Admitting defeat doesn't come easily to me. Recently, I have had to admit failure in two areas that I hold closest to my heart. One area is at work with the girls that I love. The other is at home with my youngest son that I love. Both failures weigh heavily on my heart.
A phrase that is commonly used in our home is "A job isn't worth doing if it isn't done well." We try to live by those words. Doing a job well is easy when you love what you do. I do. Most days, I love my job. I teach court committed female offenders. Some of them have been committed to our program by children and youth services because of family issues or conflicts. Others have been committed by juvenile probation for committing a crime of some sort. For fifteen years, I have worked almost exclusively with teenage female offenders. I love them. They are my girls. The way I feel about them doesn't excuse the choices they have made in the past. It doesn't excuse the mistakes they will probably make in the future. Instead, it sees down into the heart of who they are, a lot wounded, a lot angry, a lot lacking in basic life and social skills. I love them. They are my girls.
There are days I think I'd like to quit my job to become a Wal-Mart greeter. It might be easier than trying to teach seventeen and eighteen year-olds with fifth grade reading levels subjects that hold no interest for them. It might be easier than trying to get girls who are supposed to be seniors earning twenty-four credits to graduate when they only have eight or nine earned. They lack the credits to graduate and lack the skills to pass the General Equivalency Diploma (GED) exam. I'm supposed to motivate them to want to attend school when they know in their hearts that there is very little they or I can do for them. Ironically, somehow, I often succeed and they try. They try to do work that they see no purpose in. They try to work towards a goal when they know they are going home to the same situations that led them to where they are. It's these girls that keep me motivated to keep trying to reach one more girl, to make a difference in one more life. Who knows where her life may lead? She may become something phenomenal. She may become the mother of someone that changed all our lives for the better. Wouldn't I want someone to care that much for my child? It just so happens that I do. I want that for all of our children.
I have recently faced some disheartening challenges. I have had several girls fail at our program that I had invested considerable time, energy, and love into. They had to leave for more restrictive placement because they couldn't make the changes that were needed for them to succeed. These failures weigh heavily on my heart. My last words to the one girl were "I love you." She replied "I know. I love you too." It broke my heart but it's been broken many times by many girls.
We have had to face the fact that our sons impulsiveness, unpredictability, and inability to focus has worn us all down to almost nothing. We've implemented behavior plans, shared information with the school, and maxed out our resources. His behavior has shown some improvement. He's bringing home almost all As on his classwork. Things have even gotten better on the bus. None of that changes the constant need to supervise him to ensure his safety from his own impulsive choices. None of that changes his inability to focus. None of that changes the anxiety symptoms he is beginning to display from constantly trying to do what is expected of him when his body and mind aren't prepared or capable of doing what is being asked on him. In light of the summer and fall that we have faced, we've asked for a consult with his neurological team. They want to gather information from everyone involved but have forewarned us that they are strongly leaning towards the need for medications to help him gain a measure of control over his impulsiveness. I do not want to put chemicals into his body. It is one of my biggest fears. There are too many "what ifs". Unfortunately, barring any new ideas or recommendations, we feel we may have maximized our resources.
We are all exhausted. Very, very exhausted. I've had to put them in the Lord's hands. I can give all of myself to my girls and to my son. I can guide and lead and love. Ultimately, they must choose the paths they will follow. I have to trust that the Lord will be there if and when I fail them. I have to have faith that something bigger than myself is at work. Please Lord, watch over my kids. They need your intervention and love.
No comments:
Post a Comment