Just recently I was watching TV with my foster grandson when the mattress company commercial came on the screen…the one that asks people to donate money so that children in foster care might have warm clothing for the cold weather. I asked Tony if the commercial embarrassed him at all. He admitted that the company probably meant well but “it sort of gives the impression that we are all poor kids and need to be pitied.”
His comment reminded me of the stigma our foster children are made to bear in our society.

I am proud to be a foster parent but I find myself sort of dancing around the word when I refer to Tony as my foster kid. . He much prefers that I simply call him my grandson rather than his foster grandson. I’m good with that. I understand that teenage kids in the foster system don’t need to have their legal status branded on their chests. Just being a teenager is tough enough without attracting notice by having an additional label added to your name.

Foster kids already know they are different from their classmates. They are aware that their school trip permission slips and Medicaid authorization slips are signed by “guardian” not a parent. They are conscious that their teachers and school administrators “know” they are foster kids and that in some cases they are watched more closely than other students. Wanting more than anything to merge in seamlessly as just another normal kid, their legal status makes them stand out in a crowd.

It’s hardly a secret that many foster kids, even those whose foster parents would allow it, do not feel comfortable inviting their friends over for a sleep-over. This is especially true for kids who live in group homes but it is also true of kids in family homes. As Tony would say, “It’s just too awkward.”

Ironically, this “awkward” situation is made worse by the media, which throws a spotlight on the failure of our foster care system to produce successful outcomes for kids transitioning out of foster care. When the public sees headlines like “70% of incarcerated adults spent at lease some time in the foster care system,” it doesn’t give them much incentive to welcome foster kids in our communities or make it easier for foster kids to own up to their status.

No one seems to “get” that kids entering the foster system were admitted because they were deeply troubled kids already. By definition, they came to the system because they were abused and neglected by their birth parents. Of course they have attachment and abandonment issues. Of course they act out. Those early childhood years were traumatic. Granted that the foster care system needs improvement, it’s more than a little simplistic to blame everything on those trying their best to salvage kids when the kids have been deeply harmed before they were even placed in their first foster home.

I would like to see a dramatic change in the way we look at foster kids. Sure the system can improve. We need to invest in these children by providing better training for foster parents and by giving foster parents adequate resources to do their job right. We need to assure a more stable system so that kids are not bounced from one foster home to another. We need to make more of an effort to keep siblings together in care.

But, just as important is a change in attitude on the part of all those people who take care of children. From teachers to coaches to administrators, we have to begin to realize that the negative “tude” we have towards foster kids is part of the reason so many give up on life and waste their lives in prisons. When a kid says, “Don’t call me a foster kid,” he is already buying into the expectations that he will fail. That’s a tragedy for all of us.

I told Tony that I ’ll go along with his request not to referred to as a foster kid as long as he understood that there is nothing bad about being a foster kid, that he had done nothing wrong and that foster kids are perfectly capable of succeeding in life. “Is it a deal?” I asked him. “Yea, grandpa. That’s cool,” he smiled and gave me a high five.

I Shall Not Hate

A Palestinian doctor chose forgiveness over revenge and the whole world is better for it.

In his book, “I Shall Not Hate,” Dr. Isseldin Abuelaish, the Muslim father who experienced one of the worst nightmares that can befall a human being, the killing of his three daughters, writes a story not of vengeance but of forgiveness.

During the intifada of 2009, while radical Palestinians were lofting rockets into Israel and the Jews were responding by leveling parts of Gaza, the doctor and his family were kept holed up in their home fearing for their lives. As the doctor played with two of his children in the living room,
an Israeli rocket tore through the bedroom occupied by his three daughters.

Surely, no one would have been surprised had Dr. Abuelaish gone on a rampage against those who had done this. His anger at the injustice of what had happened was palpable. But his just anger never morphed into taking revenge on the Jews.

In his book Dr. Abuelaish writes “I know that what I have lost, what was taken from me, will never come back. But as a physician and a Muslim of deep faith, I need to move forward to the light.”

As a Christian, I am humbled that a man, not of my faith, should live the words of forgiveness that are uttered in the Lord’s Prayer, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those that trespass against us.”

Most of the time, we muddle through life, flawed human beings that we are, with lots of stuff on our plate that cries to heaven for forgiveness, the bad things we do, the good we fail to do, all part of the human condition.

So, it is heartening to have some bright moments in our lives when, seemingly out of nowhere, along comes someone who makes us believers again. We witness acts of generosity or of love that take our breath away. A woman prays for the man who was convicted of killing her son, a stranger dives into the ocean to save a child; a Muslim man forgives the Jews who killed his little girls.

In the Jewish religion, there is a wonderful myth that speaks of the angels in our lives. With every good deed, every mitzvah, no matter how small, we add another angel to the world. These angels do not disappear. They remain as a kind of rainy day fund that helps to balance out the evil that is committed. The more angels we can collect, the more in balance our world will be.

I like to think that the Palestinian physician who chose love over hate, forgiveness over vengeance, has unleashed a million angels on our world.
At least for a moment, we are in balance again.

When my dad was chairman of the parish charity drive in Buffalo, he never tried to shame or bully rich folks into contributing more to the drive each year. His approach was to sit down with the potential large donors and respectfully point out to them the opportunity they had to really make a difference in the community.

He talked about the legacy they would leave and how their family name would always be honored by succeeding generations. Dad made them feel that he was doing them a favor by giving them the opportunity to share their wealth. The technique worked. Holy Family Parish never once failed to exceed their goal.

I was thinking of my dad’s respectful approach the other day while watching the confrontations taking place all over the country that were being portrayed as “US” VS “THEM.” True, in most cases, the rallies were non-violent and conducted with a surprising degree of civility. But there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that “we” the 99% are the victims and “they” the 1% are the perpetrators.

Is it that simple? I don’t think so. It was not only the very rich who were guilty of raw greed. Middle class folks salivated at the money they thought they could make by investing in shaky real estates investments. We, the 99% have contributed to the way our congress operates by voting in many of the rascals who are in office today or causing the same result by not voting at all.

Rather than simply attacking the rich for our problems, we need to effect change by acknowledging that there is enough blame to go around and then calling on the rich, not as aliens, but as fellow human beings to help us find solutions together. Help them to realize the vital role their wealth can play in making a difference in our world.

If that sounds hopelessly naïve, bordering on the whimsical, I submit that the way of mutual respect beats the hell out of calling one another names and coming to the impasse where we now find ourselves. Dividing the world into “us” and “them” gets us nowhere; never has.

I’m reminded of Frederick Franck’s words, “The derelict asleep on the pavement under a jute sack is disquieting because he is me, after the always possible catastrophe. We were both lovely babies last week, aggressive teenagers yesterday, the corpses of tomorrow morning.”

We’re all in this together, mates.

“Sir, You’re Beautiful!”

So, I’m walking along Sonoma Ave in my hometown, toting a cloth bag with a few books I’m donating to the library. I’m dressed in my sunny California uniform, shorts, t-shirt and a battered Oakland A’s baseball cap.

Along comes a middle-aged, slightly overweight woman approaching me from the opposite direction. Her face lights up in a smile. “Sir, you are beautiful,”she says. WAIT! WHAT DID SHE SAY? Caught off guard, I do manage to return the smile and answer, “You’re great,too.”

I continue walking for a moment, stunned by what just happened. Did a perfect stranger just tell this seventy-seven year old geezer that he was BEAUTIFUL? Whoa! Wait a second. That craggy, wrinkled face that looks back at me from my bathroom mirror….beautiful? No, maybe if my mom were still alive, she might think me beautiful but no one else. I like to think I may have other good qualities, but beautiful I ain’t.

Still, I have to admit that the woman’s comment had put a spring in my step. For the next few blocks I sort of floated down the street feeling like the inimitable Ali who could “fly like a butterfly and sting like a bee.” Crazy, isn’t it, how an unexpected compliment can give you a lift?

The experience got me to thinking that maybe I have been too stingy in the compliments department. Hey, it doesn’t cost me a penny to tell someone “You’re looking good today.” What’s the big deal?

It’s not like we are all walking around with a finite amount of compliments in our good deeds savings account. Whoops! I already told my son that he’s a nice kid just yesterday. I’d better hold off. I’m spending too much of my “compliments account.” Here’s the deal. The more generous we are in recognizing others, the more our account grows.

I was brought up in an Irish Catholic family that was decidedly sparing with their compliments. The mortal sin in our house was “spoiling” anyone.
God forbid that anyone should be made to feel proud of what he had done or, even more, how he looked.

We have come a long way from that kind of thinking in today’s world. Some would argue we have gone too far in the opposite direction. The cult of self-esteem rules. Maybe so.

Still, for most of us who struggle through life, only too aware of our flaws and limitations, it’s nice to get a compliment from someone. And, if we feel good receiving an encouraging word, what keeps us from going out and returning the compliment to a friend or even a stranger? What does it cost us?

Hey reader…..”You’re beautiful!

Stuff I’m Sure About

Benjamin Franklin once famously remarked “In this life nothing can be said to be certain but death and taxes.”

Most of us, I suspect, will agree with old Ben. The times we live in are awash in uncertainties. We find ourselves in the eye of a technology revolution that is changing the world around us at dizzying speed. How do we stay grounded when everything around us is in flux?

The very institutions that used to provide stability to our lives, family, and church are in the throes of change. Added to our woes is an economy in crisis, high unemployment, yada,yada ,yada. Man! I can’t stand it.

Ben Franklin’s way of coping with change in his day was a wry sense of humor and a quote that has endeared him to us even to today. Yea, Ben, your are right. There are few things certain in life but, with due respect, there are more than two items on the short list, items that we can hold on to and provide a sense of equanimity to our frazzled hearts and minds.

Here’s my top six, my sure things in life. And first on the list is

LOVE

I am sure that there is no force more powerful in the world than the power of love. The love of a mom for her baby, a soldier for his country, the love of a saint for her God, the committed love of a spouse for her mate. Yes, I am sure that this kind of love, not only exists, but rules the world.

CONNECTIDNES

I am sure that every living thing is connected. What one person does affects every thing else. The butterfly effect, so called because the smallest of actions can cause major effects, is for me one of the certainties on which I base my life.

THE PRESENT MOMENT

What we have is today. Nobody can take that from us. The past is a memory; the future a guess. But, by gosh, we do have today.

THE PRESENCE OF CHILDREN

I am sure that there is nothing more beautiful in the world than a baby’s smile or the innocent laughter of children.

COMPASSION

I am sure that no person is so far gone that he can’t be redeemed by our compassion and forgiveness.

A REASON TO LIVE

Finally, I am certain that each one of us has a purpose, a role to play in life that we alone can play.

Those are my top six. May I suggest that you take it upon yourself to expand on old Ben’s terrible twosome. Make your own list of stuff you can be certain about, things and values that make life worth celebrating. I guarantee that your list will beat the hell our of death and taxes.

Doorway To the Soul, The Magic of a Child’s Touch

Did you ever hold an infant or small child close to you and experience the way he or she will explore your face. The child is not at all hesitant to examine your face from a distance of even six inches. He will reach out and touch your cheeks, tweak your eyebrows, feel your nose. Utterly fascinated at the adventure, he will reach back and put his tiny fingers in your ears, all the while gazing intently at you, almost as though he is trying to see through your face into your soul.

I remember the first time I had this experience feeling initially sort of embarrassed at the closeness of the child’s face to mine. Wow! I was not used to that level of intimacy. Yet, something in me delighted in the innocent curiosity of a child. I found myself surrendering to my daughter’s intense exam, permitting her every move. Her tiny hands explored my face with a sense of wonder. Age spots, moles, she didn’t miss a wrinkle or blemish. It was all there in front of her. My naked face lay open to her eyes. No judgment was made on my facial flaws. No, she accepted my aging skin as she accepted me, unconditionally.

I recalled this experience the other day when a close friend of mine told me she was going to treat herself to a facial massage. My curiosity was aroused and I asked her what exactly happened at a facial massage. She told me it was very relaxing. The masseuse applies a soothing lotion to the face, working the oils in gently to help reduce the appearance of wrinkles and sagging of the facial muscles. The idea is to hide the blemishes of age and keep the skin feeling and looking younger.

I thought to myself, the adult to adult facial massages have little in common with the child to adult version. A child peering at your face is not trying to improve your appearance at all. The little one takes our pockmarks and warts in stride. We are who we are. He loves our wrinkles and sagging skin because they are part of us. They come with the territory, belonging to the person they love.

That’s why our hearts melt in the presence of innocent children. They seem to see right through our flaws into the soul within. Their love is pure because they see the goodness that lies within even the most imperfect of us.

We can’t ask professional therapists to give us facials that compare with those we receive from children. Only babies and little kids have the gift, maybe because only children look upon the face of God.

The Measure of a Person Lies not in Feelings but in Actions

Rabbi Kushner, author of “When Bad Things Happen to Good People,” tells the story of a young couple who asked him to officiate at their marriage. They requested that he change the words of the wedding ceremony from “until death do us part” to “as long as our love shall last.” When the Rabbi asked them why they wanted the change, the couple explained, “We would not want to stay together if we no longer loved one another.” Shucks! Isn’t that beautiful? No it’s not.

Kushner, to his credit, turned down their request. He told them that yes he understood that many marriages end in divorce but there is something more important at stake than how they may “feel” about one another in 20 years. “Love, real love,” said the Rabbi, “calls for commitment to one another.” Commitment trumps feelings anytime just as real love goes way beyond infatuation.

Feelings, it seems to me, have taken center stage in today’s culture. For some, feelings have become the sole arbiter of what is right or wrong. If something feels right, it is right.
Not in my book. What makes us truly moral human beings is not how we feel towards one another but how we act.

I recall a woman in a support group I facilitated for caregivers of people living with Alzheimer’s disease. Her 90-year-old Mom, while in the final stages of her dementia, had just staged another miraculous recovery from a heart attack. “I was afraid Mom was going to die,” said her daughter. “At the same time,” she admitted, “I was afraid she wouldn’t.” She looked at the rest of the group for our reaction, perhaps a little embarrassed at the implications of what she had said. She needn’t have been ashamed. Everyone in the group could relate to what she was experiencing. No one knows mixed feelings better than caregivers for people with Alzheimer’s.

What was far more important was that she was hanging in there. She continued to stand by her Mom despite her mixed feelings. It’s been said that half the battle in life is simply showing up. This daughter may have felt like walking but she continued to show up for her mom.

Rabbi Kushner was making the same point to the young couple on the verge of marriage. Commitment trumps feelings anytime.

The Measure of a Person Lies not in Feelings but in Actions

Rabbi Kushner, author of “When Bad Things Happen to Good People,” tells the story of a young couple who asked him to officiate at their marriage. They requested that he change the words of the wedding ceremony from “until death do us part” to “as long as our love shall last.” When the Rabbi asked them why they wanted the change, the couple explained, “We would not want to stay together if we no longer loved one another.” Shucks! Isn’t that beautiful? No it’s not.

Kushner, to his credit, turned down their request. He told them that yes he understood that many marriages end in divorce but there is something more important at stake than how they may “feel” about one another in 20 years. “Love, real love,” said the Rabbi, “calls for commitment to one another.” Commitment trumps feelings anytime just as real love goes way beyond infatuation.

Feelings, it seems to me, have taken center stage in today’s culture. For some, feelings have become the sole arbiter of what is right or wrong. If something feels right, it is right.
Not in my book. What makes us truly moral human beings is not how we feel towards one another but how we act.

I recall a woman in a support group I facilitated for caregivers of people living with Alzheimer’s disease. Her 90-year-old Mom, while in the final stages of her dementia, had just staged another miraculous recovery from a heart attack. “I was afraid Mom was going to die,” said her daughter. “At the same time,” she admitted, “I was afraid she wouldn’t.” She looked at the rest of the group for our reaction, perhaps a little embarrassed at the implications of what she had said. She needn’t have been ashamed. Everyone in the group could relate to what she was experiencing. No one knows mixed feelings better than caregivers for people with Alzheimer’s.

What was far more important was that she was hanging in there. She continued to stand by her Mom despite her mixed feelings. It’s been said that half the battle in life is simply showing up. This daughter may have felt like walking but she continued to show up for her mom.

Rabbi Kushner was making the same point to the young couple on the verge of marriage. Commitment trumps feelings anytime.

The Soft Breath of God

I am convinced that there are moments in our lives when the Creator of the Universe makes his presence known by softly breathing his spirit, into a situation in our lives. I felt the breath of God last month when one of our village “alumni” gave me a ticket to attend his graduation from high school. “Bret” had only four tickets allotted to him so I felt honored to be given one of them.

Any parent who has had to endure a long graduation ceremony for one of their kids can understand that his well meaning invitation was not an unmixed blessing. Graduation ceremonies have a way of going on and on and on. I knew in advance that I would be sitting in a crowded football stadium, under a hot summer sun, craneing my neck and eyes to catch so much as a glimpse of my kid among the nine hundred graduates.

But nothing could have kept me from the graduation ceremony of this particular foster kid. The soft breath of God blew on me and I knew I had to show up for him at his significant moment in his life. Call it conscience or sense of duty or good old fashioned guilt; there was no way I was going to miss this event.

Blessed with a free will, we are faced with dozens (hundreds?) of choices every day.

The nuns used to tell us we each had two angels sitting on our shoulders. The bad demon was on the left, telling us what NOT to do, while our good angel on the right shoulder was urging us to do the right thing.

Whether it’s the voice of God or his angel sometimes his whisper is more like a shout. “Thou shalt not kill.” “Thou shalt not covet they neighbors wife,” “Honor the father and thy mother.” But more often, the Spirit of God communicates his wishes for us through that quiet inner voice we call conscience. God tells us when it is time to forgive someone who has hurt us or when it is time to stand up for what is right or to be grateful for the gifts we have received, but He/She is speaking in a whisper.

Aye! There’s the rub. How can we hear that soft voice of the spirit through the bedlam we have created in our modern world. I don’t know. But I do know that if we do not forge a quiet space for ourselves, we will not only be unable to hear the voice of God, we won’t even be able to hear one another or give our children the one-on-one attention they crave. be able to carry on a civilized conversation with one another, or give our kids the quality one-on-one time they crave.

I’m trying to put aside some time for meditation these days because unless I do, I won’t be able to hear that inner voice. God knows how many times I missed God’s promptings in the past but this time, for once, I got it right and was there for a kid named Bret.