The Examined Life.

I want you to think back on your life; all of it. From if you were a preemie to the relationship you had with your father to if you were spanked to how you did in school to the sexual relationships you had to the drugs you did or didn't do to the regrets you have and the missed opportunities and things accomplished and what went right and what went wrong and how many do-overs you wish you had and what physical ailments if any that you have and your ideas about God and punishment and how you would handle this thing and that thing and the other thing. And I want you to spend months writing it all down; in essay form and questionnaire form and multiple answer form and all of the pages and pages in between. And when you're done; after you've read and re-read and edited and re-edited and had your husband and your mom and your best friend look at it until they just didn't want to know anything more about you, I want you to look at that STACK. It's a pretty hefty stack no doubt. Probably 70 something pages or so. And I want you to ask yourself, 'Is it ALL in there? Does that stack represent WHO I am? After reading it, could you walk away and be able to describe in detail what it means to be Whitney Kay Goble? Satisfied? Ok.

Now I want you to imagine a panel of about 12 people sitting around a table and reading through the 70 pages of notes on your life; yes, all the nitty gritty details, all the boring details, all the in between details.

Now I want you to imagine that panel of people, with that 70 pages of notes spending an hour or two determining if you were 'fit' to be a mother and not only a mother but a mother to several little babies to whom you have already knitted your soul.

Keeping in mind they have never met you. They will likely NEVER meet you. And even if your caseworker does a bang up job and even makes an adorable little scrapbook of you so that they can get a 'feel' of who you are, how could they possibly REALLY know?

They won't have access to your smile or the way you tell a story or the way you make people feel. They will never know what great hugs you give or how passionate you are or how psychotic you can be when you have found that THING; that thing that drives you. They won't ever get to see your kid friendly and fun holiday snacks or how good you are at organizing or how creative you can be or how, at family parties, you can be found on the floor playing checkers with the kids. They won't know about that time you stood, all 5'4'' of you, in between 40 very at risk youth and young adults who were about to start, what most likely would have been a fatal gang fight and talked them down with logic and humor and capri suns. Or that time, in order to keep your staff safe that you had to lock yourself in a room for hours with that boy who was so emotionally disturbed that you weren't sure if he would kill you, or himself first. Or the fact that you get up at 5am every morning just to 'practice' being a mom and the time it will take you to get everything done in order for everyone to have as successful of a day as possible. Or the hours you spend on your knees, in tears, in prayer over the lives of the children who did not come from your womb but who have been born of your heart.

And then I want you to imagine trying to 'RELAX' as the second hand on the clock ticks about 10,800 times while those 12 people read through that 70 pages of notes to try and make 1 decision about the lives and those several little kids and one hopeful mommy and daddy.

Yeah. I didn't think so either.