I Am Not Their Mother, But....

Now that we have been in Cincinnati over a month, Laura and I have started to really get to know the children with whom we work. The funny thing I wasn’t quite expecting, but love none the less, is how much I really care about these kids. My connection to them is kind of hard to explain, so I thought I would continue the trend from last week and give a list of examples of just how I feel like a mother, or at least a big sister, to these kids.

- I am genuinely happy for Cameron when he exclaims happily that he gets to light the candles on the altar at the beginning of the church service on Sunday. I watch intently and with a big smile on my face as he carefully lights each one.

- My heart just melts when I hear the kids shouting “Miss Anne, Miss Anne!”

- I worry about Andrew when he misses a Sunday and the Halloween celebration. Though my worry is relieved when he walks through the door for breakfast the next Sunday morning.

- I don’t know quite how to react when Jermaine tells me he was suspended from school for a few days for getting into a fight. I settle on a little admonishment about how that isn’t very good, and that he can’t get suspended again because he has already met his self imposed quota of one suspension a year. Big sisterly enough, but not quite motherly, I’ll leave that to his real mom.

- I happily praise the toddler girls as they come down the big slides at the park with smiles on their faces and land chest deep in leaf piles.

- On a Wednesday afternoon at my dining room table, I try really hard to think back to 4th, 5th, and 6th grade and how I learned division and multiplication because there is homework to be completed before we can eat the cookies Laura has baking in the kitchen.

- I fall into bed on a Sunday evening, tired and hoping that I’ve had a positive impact on the kids today. However, I realize that as much as I love these kids, I have just satisfied any momentary desire I might have for children of my own, and I am quite happy for the silence in the house as I drift off to sleep.

Note: The names of the children have been changed because I wouldn’t be motherly unless I thought about protecting their identity :)

Blessings,

Anne