But… I Didn’t Order this Life - Part I

Sometimes, when I'd sit down to reflect on what had gone wrong - what I had done wrong - I would realize that in spite of all my imperfections as a mother, I had really done the best I could do with this child God had given me, and all I could say sometimes to comfort myself - to make some sense of it - was, "I love her to pieces, but this is not the child I ordered."

Indeed, if we could only sit down with a great big list and check off what we want in life - what we'd like to order. You know, when you're in a nice hotel they have those breakfast door hanger menus. All you have to do at night is check off what you want for breakfast, hang it on the other side of the door before you go to bed and your morning meal - made to order - arrives at your room (at the requested time, of course) the next morning. So, if life was like that, the menu might read: Well-paying job that you enjoy - Check. House in a great neighborhood - no cracks in the plaster, no termites, no leaks - Check. Struggles with finances - Skip that one! Well adjusted children who excel in school, never get hurt, and have lots of friends from fine, functional families - Check. Job you never thought you'd have to do - Skip it. Nice nest egg in the bank - Check. But, you know, real life just doesn't come with those breakfast door hanger cards, and I again came back to it. "I'm doing my very, very best with what and whom was given me, but this is certainly not what I ordered!"

So, we stayed in Manhattan at the hotel where the event was being held. In our comings and goings, Kelly and I rode the elevator with the participants. They seemed nice enough. They were friendly and polite, worked as plumbers, teachers, office workers, accountants. So far, so good.

I knew the Friday night event was to be held in our hotel, so curfew was set at a liberal 2:00am. My automatic mom clock woke me at 2:03am Saturday morning. Paige was not there. There was a sick feeling in my gut and a fiery burning in my chest and throat. Had I made a huge mistake by letting her go? Where was she? Was she even in the hotel, or out there, on the streets of New York? My imagination ran wild with every horrible possibility. She knew our family rule - be home by curfew or call before that time. There's a ten-minute grace period, then if you're a no show, mom goes completely and totally ballistic and sends out the bloodhounds, the National Guard, and the S.W.A.T team. She knew that. After thinking of my 12 years of working nights in the emergency room and seeing way too many kids who went out for a fun evening never make it home alive, I became wild with worry and anxiety held me in its grip. I lay in the dark, clinging desperately to my prayers for Paige's safe and soon return, yet told myself that if she didn't walk through that door within the next five minutes I'd lose my mind...

to be continued....