Mommy Life

Inside there are four apartments - one on either side of the front door and one on either side at the top of the stairs. We lived in the top left apartment - and it lives today in every cell of my body. My mother slept on a couch in the living room. My two brothers and I shared the bedroom. There were roaches in the kitchen and a backdoor opening to wooden stairs that spilled into the alley where we kids roller-skated and played hopscotch. I tried my first hula hoop there. I was only 9-10 but I was always on my own.

I walked two blocks to Barnard Elementary School, where I was one of two white kids in my class. I never realized it until someone told me. I loved my classmates and adored my teacher - Mrs. Delaney - who was so gentle and kind. I walked home to make my lunch each day. I didn't see much of my mother as she was gone when we got up and came home after we were asleep. She was working several jobs to support us, but she also had problems with alcohol and men - problems I would eventually understand more when I was a conflict-ridden single mother in the 70s. What I remember most is the kindness of black families who took me in for dinner, providing an example of what a real family looked like. This was pre-LBJ's War on Poverty which pretty much destroyed the black family in Washington DC. Back then, I was able to see the kind of stability dads brought into the home.

So many memories. I am grateful for this part of my life - it was hard, but now I understand the lessons God wanted me to learn.

We got to the Zoo around 5, thinking it would be wonderful to walk around in the cooler part of the day since it doesn't close until 8. But it seemed all the animals were in hiding and the buildings closed at 6.

So we amused ourselves taking pictures:

This is not in focus, but shows what it looks like when our family is together:

That was just with 7 kids (Jesse is in front of everyone). But I love the way my kids love each other. A couple years ago, I was having a rare conversation with my younger brother who was a high school dropout, then a Navy man, now a PhD (clinical psychology). He was asking me about what happened when we lived in a foster home and I started crying as I told him some of the abuse we endured - which he was too young to remember. We talked about the years when we did live with our mother and we were kind of marveling that we were somehow eventually able to make something of our lives.

But it took a long time. As he said, we were like animals growing up with no guidance, no mentoring, no one to help us make sense of our experience. I remember when I became a National Merit Scholar - I had no idea what that meant or how important an opportunity it would be. To tell the truth, I was actually a little embarrassed because at the time it wasn't cool to be singled out for being smart. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to have two supportive parents.

We can never go back and give ourselves a happy, wholesome, loving childhood. But we can do our best to build one for our children. And that is the next best thing - maybe even better.

I am so glad God gave me an opportunity to start over again and filled my life with meaning and possibility through my family and my writing. I share this not for sympathy but to give others hope. No matter what your past consists of, God can give it meaning and make it useful. My favorite Bible story: when Joseph tells his brothers: You menat it for harm, but God meant it for good. I wouldn't change a minute.

How Can I Keep From Singing?

Love,

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