This story is rough yet, but I wanted to share it. This way it also puts pressure on me to fine tune it since it is "out there" for anyone to read. I will tell you that it is long, but I hope, thought provoking. I don't know what the answers are to any of the issues I mention, but that there must be answers somewhere because our loving God cares and he catches all of the tears. Why am I not doing anything? I don't know how to answer that. That is why I wrote it....for me. To see the truth in print. To read it again and again until I cannot stand by any longer. I sit in my comfortable home and know that I could call loads of people and tell them I have a need....at 3 in the morning...and someone would come. Who does she have? How does that feel?

The story of a young girl…

    She was small for her age, boney knees and dirty, stringy, unkempt hair along with huge, thick glasses that were always falling down. She desperately needed new glasses, but there certainly wasn’t money for that. Her glasses were a constant struggle. Without them she couldn’t see anything, with them the kids made fun of her because they were so large and thick and always falling off her face. She couldn’t seem to get away from the pain of those glasses.

     On top of that her clothes never fit either and always seemed to be dirty no matter how hard she tried to clean them in the sink with soap. They just wrinkled up even worse and smelled like smoke from her father’s cigarettes or dirt and sweat from several children wearing them over the years. New clothes were also out of the question. Her mom tried to fix her hair, but she was so sick that she couldn’t help often enough. Her mom loved her, she knew that, but she was dying and her dad had very little time for a daughter. He had to work when he found work and that meant travel driving his big old rig. There was never enough money for food so clothes were not even a topic of discussion. Maybe she could find some that had been thrown in the trash at Goodwill. Sometimes she found great stuff. Later, maybe she’d have time to walk the 3 miles to get there. Later, later, later, after she found food for her mom and herself, maybe then. This year she turned 10.

The ferris wheel of life kept going and the days kept moving and now she is 13. Her mom tried to brush her hair into a pony tail today, but it wasn’t really long enough and the rubber band kept breaking. She holds back the tears as she watches her mom try to do things for her. She feels too old to have her mom do her hair, but it’s her way of trying to be there for her and it is what she can do from her bed…well almost do. She tries, but she is so weak. She watches as her mother sinks back into her bed with the dirty sheets. She knows she needs to wash them for her mom, but they are almost out of soap and the water has been cut off once again. She knows her mom is thirsty. She keeps scratching at her throat, but there is no water. How can she get her some water? Will her dad bring her food? He seldom remembers. It’s not that he doesn’t care, he just doesn’t realize that her mom can no longer stand on her own long enough to make it to the kitchen. He’s tired. He’s tired of looking for work, tired on not having any money, tired of not knowing how to help his children and tired of constantly yelling at one of them for getting into trouble. He’s tired of his wife being sick. Why can’t things get better?

      Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow the water will be turned back on and she will be able to get her mom a drink, do laundry and clean the room and her dad will have work. Tomorrow…maybe. Marie watches it all and carries the weight of it all. She tries to do well in school, but she is always tired and always hungry and has to move around to keep her stomach from growling. If it growls loudly like it usually does then the kids will make fun of her all the more. It’s hard to try and be invisible. It takes everything she has to try. Today staying awake seems to be the biggest challenge. Last night after her parents were sleeping she crept out to walk to Goodwill. It took a long time in the dark and after she got there she found nothing but an old tennis shoe without a match and a dirty coat for a toddler. No such luck tonight, but she was hopeful that she would find some leftovers at a restaurant only about a mile away. Late at night she could usually find a few things to tide her over until her dad went to the store... if he went. This part of her trip was a success. She found 3 loaves of bread just barely starting to mold and an almost full plate of lasagna. There were a few other half eaten items and fortunately they were in leftover type containers as well. It seemed like you were really poor if you had to eat the food just dumped in the trash and that just wasn’t her. She wasn’t that poor.

     What did the teacher say? Why was she staring at Marie. “Were you listening, Marie, or just day dreaming again?” Marie didn’t have an answer so she was sent out to the hallway for the rest of class while the kids snickered and pointed. As the kids file out the door several laugh. Several sniff to show they don’t approve of her and many just stare and point and huddle to whisper. Cheryl just stood in front of her with a smug look and said, “Looks like Smelly Marie is too stupid to even listen in class. Maybe you’re just too smelly to think.” Today it was more than Marie could take. She was tired and hungry and she knew too well that she smelled. She backed up and punched Cheryl in the mouth. Cheryl, in her beautiful new fall outfit fell to the floor screaming with blood starting to trickle out of her lip. Marie didn’t mean to hurt her, but she just couldn’t deal with it any more.

The story continues on and on and Marie becomes angrier and angrier. Words become her defense for her shame, inadequacies and fears. Her mother dies in that dirty house as there was no money for cancer treatment and no one knew how to work through the system to get help. Marie continues to live with her father and brother. Her oldest brother ran off and joined the navy and no one had heard from him in 2 years. Her other brother had turned to drugs and the police were involved on many occasions. Long distance trucking picked up and her dad had work more often than not, but that left her to take care of the small shack they rented and her brother. Her dad spent any extra money on booze to take the edge of the pain off. Eventually Marie dropped out of school and when the landlord kicked them out and she ended up in a homeless shelter. The volunteers and other residents tried to help in their small way, but everyone seemed to be on her back about something. Why was everyone always on her back about something. They were always telling her what to do and she wasn’t used to anyone telling her what to do. She was still made fun of for something or another, but it was just their way to cope with their own struggles.

Now this girl is 23 and pregnant. This is both a burden and a joy. Once the baby is born she is elated to have something to actually call her own and yet the baby constantly cries. It seems like just as soon as she gives her a bottle she wants another one. Can’t she just shut up for one minute? Between the temper fits and the many times she puts the baby in the corner of the room so she can escape to the back of the shelter for some peace, CPS is called. She is told she doesn’t hold the baby right, seldom gives her a bottle, screams at her constantly and leaves her alone with no one for hours at a time. She disagrees, she only walks away when she needs to get her thoughts together and the baby gets enough food, she just screams constantly. Why is CPS now taking away the only thing that really belongs to her? What is really hers if her baby isn’t? She honestly doesn’t remember. Screaming? Well, yes, but everyone screams here. She’s tired and alone and doesn’t have any friends. How could the system take away the only thing that she calls her own. Now she is angry and alone. Her father is now dead, there a few relatives and the ones that are there don’t care or have their own problems with the law or CPS. One brother lives across the country and doesn’t want to keep up with his past and this includes his siblings. The other brother is still into drugs and only wants to be around his sister when she has money that he can burn. Who else is there? No one, Well, there are a handful of men who seem to care. At least long enough to get what they want. They always tell her they love her and will take car of her and they make her believe it because she desperately needs to believe it, but they never mean it.

Now a stranger holds her precious beautiful baby. The caseworker tells her the family is wonderful. What does that mean? Why are they wonderful? Why does everyone kick her when she’s down? Why is she not wonderful? She tries to solve the problem the only way she knows how. She screams and yells and threatens everyone. It doesn’t work. It never really did, but it is the only coping mechanism she knows. What do you think now about this birth mom with her baby girl in foster care? She has no skills to raise this child and she also never had a chance. She needs a mom even at 23. She needs someone to love her and hold her when she cries. She needs someone to hold her hand and show her a better way. She needs a place to come home for Christmas. She needs rest. She needs someone to be patient. Habits are hard to break and her attention span is short.

Who will be that person? Who has the time? Who has the patience? Who is willing to step outside of their safe Christian circle to take care of a rough, foul mouthed little girl in a woman’s body who needs so very much? Every family has a story. You cannot possibly judge without walking a mile in their shoes and yet we do. We judge while we sit in our nice houses, surrounded by our loving, families, with our giving friends always ready to lend a hand when we need help. Few of us have been through what she has and even fewer want to associate with someone like her. What would your friends think if you were with someone who was dirty and cussed easily and chose poor friends? What would that do to your children? We mustn’t expose them to this we say to each other…or should we? Should they know the hurt and pain of others? Should they know that choices in life can alter where we are? Homeless? Without friends and a support system? What about those who feel like churches are just a crutch? What about the body coming together to be there for each other? What about those who turn away because they have been burned? What about their need? Their unfulfilled need to be accepted and not hurt? By the way, this story is real. It has details added to it, but the basic facts of the story are real. The is a real girl (woman in terms of age, girl in terms of needs) with a child in the foster care system. What will you do for her? I am NOT asking because I am doing something about it. I’m not, but I hurt because I’m not. I hurt because no one is and honestly I don’t think any of us know how to help. Not really because it requires way TOO much…That is hard for me to swallow to know I will stand back and watch and pray, but not act. All fingers are pointed to me. I just wanted to tell the story. This one hits way too close to home for me.