B is not a bad kid. He’s
an ordinary kid. His past has shaped him
into the little 8- year old he is today.
Unfortunately, for me, I don’t know his past. I put the pieces together one at a time,
slowly. Actually, I’m searching for the
pieces to put together. We have our moments. When they happen, I look at
him, and I wonder what has happened to shape him into that person.
Why
doesn’t he trust me?
Why
does he seek out my face in a crowd?
Why
does he distance himself one second, and wrap his arms around my waist the next
second?
Honestly, if you spend
five minutes with B, you’ll never meet a more gracious child. He possibly says “thank you,” 15 times a day.
Over the smallest thing.
What
has he been denied in the past?
What
was he never given?
B has been my biggest
reward and my largest challenge. I can change B’s life. B’s life can be saved.
It can be transformed. It’s happening every day when a person in my community
gives him 2 minutes of their time. B’s life changed in the scrimmage on
Saturday when he caught the rebound and dribbled it half court. He shook his
little fists in the air, in victory. That
exact moment, his life changed for the good.
B exists in every moment. He’s fully aware of his surroundings and how
his life is changing each second. He
loves it.
The little ones are
less affected by their lives. They possibly won’t remember the days prior to
this. B knows. B knows many, many
things. B is tender, sweet and gentle. He talks with a small voice, almost a
whisper, leaving his R’s out. He’s excited about everything. He smiles wide, and he has the most beautiful blue eyes
with specks of green in them. This kid
is amazing. Through his eyes, I have
seen what we all take for granted. The
simple things in life. He has enriched
mine just by simply walking into it. I always thank his caseworker when I speak
to her. I want B to experience so much
and not to be judged for what his life was before. But B also comes with his set of
challenges. I take them in stride, take
a deep breath and *pray.* If you don’t know his past, how do you know how to
help him?
We started counseling
last week. I mentioned this before. It opened my eyes to a whole new
child. The doctor had counseled B for
the year prior to him living in our home. This doctor knew all about B and his
life. I asked the doctor, privately, to tell me more about B and to help me
find these pieces. He was surprised that I didn’t know more, and suggested we
get B to tell us.
I
hadn’t taken that approach. Just ask.
B was an open book that
afternoon. We sat in the office for an hour and a half, chatting, laughing, and
sometimes, frowning. But what I noticed
most during our conversations, he started calling his “original” mother by her
first name. He never called her by the title that she didn’t deserve.
We are a constant work in
progress. Some days, I’m exhausted. Other days, I’m not. This isn’t easy by any
stretch of the imagination but it the best thing ever. B’s getting a second
chance at a life.
Yesterday, after the
scrimmage, he thanked me (yet again) for letting him play. Another high-five
ensued and a short recap of the day’s events. To B, the details aren’t
important – the bigger picture is. He played on a basketball team today. His
team. For the first time ever. He didn’t make a basket, he wasn’t the fastest
kid on the team, his defense was a little sketchy but that didn’t matter. He
played. Elijah patted him on the back
and told him how proud he was of him. We couldn’t wipe that smile off his face
if we tried.
I know there will be many
more challenges with B. We have many uphill
battles that I will have to choose very carefully. He is wounded and scarred
but not unlovable.
In all the things we take
for granted, I’m watching a little boy transform.
