Molly's Life- Update for her cheerleaders and readers! And some notes on the point of it all

I have gotten so many messages about Molly each time I publish a new post.

Molly started out as a way for me to harness my outrage at the way we treat our nation's most precious resource, our children.

On any given day, approximately 400,000 children in the United States are in out of home care.*

We see stories sometimes about the truly good people caring for as many children as they can. Sadly, we see many about children who are seriously injured and killed as well. Luckily, child welfare system reform has increasingly become more of a hot button issue.

I personally believe we can do more. I was a child of our child welfare system. I was a smart kid, ahead of my class in every way. I was adopted by 5, but back in the system by 14. I fit into so many of the statistics that child welfare and child welfare reform activists throw at you to move you to compassion and action.

I also believe sometimes we focus so much on statistics and numbers that we forget child welfare is about each individual child. Our children are not numbers. They are individuals like Molly.

The lucky ones grow up and are an ever growing portion of our society. Some "make it" and become productive and break the cycles into which they were born. Some are not so blessed. Some become another page in a self repeating story.

You, my dear readers, have shown me in your support for Molly, how much you care. You have warmed my heart in how much you have responded in outrage at her mostly true stories. All of her stories are drawn from my own stories and the stories I heard first hand from other children in the system. There are so many more children like Molly that I want to introduce to all of you.

I have started work on a full novel about Molly as an adult, with flashbacks to her diary entries I have shared with you thus far, and many more that I have not had the courage to publish.

As I reach final edits, I will be publishing excerpts and gently introducing you to some of the other children she met along the way whose stories I will share later. Unfortunately those stories will not always have happy endings.

I hope as I publish this book and other short stories, I will have you first reaching for the tissues, and then have you rallying to demand change for all of these individual children that make up those large numbers in the statistics that are thrown at you.

Thank you for all your support! The first excerpts of Molly's novel are coming very soon. I will have it available for purchase sometime in 2015.

In the meantime, say a prayer, send a good thought, or make a donation today to help those individual children.

You can easily find a local group home in your area and make a direct donation of comfort items, NOT money, that those children will appreciate more than the funds that barely trickle down from the top when you throw them in donation buckets.

I will do a post in the next few days highlighting some great links and a list of items that the children would appreciate.





*Source: Childrensrights.org

Molly's Life Part 9 ~Pick a road

Two roads diverged in a wood...

The "road less traveled" is preached as the better road. I think they should really tell people more about how miserable traveling that road alone really is. I really really wanna do the right things but it makes my life miserable and there seems to be very little upside besides paving my path to heaven.

Ms. Karen keeps asking me questions about the happenings in the group home. I was sticking with telling her things like "I don't know" or "not that I know of". That seems to have worn thin and she had a talk with me about how she thought she could trust me and she finally had an honest, good Catholic girl in her house.

That really made me mad! Because I went to her and tried to be good and she let me get beat up and then made it pretty much impossible for me to do a police report without making it way worse. Plus she isn't even CATHOLIC! How does she know what a good Catholic girl would do and how is she gonna try to use my religious devotion as a weapon against me!

We don't even EVER get to go to a Catholic church! Ms. Justine drags us along to a really hyper and loud Christian church. I know God doesn't care as long as you give him his time but she gets REALLY mad when I won't take communion at her church because I don't know if I am allowed! I keep meaning to talk to someone at school and ask but I feel like it is something I should know so I think that is why I keep "forgetting" or not finding a convenient time is more like it.

Anyway, I told Ms. Karen, during this talk, that I would NOT be giving her any more info I thought it was safer for me to stay out of the middle of things and mind my own business.

So she tells me that "someone complained" that I am only 14 and I get to do after school activities like school newspaper and community service corp. The group home rule is generally you have to be 16 to get time out and a curfew and such. I have been allowed  to do after school stuff and come right home because I was already involved in it when I came here and I have a full scholarship so I am expected to be active in my school community.

I tried to explain the expectation and stammered all of this out to Ms. Karen how important it is for me to get a scholarship to college and have activities on my permanent record. She told me I had given her "no reason to continue to make exceptions" for me. Can you believe it?? She wants to mess up my entire high school career and hurt my chances of getting into good colleges and getting good scholarships because I won't snitch??? And Catholic Social Services put this woman in charge here??

I begged and pleaded and even went to the counselor at school. No one could help though they all hated it. The girls here told me I should just go anyway. All I will lose is  my 2 dollar a week allowance if I go AWOL. I really don't need the 2 bucks it doesn't help me any. All it would mean is to keep coming home an hour or two late...

Molly's Life Part 9- Snitches Get Stitches aka My New Home Sweet Home

It has been about a month since we last met my dear reader! Writing at that last shelter was next to impossible. I was antagonized a lot and teased for being a book worm and staff pet etc. Apparently I am too much of a "goody two shoes".

So thirty days came and went at that deplorable place and once again the ultimatum was given to drop me off at human services headquarters on day 30 if I was not "placed" elsewhere. Once again, all of my belongings were stuffed into big trash bags. Once again I climbed into the city owned mini van headed to a new home. 

This time, the caseworker had found me a group home. This was a more permanent solution. It was with Catholic Social Services so I was kind of excited! Finally, I thought, here was a place I could fit. Somewhere I could feel comfortable to lay my head down at night.

Oh dear, dear reader, was I ever wrong.

When I first arrived for "intake' to the group home I noticed it was in a part of the city where I had never been before that day. They said it was the "north" part of the city. I grew up in the lower northeast but was excited to explore more of the city. I had been pretty sheltered and looked forward to spreading my wings and indulging my voracious curiosity.

I walked in to my new home bright eyed and bushy tailed. Some of the girls were standing around looking at me. I smiled and they looked away but remained standing near by until one of the "house moms", Ms. Justine told them to go find something to do. I was taken to the back office to fill out some paperwork and be assigned my bed linens and such. I had my own bed linens on the way from my last shelter but took the ones the director of the home offered with an enthusiastic smile.

The director, Ms. Karen, seemed really really nice! She asked me about school, my activities, my grades and helped me figure out what bus routes I would need to take to get to school and even the best times to take them so I would be at first period on time. She introduced me to the other girls in the house. Right now there are 4 other girls, though the house can take up to 6.

Sandy is a slightly heavyset red head with awesome curly long hair. A little frizzed but gorgeous. She wears glasses but talks like she is pretty "tough". I think she came from a bad neighborhood. She seems really friendly though and showed me where my bed was. I am room mates with June. June is a gorgeous Cambodian 13 year old girl. She is petite but has a well developed figure. She seems to be everyone's favorite in the house. Then there is Sheniqa. She barely said a word to me but the director told me a lot of girls come and go very quickly so people take time to warm up to each other here. I understand that. It seemed in the shelters as soon as I made a friend they were leaving or I was. Plus it is not like we have cell phones or any permanent numbers to stay in touch. The fourth girl was named Robin. She is tall and thin and kind of seems to be off by herself more than the others though the conversations she does have with them seem easy and full of laughter and smiles and jokes.

So all seems well right dear reader? I have finally found my home. Well, then I went to bed.

I awoke at night to some noise and quickly had a hand come down over my mouth as the blur of sleep cleared from my eyes. I was going to panic but June was standing there signaling to me to be quiet and explaining that they were just sneaking Sheniqa's boyfriend in the house. The bedroom that June and I shared has a room for the kitchen addition outside our window which apparently makes it easy for company that isn't approved to sneak into the house when we unlock the window. I was freaking out hoping that the neighbors don't see or that we don't get hurt or heard by the staff.

June and Sandy assured me Ms. Justine was in the staff bedroom asleep and she is a heavy sleeper and told me to go back to bed while Sheniqa snuck her boyfriend back to her room. Sheniqa has no room mate. Sandy and Robin share a room.

The next day Ms. Karen was driving me to school to get the group home added to my contact info at the school office. Ms. Swank, the disciplinarian, congratulated me on the more permanent residence and I really think she meant it! Ms. Swank never seems nice to anyone!

Here is where my trouble started. Ms. Karen, the director, was asking me questions about the home and the girls and what they have been doing. She acted like she knew something was happening that shouldn't be and it was best if I tell her. I am a horrible liar and figured she was testing me so I better come clean about boys being snuck in the house through the window. So I did. That was my first mistake. Ms. Karen acted like she already knew and thanked me for being honest. She said she was glad she could come to me and get the truth and that she would make sure I liked it there because she was happy to have honest girls in her house.

I was glad I passed the test and forgot all about it.

I guess Ms. Karen acted on the information and didn't even know about it until I told her! I was making my bed with my own sheets that had just arrived yesterday when a sheet came down over my head and I was knocked to the bed. I was being punched from all sides on the bed and couldn't even get the air to scream. tears were streaming down my face and I felt like I couldn't breathe. Next thing I know it stops and I hear Ms. Justine telling all the girls to go downstairs and telling me I am ok. But I guess I didn't look okay. I was all bruised including my face and Ms. Justine had to call Ms. Karen who came out late at night to look me over and call the police and file a police report. They wouldn't let me change. I was wearing my cutest night gown which was, in my opinion, much too skimpy to have male police officers looking at me while I was wearing it. I sat there shivering and scared until the police arrived. They said if I wanted to file a report I would have to come down to the station and let them take pictures of my face and such. I said well, can I get dressed? They said no! Something about needing me looking the way I did at the time of the assault! That just doesn't seem right, does it? You tell me dear reader! 

Then Ms. Justine mentioned that I would probably be out too late to make school tomorrow. I CANNOT miss school! The police officers agreed I would probably be at the station for an undisclosed number of hours. I was still debating whether to go file when Sandy walked up and said, "If you file a report and get anyone in trouble it will happen again and worse. If one of us gets in trouble the rest will kick your @$$."

The police officers told her to go upstairs and so did the director and Ms. Justine. My decision was made. I would be going to bed and not filing a report. 

June was nice to me when I went upstairs and helped me ice my face. She said nothing about the incident except this. "You shouldn't have snitched, yo. Snitches get stitches and end up in ditches"

Lesson learned. I will NOT be snitching again. Consequences be damned. Adults don't care unless they are using you anyway. At least if you stick to the code with the other kids in the system you are all on the same team. I know what team I want to play, dear reader. I am not a fan of having a bruised face and even more badly bruised ego.

Molly's Life Part 8- Merry Christmas Everyone

I love the holidays, dear reader! They fill me with wonder and delight and the promises of better days to come! Even after tonight I still love them. Last time I wrote I didn't know where I was spending the night. I have been at the new shelter two days. They treat us all like we are criminals it seems. You know, dear reader (well at least I hope you know by now!) that I am NOT a troublemaker. I really do not appreciate being treated like one.

We all have chores on a schedule that we have to do each day. A few of the other kids here were refusing to do theirs so I started to do them to stop the arguing. I was in the other room figured it would not matter but the staff here really flipped out on me. Like I have no right to do chores that aren't mine. I considered giving them a definition of rights but didn't think it would help my case.

Tonight was Christmas Eve. Well one of my eyes is swollen shut but I guess it is morning now so it was last night. They are really strict about lights out and stuff here so I am writing in the near dark, just a touch of light from the window.

I was sitting in the "lounge" at a benched table we have for board games and such here. The "don't do extra chores" debacle was over so I was doing some reading for a school project. Apparently some of the kids think I am a "goody two shoes" now thanks to the rant of the staff member here. So one of them decided to throw a can of peas at my face to "teach me a lesson". I hate peas to start, dear reader! I will NEVER eat them again.

My eye waters pretty badly when I try to open it very much. So I am keeping it mostly closed. The headache is the worst part though.

They already gave us our Christmas presents. I got a brush and a dollar store version of a caboodles case. They are basic makeup cases if they don't have those in the future when you read this. I remember seeing all the donated toys for the organization that runs this place in piles and piles at the toy drives in the stores. I am not sure if seeing what some of these kids got makes me want to donate much better toys when I am an adult or found my own organization that treats kids with respect and trains it's staff better.

What would you do if you hit the lottery? I would get a house and car if I were a grown up. And then I would found a charity dedicated to making sure all these sob stories stop happening. That kids like all the ones I have met have a place to go. I think kids need a place to let off steam without the fear that grownups will interfere and make decisions for them. Somewhere they don't have to worry that the people hurting them will hear about it. I understand that people's conscience makes them want to help the poor innocent kids who cannot help themselves. Sometimes no adult can know better than the teenager who has lived their life for ten years in the same circumstances and somehow survived with their dignity intact and head held high.

I am starting to think everyone who acts out has a story. I have always scoffed at anyone not taking the time for homework or not making the grades or at least doing the extra credit if they need it. I am starting to understand that everyone has a story and they alone are the keeper. Just because you have a story doesn't mean it needs to be told.

I am going to tell you my story on behalf of all of those who cannot. Every kid and teenager I have met is smarter than the adults around them. They may not get good grades or have scholarships like I do but there is a lot I can learn from them.

I am finally feeling tired. I am going to grab some sleep. The wake up schedule is pretty strict here. Goodnight, dear reader!

Molly's Life Part 7- Hello Real World!

Apparently, dear reader, I have lived what the folks here call a sheltered life. Ironic since I am now in a shelter. This lawyer they gave me is a bug eyed idiot. He says he doesn't want my case anymore because I am a know- it- all on the phone, then in person he HAS to be my advocate and then decided he wants to keep me on as a "client"? A likely story, my dear reader! How much do you want to bet that the judge told him man up and stop being intimidated by a 14 year old?

Ok let's backtrack a bit. DHS stepped in and file charges on my parents. Apparently all the stuff they have been doing is emotional and physical abuse. So that is that right?  No! I had to go before a judge with them there and testify about it. Well I didn't even get to testify. I still have no clothes here so I had to borrow a sweat suit for court. It was stained so I turned it inside out. The judge was SO mad at me. My dumb lawyer told me not to say a WORD unless he told me to say something. Then the judge starts asking me direct questions and I look to the lawyer to see if I should answer and he just stares at me with those big bug eyes not even giving me a hint as to whether I should answer! Can you believe it? So I hesitated long enough that the judge let me off the hook and set the next court date to give DHS time to gather evidence. My dad looked mad at my mom, and my mom looked mad at me. I kinda feel bad for dad; he didn't really know everything that happened at home. he really did work a lot and then mom harped on him the second he got home about all kinds of dumb stuff about me or things he buys or whatever when she spends a fortune on her hair and stuff every month. Plus she wears sooo much makeup and that is expensive! I am never going to wear that much makeup.

Ok so anyway, my thirty days at this shelter is up so they dropped me here at the DHS offices. No one has even come to talk to me about what they are going to do with me or where I am sleeping tonight. I’m sitting here with my backpack and a trash bag of belongings. I am so glad it is a Friday so I don't have to worry about missing school tomorrow. There are a lot of parents here. I wonder which are the good ones here trying to help kids who have been hurt and which did bad things to their own kids. 

The kids at the last shelter weren't too bad. They have so many stories to tell.  If you are reading this, you should know that for every story like mine, there are 100 more to tell that may never be told because not everyone keeps diaries like mine. 

There is James whose mom was killed by his stepdad but everyone thinks she fell down some stairs. His stepdad is a cop and no one would listen to him so he ran away and was at the first shelter for a couple nights. He was scared to stay any longer in case his step dad is still looking for him. I snuck him my toiletries when he left figuring I can get more and played lookout while he grabbed some food from the kitchen for his bag. I was sooo scared. I never break the rules but no way was I letting him leave with no food. It is bad enough it looks like rain. I begged him to stay a couple more days. The shelter lets you stay 7 days as a runaway or 30 if you are in "the system" like me.

Then there is Rachel. She has a boyfriend who is 25! She sneaks out a lot on her "leave" to see him. She has been at a lot of places and keeps running away. normally I would write her off as a defiant kid who needs to grow up but then she starts to talk about how bad her dad beat her and how he’s the one who taught her about sex but only wanted it for himself and she showed him by getting this boyfriend. And I can't help but see the pride she is hiding whatever she really feels about it. it slips for just a second, but not long enough to see what lies behind the pride. So many writers have said the eyes are the window to the soul, when I met Rachel I realized they were right. Rachel’s window has a near perfect curtain of pride and bravado that barely ever flutters away.

So many more stories to tell dear reader, and right now, my parents don't look all that bad. But here comes my caseworker... hopefully they found me a place to stay tonight. 

Molly's Life Part 6 ~ A turning point decision

The school counselor has REALLY been pestering me about filing a report against my mom. Every single day I get called to the third floor. I know they wanna take me away and that could be pretty awesome and I could have more time for school instead of all these damn punishments but not if my mom KILLS me first. And I mean, don't all kids get disciplined? Isn't old school discipline better???

If they take me away from home I don't get to see John anymore. He smiled and raised his eyebrows at me the other day! I think he likes me and just can't get near me to say it. Okay okay maybe not. Maybe he just wanted me to come swim or something.

Mom will kill me if she finds out about this. I really love school what is going to happen if they find out the truth? Will I be put in public school? Can they REALLY protect me? I mean just a few weeks ago they were talking about a kid who was hurt really badly and DHS had a report on them and didn't act on it. Decided the child was in no danger. If THAT kids mom wasn't bad enough how are they gonna say mine is?

Aah well. I hope they don't interrupt any tests or anything...


(2 days later)

I am so so so glad I grabbed my hidden diaries this morning. Mom was cleaning and I didn't want her to find them. now I am sitting on the stairs in a shelter. Boys on one set of stairs, girls on the other. I have no clothes except my school uniform. They said they will find me some sweats to sleep in and I can wash my uniform for tomorrow. It is going to be SUCH a long bus ride to school.

Well wait, dear reader, let me catch you up. Today in school I finally cracked. I told them everything and they called DHS and that person said they had to tell my mom that a complaint had been filed. I could NOT be alone with her after they came to do that!!! I begged and pleaded and they gave me the address of a shelter. Said they cannot take me out of the home but I can "run away". Dana and her mom brought me here. It is a 30 day shelter. So at least they have to do something within 30 days. I hope. It isn't super dirty or anything and seems a lot of the kids are "in transition". Just waiting for spots in group homes. No one seems to be a true runaway. All those kids who seem homeless... where do they go if all the kids that DHS can't place are taking up the beds here?? Are there enough shelters for all of them? It doesn't seem fair when DHS has all these group homes and stuff and they are taking up beds meant for homeless kids and runaways. I mean I know they chose to run away but everyone deserves a bed. I can't imagine sleeping on the street. I would be so embarrassed.

So I have to go to school tomorrow and pretend nothing has changed. Pretend I don't feel dirty. Pretend everything is okay. I really really hope that caseworker knows what she is doing...

Fly a little longer

The kids always have some "new thing" that they must have because everyone does. I am a single mom so I do my best to avoid the more expensive and money sink type ones if I can. I am doing okay though so I do give in from time to time. I find it especially easy to give in when it is a long term thing that my son would need a cheaper version of anyway. You know what I mean. A great example is a backpack that will last all year or a pair of shoes that will hopefully make it through the semester. Plus I find he takes better care of things he wants than the stuff I pick for him.

It was shoes that had me at the department store that day. I am a sale shopper and a couponer so I did a tiny cringe at the price and grabbed his pair hoping they would maybe make it through the year and not just the semester. At least they weren't too crazy looking and didn't seem to have any "features" that would mess with his posture or anything.

I happened to stop at another display outside the shoe area when I overheard the conversation that would change my life forever. I had seen a little boy from my son's school in the department with his mom and recognized his voice right away. He was a pleasant and polite kid. I overheard him speaking with his mom.

The conversation went something like this:

Mom: Now please listen sweety I cannot afford another pair of these for a long long time. I really had to save up all year to get you something nice for this birthday.

(I already had a little lump in my throat. I was doing a little better now but the pain of that situation was still much much too fresh.)

Boy: I know mom. These are amazing but I always take good care of my shoes.

Mom: Oh sweetie I don't mean just cleaning them and that conditioner stuff you use, If you run as much in these as you always do you will wear them out quickly.

(The mom must have been tearing up at this point, and I felt her pain. Who wants to tell their young boy not to run so much because they can't afford more shoes???)

Boy: Oh mom please don't cry! I love them so much! I don't have to fly forever, but now I get to fly for a little while!

Mom: (laughs and sounds puzzled) Fly sweetie?

Boy: Yeah mom I run because it feels like flying.


The simplest conversation in the world. A little boy who daydreams that when he runs he is flying. The simple pleasure a child takes in life from something free and easy. Maybe in text it doesn't sound so profound. But I was broken up something fierce. I put down the handbag I was considering. I left the store with an uplifted heart and a plan.

I watched that boy in the schoolyard carefully wiping his shoes after recess. Always coming in the next day with them really cleaned, laces off the ground. I consider my own son to be conscientious and respectful of property but I had to replace his well before this little boys shoes started to show wear.

Then finally I started to see the wear. I know little boys grow fast and wasn't sure what size he would now be even though I had snuck a peek at his shoe size when the school had a moon bounce. Teaching at the school had its advantages. He gave me the perfect opportunity to see his shoe size. I saw him sit on a bench and carefully untie his shoe to take it off. He started shaking it like a rock had gotten in it. I quickly crossed to the bench where he was.

"Hey Garret! You alright?" I said

"Yes Ma'am" He said with a huge smile. "I just had something in my shoe"

"Whoops! Did you get it out? Don't want anything hurting those super fast feet! Gonna be an Olympic track runner one day!" (I reached down to touch his feet casually) "Just remember don't forget your old teacher"

I didn't think his face could get any brighter but it did and he ran off yelling "I won't!" with a spring in his step.

I knew where he lived so the rest was simple.

The next morning when he woke up he found a pair of shoes carefully wrapped and tied with brown paper and twine that I knew he would carefully unwrap. He was certainly that kind of boy. The card simply said, "Fly a little longer"

I was so excited to see him in school that Monday wearing his new shoes. I was puzzled to bits when he was still wearing the old ones. Of course I couldn't ask about them! I remained puzzled for a whole month until he finally wore the new pair.

I had to comment.

"Whoa! Someone got new shoes!" I said to him while he was lacing them snugly on the playgroung getting ready to run the track around the school.

"Yes ma'am! I had them for awhile they were a gift from heaven"

(I couldn't help but grin so huge)

"Wow that is so awesome!" I said. "When did you get them? Yesterday?"

"No ma'am I got them about a month ago, but my old ones were still okay to use. The card told me to fly a little longer and now I got to fly an extra month."

"Fly?" I said. Even though I knew what he meant. Well I thought I knew.

He started like I expected.

"When I run it is like flying. Free and fast."

But then he smiled the most peaceful angelic smile I have ever seen and there was a wisdom in his eyes of a man who has lived an entire lifetime. He continued-

"When I run I feel close to God, and if I am close to God I am close to heaven. Heaven is where my daddy is so I am close to him. Because heaven is a place we feel, not a place we go, I think."

I choked back the tears with a huge smile and tell him

"I think you are absolutely right"

He bounds off ready to run... ready to fly with his dad.

No words can describe the change he made in me. But now I live my life flying.