Notes from a Rookie Firefighter...March 19, 2009

The Stones and The Story

I have a collection of stones. I bought them one day when I had to go to court alone, except for my attorney, who is also a volunteer firefighter. They say inspirational things like Strength, Thank You, Believe, Love, and Money. I lost one of my older stones given to me by a friend a few weeks ago. When the 4 o'clock crew at the firehouse heard about my stones, well, they teased me relentlessly, especially that I lost one the 'rocks in my head'. So now, besides the one I mentioned, I have about five more that the guys have given to me. I know they were given to me as a joke, but do you know these stones give me courage? That they even sometimes block the bad feelings?

Last night I had to go visit my daugther. It's almost sufficating to walk into the detention center, and see your beautiful child looking so sad and robotic. Her hair is usually flat-ironed, her makeup flawless (except for the black eyeliner), and her youth piercing for all to see. Not in the detention center. Last night I saw glimpses of her three year old face, with no make-up on, and her hair was tight ringlet curls that she has always hated.

What could I say to someone who has made so many mistakes but doesn't see them? I prayed so hard when I walked in that I wouldn't crumble, or look so sad like I usually do, like I'm about to vomit by being in a place I could never imagine visiting her in. We only have a half-hour together, and my husband was late so I was alone with her. She started to tell me how she hated one of the girls there and how she had to control herself and not throw an overall tantrum and start a fight. I begged her not to do that as the stakes for her are very high, and the judgment will be swift and harsh.

Thank God I thought of the story she was writing. We had to copy it off the youth shelter computer when she left there, and it was already 19 pages of single space text. My daughter has always written things, mostly poems, but never finished any stories she started. She has been classified as a brilliant writer, way ahead of her age and intellect, displaying a perception far beyond what one would see in a child. She has won numerous contests, and has had four pieces of work published. No one sees that at the detention center though, or in court, or at the shelter.

When I told her I read the story at first she was shy about it...but then I saw a small smile turn up at the corner of her mouth. I haven't seen that smile in months. I shook myself and spoke to her as if she were a different person. Maybe I did because she has become a different person...more mature, more appreciative, more humble, more obedient. I could see her face light up when I told her the parts I really enjoyed reading, and that the main character's personality was hers and her best friend's put together. I even saw myself in the main character, and it's interesting to note that although adopted, my daughter and I shared many of the feelings of insecurity growing up. Thank God I spoke of what she needed to hear.

I was thankful that my husband came in the last ten minutes, and had read her story too. We tried to plant those seeds again...the ones of hope, inspiration, courage, and love. We left there at 9:30 when our time was up. I made a mental list of what she needs: to see a dentist, a counselor, to get a copy of her story so she can continue it. I was back to being a mom.

I don't know if any person can walk out of a place like that without feeling like I did.

Thank you for letting me write this. And the stones...they really do work. I may be teased about them, but I hold onto them for dear life because I'm so alone in this. Just like a rock in the storm of my life. The crew at 4 o'clock? I wonder if they really know what those stones have meant to me.