Let Your Sins Be Your Own

I am struggling this afternoon. Struggling to swallow back the lump in my throat as I empathize with a fifteen year old girl, who late yesterday afternoon called my daughter crying, and asking if she and her dog could stay at my house for a while.

I said yes, of course, especially after finding out that her mother had been arrested for beating on her and her brother.

When I pulled up to her house, she stood outside with her brother and the dog, "Rose".  She hugged her brother and then got into the car and just let the tears go, hugging Paige, and sobbing.  Rose was delighted to be going for a car ride, and so it eased a bit of the tension.  I held back tears, Paige held back tears, and when I glanced over at Tony, I saw him swallow a lump in his throat.

After some time, allowing them to have space, "Mabel" came downstairs and I asked her what happened.  She said it started as an argument over who ate what food.  Her mom had bought food, and was mad because someone else in the house ate it.  Denial from Mabel, anger from mom, pushing, shoving, breaking up the fight by Mabel's brother, blood, police, arrest, Rose and Mabel at my house.

As sad as I am for her, I am also so grateful that I can help, that my children and I are very close, and that we can offer some stability and sense of family to her and Rose.

Paige has a small band of friends --- 4 or 5 girls that are all pretty smart, funny and kind --- last night, two more of Mabel's friends showed up at my house.  They all hugged and offered support and love and kindness.  I was privileged to witness it.

Today has been difficult.  This girl has parents that aren't really parents.  They are stuck in the muck of their own personal drama, and their children are suffering for it.  Neither child wants to go back to live with the mom, Mabel doesn't want to live with her father.  Both of her parents, now divorced, are physically abusive.

What the hell?  I am so very concerned, and I can only imagine how overwhelmingly emotional all of it is for Mabel.

I want to turn out the lights, slip under the covers again, and cry.  But I won't.  I'll support her, I'll offer help, and I'll feed her whatever the hell she wants, even if it's "my" food.

That argument over whose eating whose food? A flipping excuse to be abusive.

People are fucked up.