If I entrust to you one of my most precious possessions….will you watch over her?

         Will you treat her as your own, guide her steps, calm her worries, give her confidence, and tuck her in at night? Will you stand guard as she sleeps, chase away her nightmares, and comfort her if she awakens frightened and alone before the dawn breaks?

          She is leaving, you see…and I cannot go with her.

          I keep telling myself–and everyone else–that this is a good thing. You know how much I don’t want her to be like me. I want more for her than that which I have become. She deserves better than to stay in the same place for the rest of her life…rooted by fears that have no basis in reality…paralyzed by the uncertainty of the horizon and resigned to being alone because she is afraid to take a chance.

         You stood with me…even when I didn’t think that I needed you.

         I could lock everyone out…everyone but you.

         Every time that I pushed you from me…you returned.  When I was strong, it was only because you were there to back me up and give me courage. The brave one that faced the world, fought for her kids, and learned to stand on shaky knees was only a reflection of your presence within. Even now, when the night falls and it becomes so easy to remember all of the things that go wrong…you remind me of all of the things that went right and I am able to sleep in the peace that you bring.

        So please…when she gets on that plane tomorrow…go with her.

        Watch over her as you have done with me and if, for some reason, the skies darken over her and she feels abandoned…remind her that she is never truly alone. Stand with her even when she insists on standing alone. She will, you know…because she is strong…we made her that way.

        Once, long ago, you entrusted her to me. You gave me the chance to teach her, guide her…and love her. Knowing how much you already have resting upon your shoulders, I tried my best not to ask too much of you….but that, like everything else, is now changing. I won’t ask for me….but for her.

       So God,

       If she needs you….and she will….please be there for her.

           arkmomy

         Blame it on that whole ‘daylight savings time’ thing…but I was up way too early this morning. 

        Having made several attempts to ignore my internal clock, I finally caved and got out of bed to begin the usual morning ritual.

       Make bed, punch the button on the coffeepot, let the dog out, brush teeth, let the dog in, grab a cup of coffee, crawl into the shower.  Sometimes, life is all about the routine. 

       It wasn’t until I had started the first load of laundry and was headed out for a morning cigarette that it hit me….shouldn’t the sun be up by now? Poking my head back inside the door, I glanced at the clock on the stove….0415hrs. Nope, no sun at that hour….but the stars were pretty. I saw a shooting star the other nite, so I contented myself by keeping watch for another while finishing my smoke.

      The dog thinks I’m nuts….at least he’s looking at me as if he thinks I’m nuts. He might just be right about that one. Eventually, he gives up on following me around and takes up residence on the bed as if to oversee my progress. Because he actually believes–on occasion–that he’s the one in charge, he puts on a show at being bossy by giving a low growl as I gently move him over a bit to make room so that I can fold clothes.  I am not intimidated….we both know who buys the kibble in this house.

     Seriously! Shouldn’t that sun be coming up by now? Unfortunately….no. It is only just after 0500hrs.

    This whole daylight savings thing really messes with my head. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that they do it on purpose just to drive folks nuts. Don’t they realize that there is an entire segment of society that is so ‘routine-focused’ that even the slightest deviation can cause near panic?

    I find myself watching the clock…

    Okay, so…if this were yesterday, then it would be nearly dawn because the sun is usually coming over the horizon as I drop Jon off at school…but wait…no…maybe it is too early for that because it is usually dark when we leave the house at 0630hrs…but then…the sun would be coming up earlier today so I might not have to use the headlights tomorrow morning and…………aaaaaaargh!!!

     Honestly, I do understand the reasoning behind the history of daylight savings…but seriously, times have changed! Is it really necessary to wonk up my world twice a year over an out-dated custom? Okay, that sounds selfish…it isn’t just about me….but there must be others like me.

    One would think that I’d settle down once the sun came up…but no…

    I’m still watching that stupid clock….and it still doesn’t seem right.

arkmomy

     It is a broken system…nobody could argue that.

     The question is…can we fix it?

     One of the issues that will be set forth in our state elections this year is very close to me. It concerns the question of who should be fit to parent foster kids. It is, in fact, designed specifically to reduce the potential foster parent pool by virtue of the beliefs of a few.

     On one side, we have the Arkansas Family Council. These God-fearing folks would have us believe that nobody outside of the classic definition of ‘family’ is fit to provide love to these kids who so desperately need a place to call home. In the critical eyes of AFC, if you are unmarried or (heaven forbid) gay…you aren’t fit to care for children no matter how financially, physically, or mentally sound you may be.

    On the other side, we have Arkansas Families First. This group maintains that these kids need good homes and that the definition of a good home does not include restrictions on marital status or sexuality. In their opinion, it is more important that these kids have good homes than it is to perpetuate prejudice based on lifestyles.

    So…I have to wonder….What DOES make a good home?

    My own home has never been what society deems as ‘conventional’. I raised my kids alone after the death of my husband. Because I didn’t fit the accepted definition of a ‘proper home’ under our DHS guidelines, I was never eligible to even consider fostering.

    Instead, I took in exchange students and cared for upwards of a dozen friends of my own kids.

    I never minded…in fact, I quite enjoyed it. Chaotic though it was at times, I loved cooking for a large group of kids. I loved overseeing their homework and keeping up with their activities. I loved having to put out air mattresses and sleeping bags when we ran out of beds…and, of course, I loved having the help when it came time for chores. No, it wasn’t exactly what the AFC would consider a ‘family’…but I have to think that the fact that all of the kids called me ‘Mom’ must have meant something. Even though they are grown, they still call me that.

     As if my single life weren’t enough, I don’t go to church. I always encouraged my kids and their friends to explore their beliefs and make their own decisions, but I’ve never felt comfortable in churches. I’ve always resisted having others tell me how I should act or what I should believe. I’d have to credit my own Mom for teaching me to think for myself. The fact that I’ve stood on my own feet for this long is testament to the fact that she must have taught me well.

    So, who is right? What DOES make a good home?

    Does it matter if someone is married or single?

    Does it matter is someone is gay or straight?

    If you ask any of the kids in my life, they will tell you that none of that matters. To them, a good home means having parents who love you, teach you, help you grow, and encourage you to become who you were meant to be. It is just a shame that the AFC doesn’t ask kids…they might be surprised at the answers that they receive.

     Now that my own kids are practically grown, I’m too old to fit the guidelines for foster parents. Even if this law is changed to allow unconventional families the opportunity to foster kids…I couldn’t do it because I’m over the age limit. The only problem with this rule is that, while I have gotten older, I haven’t lost my ability to love or my enjoyment of having the opportunity to nurture kids and watch them develop.

    I have to believe that there are younger people like me out there. At least…I hope there are….and I hope that they show up at the polls on election day to stand up for these kids who need good homes.

arkmomy