a little respect

M and I were driving home last night rocking out to a little Aretha when Respect came on. Yes, it's overplayed, yes, I know. But as I was listening it reminded me of the work I did ten or so years ago at a group home for addicted throwaway jail destined teenage girls. We were a small house, six girls at a time with a therapeutic vibe, a tight staff and an intentionally loving atmosphere.

Some of the girls had been through more than others, by 14 some had been sexually active for a while, done a lot of drugs, spent time in juvenile hall. Most had been abused in one way or another. And whether gangbanger with blackened eyes or hardened little con woman, they all wanted love. They craved it. But they didn't know how to ask for it in healthy ways.

One girl was especially tough. She'd been so damaged early on by abandonment and violence she had a hard time connecting in any sort of meaningful way. She was preoccupied with boys and her looks and rarely was able to dig deeper. And we required digging. There was a lot of processing. Reflection. Feedback. Buttons were pushed, mine as well. But I felt such a strong connection to her, this vacant little heart who so desperately wanted to be mothered.

One night I was helping her clean up the kitchen, working together in silence. I started singing spontaneously what you want, baby i got, what you need, do you know I got it....and so on, probably butchering the words when a small voice behind started singing just a little bit and so on, rounding out the song. We started singing together but I never looked at her, I just kept on cleaning. It felt big, this moment in the kitchen, her voice getting louder, until the end we were both loudly R-E-S-P-E-C-Ting and socking it to me over and over. It was innocent and impromptu and beautiful.

When the song ended we both started laughing and she fell into my arms, hugging me tightly. It might not have been much, that moment in the kitchen, but it cracked open the door and we became very close over the year she was there, this child of my heart. It didn't stop her from giving me an enormously hard time occasionally, but I always took it as a compliment because it meant she felt safe enough to let her guard down and know she'd still be loved.

In other news: my blog is 365 days old today. Happy Blog Birthday to me. And more importantly, thank you for making me feel so welcome. I can't tell you how much this has meant to me, getting to know so many of you. I had no idea a community like this existed, and now I couldn't imagine it not.