When I was pregnant with my son, a well-meaning individual who shall not here be named counseled me to “give [my] child to a real family”.  By “real”, I think this individual meant “a family consisting of a mother, father, house, mortgage, cat, dog and regular church attendance”.  I didn’t, thankfully, and despite a few dire prognostications along the way, I think I made the right choice for him.

When I walk the halls of the Family Court, watching babies cry and toddlers squirming on the laps of social workers, I realize that my child’s life came nowhere near the disaster that it could have.  True enough, for his first eight years he had just one parent, and since then, he’s had two stepfathers.  But he always had love, and a roof, and food on the table.  He attended a private preschool and elementary school if not the most expensive in town.  He had opportunity to fulfill his potential, which I think he’s doing.

An appointed client of mine has her court-ordered supervised visitation at the conference room of my suite.  Yesterday, a technician came to take a urine or hair sample for drug-testing.  She went with him, quite docilely.  She’s twenty-one and pregnant with her fourth child.  A twin of her current pregnancy miscarried but this one persists.  The first two children have been adopted by her parents who foster child three.  My client rarely has a place to sleep, a job, food, or even enough money for bus fare.  We give her bottled water, the occasional sandwich, and spare change.  Perhaps it’s above and beyond.  But it seems the right thing to do.

There’s all kinds of sadness in the world.  Thinking about the sorrow of others prods me to put just a bit more happiness in each day, by smiling; by forgiving; by letting others know how much I care about them.  I’d rather be hung for a fool than a cad.  I don’t know how much time I have left on the earth, but I intend to exit laughing.

Here’s a link to a YouTube of Joni Mitchell singing “Little Green”.  I hear this song in my head every time I go to Family Court or one of my Family Court clients comes to me.  I hope you enjoy it; and more importantly, I hope hearing it inspires you to walk down the hall to your children’s bedrooms, peak inside, and make sure they are covered to their little chins, with their teddy bears tucked in beside them, and the night light burning.

Little Green – Joni Mitchell: