Journal of a Living Lady #165

 

Nancy White Kelly

 

Mother’s Day has come and gone. Another Hallmark Day. Not that I don’t enjoy the special day. It is just that some things shouldn’t be commercialized. Mothers fall into that category. I’ve never been a fan of store-bought cards anyway. I always told my boys that I would much prefer a hand-made one like they did in grammar school. I still have a few of those tucked away in a cardboard box in the attic. Charlie wrote me a sweet note with his flower pot this year. He said, “Happy Mother’s Day! This is a special day for a special mother. I’m glad you are still here with me to share in all these life changes. That is the best gift I can imagine.” That was a saver for sure. I am as grateful as he is that I am still here so I can enjoy him. Bobby too.

 

You haven’t read much about Bobby in my columns, probably because he is  our struggler. Most every family has one. He was our last foster child whom we adopted when he was ten-years-old. He wanted to have the same last name as we did. Bobby was one of those unintended babies born to unmarried lovers who were too young and irresponsible for parenting. Bobby bounced around without the normal nurturing a preschooler deserves. When he ended up at our house at the age of five, he was missing teeth, could not count to five and had never been to a zoo. All his life belongings fit into a torn paper sack.

 

Charlie, our birth son just a few months older, was already reading and playing serious piano. Bobby never caught up academically with his brother and, in time, decided to pursue a different direction as an adolescent. Now 21, he has a history that we aren’t too proud of, yet the good news is that he is turning around.

 

I won’t bore you with the details or entertain you either. Just know that there was a dramatic religious experience in his life that happened a few weeks ago and has culminated in our prodigal son returning home to open arms. He has a lot of baggage to deal with, but with some help he is setting goals and working toward them. I look forward to sharing more about this son, our diamond in the rough, some other time. If you are an advocate of the underdog, join Buddy and me in an Eskimo cheer for Bobby: MUSH! (Moving upward, son. Hurrah!)

nancyk@alltel.net