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HeroicStories #748: Three Penny Momma
Reaching more than 40,000 subscribers in 118 countries, this is...
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HeroicStories #748: 03 May 2008 www.HeroicStories.com
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--+-- This Story Originally Ran as #511: 6 May 2004 --+--
Three Penny Momma Story Editor:
by Don L. Creacy Joyce Schowalter
Kentucky, USA
The year was 1958 and I was seven years old when I first met my Momma.
It's not important how we three children fell into the child-care
system, nor how we came to live at that orphanage. Simply stated, the
man our birth Mother had run off with didn't want to raise three hungry
children after she was killed in a car accident.
So there we were. I vividly remember holding each sister's hand through
a chain link fence: separated on the boys' and girls' sides. It remains
important that we three children stayed close.
One day they got us all "fixed up" and took us to the courthouse to see
the Judge. To insure good behavior, the social worker gave me three
pennies for the gumball machine... "if we were good." When we arrived
they walked us right past the gumball machine and, to our great joy,
into a room with our biological Dad. The Judge told me, as the oldest,
that if I wanted, we could go with our Dad and the new Momma he had for
us.
I looked her over, a large sweet-smelling, pillowy woman in a flowery
dress. I reached into my pocket, pulled out those three pennies and
asked her, "If I give you these three pennies will you take care of
them?"
Somehow she understood I meant a different kind of question. She
replied, "Yes Honey, I will." I turned to the Judge and told him we
would go with her.
For the next twenty-five years she cooked and cleaned and slung hash at
the Calico Kitchen all night long only to come to three more hungry
mouths. She wasn't perfect, I don't know anyone who is, but she raised
and reared us when necessary. Finally, we were all three out of the
house and married and raising families of our own. Life was good.
Then Dad chose to leave with another woman. We kids were devastated. I
wanted to show Momma my support, love, and appreciation for all her
gifts and sacrifices. I wrote her a letter and told her that no matter
what happened or what anyone else in the world did, she would always be
our Momma. To emphasize my point, I taped three shiny new pennies into a
card and sent it to her.
She called. "I don't need three pennies to remember you children.
Besides, I still have the first three."
That was fifteen years ago. Momma died this spring, we buried her on
Good Friday, but because of her, we will never again be motherless
children.
As we sorted her things out, I opened her jewelry box drawer. There in
tiny individual plastic bags, lay three pennies, dated 1957, 1957, and
1958. I have them in my pocket at this moment. No one will ever make a
movie or write a book about her, but to me and my sisters, she is the
world's best Three Penny Momma.
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----------==========----------o----------==========----------
Joyce writes:
I'd like to apologize for the long delay before today's issue, and other
delays in recent publication. There may be no adequate excuse, but there
are reasons.
For years I've been committed to an ideal that this HeroicStories
Comments Section should not be "all about Joyce", but rather be readers
conversing about the unsung heroes all around us.
This will be the rare exception to that rule. In 2005, I decided to put
my actions where my ideals were, and become a foster-to-adopt parent. My
goal was to adopt two children from the Foster Care System, to help them
heal from previous abuse, to help them become fully functioning members
of both my family and our society. First steps included taking many
hours of classes, modifying my home to meet rules and inspections,
answering questionnaires, submitting essays, gathering referrals, and
being interviewed extensively. For me this was creating a second family
on purpose, to be of service to some of the hundreds of thousands of
children longing for a safe home. (12,000 - 18,000 in my State alone in
a given year, depending on which statistics accessed.)
My criteria were "two boys, between age 2 and 5, at the same time". This
choice should have allowed me to keep brothers from being separated
needlessly in the system. Today's (rerun) story eloquently expresses the
need to keep sibling groups together.
After submitting my paperwork, I waited eight months to be licensed -- a
"normal" delay in my area, if frustrating. I then waited a year and two
months for a call on a prospective child. Nearly two years total, and
yes, a "normal" wait for foster-to-adopt parents in my area. Yes, you
worry about all the children who're not being helped while you wait.
In June 2007 I received my first placement: one 3.5-year-old boy. I
thought I might be 102 years old by the time I got a second call if I
didn't say yes, (somewhat kidding) so I said yes to that single
placement. I can't give details, as throughout the last 10 months, there
has been no guarantee that the work I've put into helping him to
stabilize and settle into being a calmer, happier, brighter, less
aggressive and assaultive child... will result in him staying here.
At first he wanted to leave, as he'd been able to exit his last *five*
(5) placements. (Yes, 5 at age 3: he was afraid to even hope he could
stay.) He had con-vinced ("conned") his last placement into giving up on
him in two short weeks. I outsmarted him, as it were, "conning" him into
wanting to live here, wanting to be loved by me, my family, and the
circle of children and adult friends who surround us. There is still no
guarantee that his now-strong desire to stay here will be honored --
although two professionals are strongly pulling for that to happen.
I can and have handled the stress of coping with his needs and
dysfunctions, which are, of course, more stressful than dealing with a
"normal" child, which I've done before. What I didn't expect was how
much time it would take to interface with the relevant authorities. The
child's therapist wants you to call the child's advocate and report back
as to what he said. You wonder why they couldn't talk to each other,
saving you three intense conversations. Background checks need to be
obtained for anyone you want to watch the child for an hour, so you can,
for instance, work. Paperwork, forms, reams of documentation, court
appearances (who will watch the child?), conversations, therapist and
therapeutic day care, every provider creates a burden of interfacing
with the professionals. I had no idea how great would be the stress of
being a part of "the system".
Moreover, at times "the system" has made decisions about the child's
life, which have caused him to regress: baby talking, becoming more
assaultive, more needy, acting out more. Result? Four months of progress
out the window, starting over again with an essentially 2-year-old child
in a much larger body. It can be handled, but seems pointless, it's more
stress. The stress *cannot* be directed at the child, or it would
interrupt his healing -- and it has to be resolved daily.
HeroicStories #744 "You Never Know Who" led us into reader discussion
about extreme stress. It's still on our archives, as is the discussion
in subsequent issues, here: http://www.heroicstories.com/archives.html .
On-going high levels of stress take a toll, no matter what the origins
of the stress.
As stress has mounted, I've found that part of the day, certainly
nightly, instead of working I need to do the equivalent of staring at a
tree. That is, do nothing and seek a still, calm, place within. It may
*seem* simple to create an issue of HeroicStories, but in fact it
requires a cascading series of choices, editing, and correspondence.
Further, the net result will be published worldwide, exposing the
creator to scrutiny similar to acting or singing on stage.
I have carried *guilt* over not publishing, but the guilt is its own
form of stress, and doesn't help create the energized calm needed to be
creative. The guilt in fact can snowball -- what about the people whose
lives would be uplifted by HeroicStories, but aren't when it is silent?
What about the people who believe in HeroicStories enough to contribute,
aren't they wondering if they should not have given? Will our volunteers
quit if I don't correspond with them in a motivational fashion?
So for months, haltingly, I have carved out the time and mental space to
create an issue of HeroicStories, on a sporadic schedule. Sporadic
publishing is certainly not optimal; I and the inner circle of
volunteers are aware of that. For now, until the stress lifts (adoption
or removal), it's what I can manage. I believe that if *anyone* in the
world is capable of being compassionate about this situation, it's
HeroicStories readers and supporters. Until now, I haven't even been
able to find the courage or words to share something so personal and
emotional.
There's a Chinese proverb: "Where there's Chaos, there's Opportunity."
For anyone still awake and reading this far, I'll continue from here
next issue. What *opportunity* is available to HeroicStories because of
this current situation?
I'd like to open up a dialog about what possible *benefit* HeroicStories
would derive from more people being involved, taking it to another
creative, wonderful level. If you're reading this and thinking, "I have
the magic wand to resolve this, because my skill set exactly suits me to
do Joyce's job" ...do let me know! That's how I got this job in 2001, by
waving my hand over the Internet in correspondence with Randy. Of
course, you'd have to also have time, desire, commitment,
stick-to-itiveness, and a few more things.
Please note my new "title" below, it's a hint as to the direction I
believe HeroicStories should go from here, with your help and
inspiration.
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Now back to our regularly scheduled programming, the Comments Section as
created by Sheila Crosby:
Scott in Georgia sent an atypical comment in response to our last issue.
He said, "I almost always check out the advertiser in HeroicStories and
this time the ad sounded too good to pass up. I ordered his book,
autographed. Thank you for a great newsletter and also for advertisers
with great products." Thanks, Scott -- the same author is advertising
his book again today for those of you who didn't notice it last week, so
go peek at our ad.
In last week's story, "A Class Act" (#747), a high school class adopted
a needy family for Christmas, buying each person the perfect gift.
For Cathy in Washington it brought back memories of being the giver.
Cathy: "One Christmas about twenty years ago, a neighbor and his
girlfriend had been strung out on drugs. Both had lost their jobs, so we
knew that there wouldn't be much of a Christmas for their three kids. A
friend and I put together a huge basket of food with gift-wrapped
presents for each child. We put it on their doorstep Christmas Eve, rang
the bell, and ran off before they could get to the door. They were so
surprised and deeply touched, and asked around as to who had left the
basket, but we never confessed. Some would say we should've tipped off
the police about drug use, but we'd heard too many bad stories of what
can happen to kids in foster care. These were happy kids, despite their
impoverishment."
In our previous story, "Lauren Listened" (#746), Harold remembered how
"Just when I wanted to disappear out of hurt and embarrassment, someone
helped me reach out to others." If you missed it, you can access that
story here: http://www.HeroicStories.com/archives.html .
Jane in Yorkshire replied, "I'm always puzzled when people say their
teens were the happiest years of their life. Either their lives were
very different from mine, or they have faulty memories. I remember my
own adolescence as basically one long cringe. I'm deeply grateful for
every word of encouragement I got back then. I'm not at all sure I'd
have survived without it."
And finally, Susie from New Hampshire has been "paying it forward".
Susie: "I'd stopped for a snack at a fast food restaurant, going to the
drive-up window to order. There were two lanes and I let a man cut in
line in front of me, and he gestured his thanks. As I pulled up to pay
for my meal, the attendant waved me through saying the guy I'd let in
had paid for my food. I got to smile twice for my one simple act."
Joyce Schowalter, Networker in Chief
Sheila Crosby, Comments Editor
Co-Conspirators to Make the World a Better Place
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last updated: May 2005