Today

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This is the world's tiniest dining room, located at # 9 in the house of kj and JB.

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After my illustrious weekend return to Provincetown, I am home for three days of work before I start A THREE WEEK vacation that I am not able to comprehend is really going to happen. What if my Mother gets sick? What if there is a huge crisis with a client? What if Jess needs me?
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That is my stubborn mind spinning. The reality is that things are looking good for this:
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I had a big meeting today. I've been worried about three of my clients: children, ages 4, 5, and 6. I have written already about "Angelina." They were removed from their Mother's care because of neglect and something has happened to Angelina that I will not write about here, but it is something unimaginable done over time to a 3 year old child.
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Her brother, Alex," age 6 has been in three foster homes in one year. He is a very very bright first grader who held it together until two months ago, when the foster family he shared with his little brother felt that they could not handle him.

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I see Alex one a week, since kindergarten. Always I ask him how he is and always he says "fine." He says 'fine' so often I tell him I earn a nickel every time he says it and I tell him I have enough money from that alone to go on vacation. We laugh about it.

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But when he got pulled from this last foster family, his emotional reserves got depleted. Alex has been acting out, having temper tantrums, crying and kicking and screaming. I am telling his new foster family that he is not being oppositional, because that's not what it is. He is feeling terrible about himself. Something is being triggered to the point that he cannot calm himself. How could he even think about fitting in to a new family when the last two have rejected him, when his Mother has abandoned him?

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I tell his new foster mother, who is angry at him, "If a baby cries, you comfort the baby. When you comfort a baby, the baby learns how to be soothed. This is what we have to teach Alex."

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I am telling you all this because today I attended a meeting with the Father of these three children. He speaks only Spanish and I don't, but there were Child Protective social workers and supervisors and his girlfriend all present, because this Father wants custody of his children. He cries when he asks me what actually happened to Angelina and how he should help her. He listens while I tell him that Alex is going to need special help to get through trusting again, that we must proceed slowly with Angelina, that very horrible people made a 'game' of what they did.

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He has faithfully shown up at state supervised visitations for six months now. He works as a cook and he is poor. And he loves his children.

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"Take Alex first," I say. "He has not bonded with this new foster family and take him so he is already with you when he starts second grade."

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"Take J. next. He thinks his foster mother is actual Mother; he may have trouble leaving her but it is good you know her from church. Take a couple of months to visit J. at her home, to have him for a weekend while he is still living with her. We'll make sure he knows he will still be able to see her when he lives with you."

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And Angelina....I have thought so much about this. She has been with one foster Mother for two years now. As fate would have it, her foster Mother now has a terminal illness, but she is still mostly active and she loves Angelina. She has asked to have her over Christmas, no matter what happens about custody, because she has promised to take her on vacation.

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I provide details about Angelina. "Her foster Mother wants to stay in her life. Are you okay with that?" I ask her Father. Yes, he appreciates what she has done and he wants to meet her and will follow her routine and suggestions.

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I suggest that Angelina's transition extend over five months, that she stay in her foster family during that time, while she gradually spends planned time with her Father and her brothers.

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I ask the girlfriend if she is in this for the long haul. I ask if she knows how to braid hair and how to match clothes and sneakers, because Angelina loves the way her her foster mother helps her look. The girlfriend smiles, she says, "Yes, I can do that." I smile too.

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They ask,"What do we do if we and the children run into their Mother one day? We need help to know what to do....(We will keep it simple, I tell him. I tell him to hold their hands and not let go. I tell him we will work with all three kids to talk about, plan for the possibility of seeing their Mother at some unexpected time.)

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Their Father begins to cry. I tell him that his children will heal, that he should not think of them as damaged, that his love and care will change everything. I tell him I am and excellent Therapist and I care about his children and I will help him and his family.

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He and his girlfriend cry. I am relieved that this is a family I can work with, that I will work with. They are going to do their best. I can see that.

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I am relieved. This was a good day.

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Okay. Is this too hard to hear? I'm sorry if it is. Sometimes I'm amazed I and others can do this work at all. But most times I am honored. It is a high privilege.

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Okay. I would like to end this post with Mary Oliver. I admit I was a bit surprised at how many of my friends and visitors are not familiar with her poetry.

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So please, take a moment, no matter what else you are doing, and read these two poems. I think when you do you will understand why she is such a revered poet and you will understand something about yourself and life.

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And if like me you have already read these poems a hundred times, I know you won't mind reading them again. And again. ♥

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Wild Geese
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You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
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The Summer Day
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Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?