I’d had a difficult day but a promise is a promise, and I had promised.
Two months ago, I got the wild idea of taking a fifteen-year-old appointed client shopping. A mother of one adorable child born in August of 2013, this lovely teenager now lives in a foster home because of the struggles of her own mother. She stands against a wall after each of our court appearances with silent tears streaming down her face, dripping on her T-shirt. At our April review date, I noticed the slight shabbiness of her clothing. I’d had a flush month so I blurted out, “Do you need clothes?” She raised her eyes and a glimmer of excitement eminated from her. I checked with her caseworker; she had not yet gotten a clothing allotment for 2014. This sealed my resolve.
I’ve put the trip off twice. May was not as flush as April; June even less so. That’s the way of self-employment. Feast or famine. Save for a rainy day; save for the month when clients put their other obligations before you. But a promise is a promise, and to a foster child, a promise can be the difference between lying in bed sobbing at the failings of yet another adult, and the thrill of being surrounded by a group of admiring girls, also in care, also in old and worn clothing waiting for their semi-annual allotment.
My client had in mind a store with colorful, modern clothing but low prices. She sorted through the sale racks first — a child after my own heart. Then we found the buy-one-get-the-second-for-$5 section and we both crowed. Armed with eight or nine items, we snagged a dressing room. I wondered if she would want my input, but that question settled itself when the door opened and she gestured, asking me to see. Oh, honey. Oh, my dear. A vision she was, with her beautiful brown skin, her bright face, her small young woman’s body. She had chosen to try first a little denim skirt, flared and femine; and a blue jean jacket with a colorful top underneath. She could have been anybody, any teenager, anywhere, rather than an unwed mother in the state’s care and custody.
All told, I spent under $150 and she got two dresses, two pairs of shorts, four tops, the denim jacket and skirt, and an absolutely adorable pair of pants. And me? What did I get? Joy. I got joy. And i think I got the better deal.
God bless you both. Nuff said.
Kati
Kati the cousin, thank you. This is the same young mother about whom I’ve previously written. I am hopeful for her. She is thriving even though she longs to be back with her mother and sisters. The two younger girls are with relatives. I see potential for her being back with family, though I don’t think with her mother. She recognizes that potential and is coming to terms with it. But she misses her mother. “Nobody fries chicken like my mother,” she told me yesterday. I saw the homesickness in her face. I miss my mother too, don’t you? How alike we humans are; when stripped of trappings, we are essentially the same.
more than the clothes, you gave her some confidence in both herself and in others that some people really do keep their promises. I’m so proud to call you my friend.