NOTE: The names in this story have been changed
to protect the identity of the family. BUFF is shown below with other
children who come to visit him.
"Wow," I exclaimed as I placed the phone back
on its cradle. "How do I get myself into these situations?" But as I
sat alone in my office on that cold November day, there was no one to
answer.
The call had come from a young woman who, with
her three children, was staying in a shelter for victims of domestic
violence. Between hysterical sobs she squealed, "I knew this was
coming, but I just didn't think it would happen so soon. What do I tell
my children? I am so scared for them."
In the gentlest, most calming voice I could
muster, I assured her that the courts would not require supervised
visits with the children's father if they were not totally comfortable
with my ability to keep everyone safe. As a child and family therapist
who has worked in the field for many years, I am very aware of abuse
and neglect issues, but still feel my stomach get twisted in knots with
each new story I hear.
I would pick the children up on Wednesday
evening and bring them to my home where their father would come and
spend a few hours with them. Meeting at my home was an unusual twist,
but due to my need to transport the children to and from the shelter,
it was the best plan I could think of.
That evening, while reading in front of the
fire, I heard my office phone ring. Thinking it was my husband calling
from a hunting trip in Kansas, I ran to the phone.
"Hello," I sang into the phone.
"Mary, this is Lisa calling, I talked with
you earlier today about my children's visit with their father.
"Yes, Lisa, how are you?"
"Not very good," she replied. "I was talking
with my daughter, Jenny, about the visit and she is so scared I just
know she won't be able to sleep tonight. I thought maybe you would be
willing to talk with her."
Then on the phone came the sweetest, most
incredibly innocent voice you can imagine.
"Hello," she said.
"Hello, who is this?" I reply, trying to
match the tone on the other end.
"This is Jenny."
"Hello, Jenny, this is Mary. How old are
you, Jenny?"
"I am seven years old."
After going through several more questions to
make small talk, I enter the territory of the unknown. Describing my
job in seven-year-old language makes it sound so simple and innocent,
but Jenny breaks in with her issues.
"I'm scared of my Daddy," she says.
After reassuring her that there was nothing to
be afraid of at my house, I am at a loss for words because what can you
say to someone who has all the reason in the world to be afraid of
someone else? And when that someone else is supposed to be the care
provider, protector, and hero in a child's life ...
"Guess what I have at my house," I say
realizing that bribery is maybe not the most ethical tool to use at
this point, but the only tool I could find at the moment.
"I don't know," says Jenny.
"Well, he has four hooves, a mane and tail,
and very small children can ride him."
"You have a HORSE?" Jenny asks with the
sound of awe and envy twisted through every word.
"Well, he's a pony and he is only 36" tall,
and he is as fat as he is tall. And he needs someone to brush and love
him because my daughter is gone away to college."
"I will come and brush him" says this small,
sweet voice unable now to mask her excitement...
Jenny goes on to tell me that she is going to be a singer
when she grows up. "Would you like to hear a song?," she asks? Then, in
the sweet voice of a seven year-old comes a song about a little girl
and her pony. Jenny is clearly adlibbing the song as she goes along,
which makes it all the more special.
When her mother comes back to the phone, I hear a voice
the background telling the mothers all about "her" pony. Lisa thanks me
and tells me that for the first night in many she feels her daughter
will be able to sleep through the night.
As I return to my fire, I bow my head and
pray. "If there is truly magic in my pony, BUFF, please give it all to
Jenny."
*******
UPDATE: Jenny has had several visits with
BUFF--and YES!--he is working MAGIC!!!
