her lurch up in her bed, cast off her covers, leap to the floor, and begin jumping up and down on her tip-toes,
     "I didn't sleep at all last night, Mama! I couldn't stop thinking that this is the day you are going to come to school and eat lunch with me!"
    The baby began crying. "Shhhh. Whisper, please. The baby is sleeping. We can talk down stairs." I tried my best to subdue her enthusiasm, but she bounded out of her room and down the stairs talking in full boom all the way. I may as well have told the north star not to twinkle as told TJ to calm down. During the next 30 minutes of twirling and leaping, she managed to get dressed, brush her teeth, comb her hair, find her backpack, put on her coat, get out the door, and beat her sister to the bus stop.
     At 10:15 baby Dani and I arrived at the school amid myriad of other  moms, dads, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who had come to share Thanksgiving lunch with their kindergarten children. Class by class, the K5'ers paraded past the large crowd. When the searching eyes of the children caught sight of their family they grinned, waved, and waited for the signal to launch out of the line toward their kin. The adoring families eyes were soon diverted from their little ones to the bobbing of a blond head which rose rhythmically above all the others.
     "MAMA! MAMA!" TJ's voice echoed in the concrete hallway. "MAMA!"  The eyes of everyone were searching for the mama of this loud little girl who, unlike all the other good boys and girls, couldn't wait patiently.
     For me to acknowledge TJ would avert the gazes of the crowd of relatives, all the anxious children, the weary teachers, aides, staff, and volunteers toward me . . . the 59 year old, gray haired grandma, holding her her grand baby in her arms. This old woman would answer to 'Mama.' Questions will get bantered back and forth, quizzical looks arrowed toward me, and polite, obligatory nods of 'how nice that you have had a late in life child."
     I held Dani in the air for TJ to see and as inconspicuously as possible, hollered out, "Hi TJ." All eyes trained on me. "That's my daughter." Then the looks started and TJ continued with "Dani's my niece!" adding more confusion to everyone's already mystified minds.
     Soon, a tsunami of children came rushing forth. TJ grabbed my hand and drug me to the closest lunch line. The length of the winding line only added to my distress. TJ began jumping out of line and bringing her classmates over to me. "Brandon, this is my Mama." "Hey Karras! This is my Mom!" "Mama, this is Jordan," and on and on it went until I had met every kindergartner and a few parents as well. Somewhere in the long line of introductions it dawned on me that TJ is proud of me. It doesn't matter to her that I am older than all the other parents and older than some grandparents.
     All my pride was put to rest. I smiled at the lunch ladies and said 'yes, TJ is my daughter.' We found a crowded table on which to feast and the introductions continued, but I didn't blush any longer.
     TJ is proud of me.

Calling It Quits

     Sitting sideways in the old parson's bench, Bob stares thoughtfully out the window. His gaze caught by goats grazing lazily in the warm Indian Summer sun and the peacock strutting at chickens who ignore the glare of a hundred green eyes. "We just have to endure the next eight months. What else can we do?" After a year and a half our hopes for Anna turned to frustration and frustration has melted into resignation. We are left with a myriad of questions of which the two most burning are 'why' and 'why not.'
    Three years ago Anna appeared in my middle school math class, a vibrant 12 year old girl with a slight build and a broad smile. She befriended everyone and easily shared herself and her story to all who would listen. She like many of the other children, had been removed from her home by CSS, but her story had a disturbing twist. When she was three years old she had been adopted out of 'the system' and now, as a young teen, her 'parents' were giving her back to the state. I often heard her say she wanted a different life, to make something of herself, to prove everyone wrong, to become someone. She broke my heart.
     For months Bob and I prayed and discussed what role, if any, we should play in Anna's life. Taking on a teenage girl, possibly adopting her, would change our future and retirement dramatically. When all was said and done, the few years we could give Anna weighed heavier than the freedom of our retirement years. God, we were sure, would have us bring this young girl into our family.
     We were ecstatic over the possibilities. Anna would explore places she had never thought of going. Her front teeth, which appear to travel in opposite directions, and the overbite which accompany them would be brought into alignment. She would meet educated people who speak of ideas and view the world very differently. Anna was going to be submerged into the middle class.
      Anna, now 15, is happy she lives with a white family. 'There's not so much drama with white people.' and her friends think she is rich.  She has traveled to Pensacola, Charleston, Johnson City, Disney World and camped in the mountains and on the beach. She has taken our correction of her English well. She works hard at enunciating the consonants at the end of her words and self-correcting her 'I be ....' and 'he do...'
     But she hasn't made that 180 change she'd declared in middle school. As a second year freshman, Anna is failing her core classes. Her language at school is dis and dat, but mostly fu.... She lies about where she  is and what she is doing. She failed her last drug test and has indiscriminate sex at school. She has one or two girl friends, but her calling list is 90% boys.
     Bob sits sideways in the old parsons bench and wonders what else can we do. Are we of any consequence on her at all or are our prayers and efforts in vain? Can we impact the direction she is taking toward a life of entitlements or will she make something of herself? Will she acknowledge Jesus Christ as her Savior, which she so desperately needs?
     "We just need to endure the next eight months." After some thought Bob hears the Spirit of God; He is not finished yet. Quitting would be denying the power, plan and promise of God. Once again, Bob and I regain focus on the challenge ahead, putting one foot in front of the other.

Five year olds have no concept of time. Yesterday could mean yesterday or last May. Tomorrow might be tomorrow or next summer. Five minutes are equivalent to years; two days are less than an hour; this afternoon is tomorrow after the sun goes down or maybe it was yesterday.
I tried explaining the concept of time to TJ on multiple occasions. "TJ, if you count to 60 that is the same as one minute." With a little help she counts to 60. In my mama-teacher voice I'll extend the lesson and continue with "That's great TJ! Now, if you count to 60 fifteen more times, that will be 15 minutes and the cookies will be done!" Cocking her head, furrowing her brow, and squinting her eyes, she contemplates the idea of 15 more 60's making the cookies ready to eat. "THEY WON"T BE READY UNTIL TOMORROW!?!"
"No, Honey, they will be ready in 15 minutes."
She resigns herself to a "Whatever" and wanders back to watch Dora and the Map climb another hill.

Bob held one corner of the towel with his left hand and with his right he supported the center. Anna clutched the other corner and the two of them faced outward and moved to form two sides of a triangle, My substantive rear formed the third side giving TJ the privacy she needed. I dropped to my knees and simultaneously pulled her shorts and undies off and without a hesitation pulled up the bottom half of her swimsuit. In the same smooth motion, I clasped her t-shirt, pulling it over her head and easily slipped on the top of her tankini. Voila! TJ was ready to attack her first incursion into the Atlantic Ocean!

Anna released her end of the towel and Bob collected it revealing the wide, white beach at the edge of the expansive waters. Nothing could constrain TJ as she ran headlong down the beach into the oncoming waves: arms flailing and legs leaping. Bob, following behind her, raced her to the ocean and scooped her up. When  the water reached knee height he collapsed plunging into the sea with giggles and splashes . . . . And TJ gets her first taste of ocean water.

Meanwhile, back on shore, Anna decided not go near the water - after all 'EVERYONE IS STARING AT ME!' and ' I just spent 45 minutes on my hair!' She opted for dog duty rather than cooling off, and so she wrestled with Big Dog who struggled against her to follow his master into the waves. The tug of war went on for a good while, neither ever gaining the win. Even with Big Dog managing to get wet, Anna was able to stay dry . . . that is until . . . Big Dog sauntered right up next to her to say 'I quit but not giving up' and gave himself a good shake! Anna screamed, Big Dog now dragging his leash behind him, raced toward Bob.

TJ had her first foray into the ocean, Anna got wet regardless of her efforts not to, I found a shark's tooth, which seem to elude me with my worsening eye sight, Bob played the perfect father and Big Dog won. Who could ask for a better day!

Another wonderful and beneficial Sunday service! Aaaahhhh. There is nothing like the presence of God to put the trials of life in their proper perspectives.

After making our way through the after-service crowd in the church atrium, Bob, Anna, TJ, and I head for the parking lot. Bob and I stand beside our cars discussing the trip home and our afternoon
plans. Relieved that there is no need to go to the store or get gas, we each turn toward our respective cars anticipating an easy 30 minute ride home and lunch. As I begin buckling TJ in her carseat I hear Anna shouting "I need to stop at the store!". As I turn to acknowledge her, she puts her hand to the side of her face so no one can see her mouth the words, "I need pads."

I latch the final carseat buckle and can hear Bob's truck leaving the parking lot. I kiss TJ on her forehead, shut her door, and call for Anna. As I open the driver's door I call out for her again and slide into the front seat. No Anna.

"She did not just do this to me! No she didn't!" With frustration dripping from every syllable, I slammed the palm of my hand in to the steering wheel, picked up the phone with my other hand and speed dialed Bob.

Not knowing the righteous indignation waiting for him on the other end of his phone, he answers quite calmly, "Hello."

"Is Anna with you?"

He knows the tone. "What's going on and yes she is here."

"She's with you!?! UNBELIEVABLE! She wants me to stop at the store, get out of my car with TJ in this 98 degree heat and get her things while she just pops in the truck with you and goes on her merry way! Well I'm not doing it!"

Bob pulls the phone away from his mouth and talks briefly with Anna. He gets back to me with the decision that we will all meet up in the drugstore parking lot. He will leave her with me, she can purchase her items and ride home with me. 'Fine' I say to myself, but wonder why isn't he waiting in the parking lot and why am I not the one who gets to go home.

At 15 Anna does not like to do any public thing by herself including shopping. There must be someone with her at all times, because, as is obvious to only her - and every other 15 year old girl - everyone stares at her.

"TJ, do want to go shopping with me?"

"No."

"I'll get you a drink."

"No."

"I'll buy you some candy." Anna is pleading with TJ to accompany her into the drugstore for her small purchase, but is clear that TJ would like to remain cool in the car.

"Anna," I say, "You will just have to do this on your own." She gives a heavy sigh, an audible groan, and shuts the door.

Suddenly, from the back seat an outburst! "I wanted to go with her! Why didn't you let me go!" In my calmest voice I reminded her that it was she who said 'no' and not I. "I did not!" she screams.

"Christina. You need to calm down or you will go to your room a soon as we get home," I say firmly.

"NO I WON'T! I WON'T GO TO MY ROOM!" and with that she begins her loudest scream and kicking the back of the seat in front of her.

I am angry. You don't yell, scream, or defy this Momma! In my anger I fumble to get out of the driver's seat, stomp around the back of the car to the passenger side of the back seat, swing open the back door in a fury, fumble again to get her out of the winding maze of buckles and latches, pull her out of the door and stand her on the pavement looking at me. Defiant, arms locked in front of her,eyes glaring. I square her shoulders toward me and in no uncertain terms say, "You can scream all you want out here! I will not have you screaming in my car!" With that I stomp back to the passenger side, throw open the door and fling myself into the seat.

In the right side mirror I see TJ untangle her arms, wipe her tears away on her fore arm, her nose on the sleeve of her dress and then entwine her arms again. She is going to remain defiant, but quiet.  Keeping my eye on her I watch her peer into the car to see if I was looking and then turn back around again. Soon she drops her arms and begins picking at her fingers, looking around the parking lot and waiting for Anna to leave the drugstore.

I take a deep breath, get out of the car and walk slowly over to her. "TJ. Screaming at me is very disrespectful. You don't always get to do what you want. What if Anna did that every time she didn't get her way?" She giggles at the thought.

"I'm sorry, Momma."

We hug. I buckle her back into her seat and by the time I finish Anna rejoins us.

"What's going on?" Anna asks.

"Just life," and I force a smile.

Another wonderful and beneficial Sunday service! There's nothing like the presence of God to put the trials of life in their proper perspectives

Holy Moley!

TJ and Anna were giving themselves the final inspection before they headed out the door for their first day of school. They parted their lips and studied their teeth for breakfast remnants. TJ wetted her hair to make it straight while Anna added a little more grease to hers. Anna moved into the mirror for an examination of the new, bright red pimple on her nose and TJ did the same.

"Momma."

"What is it TJ?"

"What's this?" She pointed to two tiny brown dots on her neck.

"Those are moles, TJ. Everyone gets those. See. I have some here and here and here."

"Momma, am I turning black?"

Anna was unable to control her laughter and I tried desperately not to embarrass TJ by giggling at her innocent question. Anna could not contain the urge to goad her sister. "Yeah, TJ. I had a mole once. Then I got another, and another and another. Just look at me now!"

"Really?" TJ asked incredulously.

"Really! I looked just like you when I was five."

"Really?" TJ furrowed her brow in deep thought. "No. I don't think so. I think you were born that way and I was born this way. I'm not turning black . . . am I Mom?"

We all grinned and giggled and then the sisters picked up their respective book bags, sashayed out of the house babbling and began their new school year.

Distressed

I read the number of the incoming call - Children's Social Services. Dread.

"Ms. Lillis?"
"Yes"
"This is Miranda at CSS. How are you this evening?"
Irritating niceties. "I'm good, Miranda. What's going on?"

"We have several children that have just come into our custody and we need to find placements for them. There are two sibling groups. One group is a five year old boy, his four year old brother and an 18 month old sister. The five year old tested positive for drugs. The others are two sisters. The older is two and the younger is four months old, in a full body cast in the hospital. She won't be out for a while." She paused. I wanted to vomit. What kind of savage does this to his babies? "Can you help?"

My thoughts were tripping over each other. Will TJ be kind? Where will we put them? How many can we take? Can I handle more children?
"Ms. Lillis," Miranda interrupted my racing thoughts,"You know you don't have to take the whole group . . . if you could help with just one of them . . . ." her voice trailing off, expectations fading.

Our county has only five licensed foster homes. Three - no four of them are full. If Miranda cannot find a home placement the children will probably all be split up and sent to different group homes around the state. Other counties haven't enough homes for their children either and the group homes are full. Emergency shelters are set up to keep children for no longer than a month. As if the eminent separation of the brothers and sisters is not enough, the staff at the homes have instructions NOT to hold or touch the children unnecessarily to keep them from bonding to closely with the staff. Bonding complicates the next transition making it all the more emotionally difficult on the children.

"I'm sorry, Miranda. Bob and I just added our 12 and 24 month granddaughters to our family for an indefinite period of time and we have TJ and Anna. I am so sorry."

Miranda will keep calling til morning if she must, hoping against hope that there is a family that will take one or more of these children.