"I have no sympathy for a mother like that."

I thought I had cheated the system. My American Airlines credit card offered a mile for every dollar, and I was going to make sure my daughter and I earned free trips to Hawaii when she graduated from high school. So, for years I used my credit card for everything, even when I had cash on hand, patting myself on the back each time for outsmarting American Airlines. 

Sure enough, when the time came, Mary Susan and I booked first class tickets to Hawaii, completely free. I was anxious for her to have the same first class experience to Hawaii that her father and I enjoyed on our honeymoon (minus losing my luggage and having to wear clothes with the hotel logo on them for two days because all the stores were closed for Easter). But first class was no longer what it was back then, even on the long flight from Dallas to Oahu. Gone were the recliner sized seats and heated blankets. And gone was the chef with the tall white chef’s hat, that rolled out a Texas-sized prime rib to carve to order. (Can you believe they ever did that?) Quite the contrary, the seats were only average, the service was miniscule, and other than the curtain separating us from the smarter travelers who got the same thing for less, first class was less than notable.

When we reached the bustling Dallas airport, we had quite a trek to our tight connecting flight and decided to ride the airport subway. As we began to board, warnings came on loud and clear that the small window of time to hop on was quickly ending. Much to my horror, right after my daughter stepped aboard, the bells rang, and the doors began to close.

That moment was forever burned in my memory. I looked at my daughter’s panicked expression on the other side of the doors and in that split second, I played the scenario in my head of how difficult it would be to find each other once the train took off. (This was before cell phones.) And even though it was not likely, I suddenly had a tremendous fear I might never see her again – and it would be my fault.

So, just like the mothers who suddenly have the strength to lift a car off their children, I grabbed the doors that were nearly closed and pulled with all my might until I forced them open. I quickly stepped inside, thankful the nightmare was over.

Well, it was over for us, but not for everyone else and I’m sure the ripple effect was endless. My actions caused the train to sound an alarm and shut down completely after only a few yards in the dark tunnel. It was nearly forty-five minutes before it started moving again. The car was hot as blazes with no fresh air, people were missing connecting flights, several women cried, and another became hysterical from claustrophobia. I had created quite a mess, but I knew I would do it all over again if presented with the same risk of losing my daughter – despite the hateful, disapproving glares from the other passengers.

Many of the women we serve at Blue Monarch have experienced much worse loss and panic (and judgement), but their nightmares were not over in a matter of minutes. For some, the painful separation from their children has lasted years. Yes, years.

I once had a volunteer who was involved with Blue Monarch for the wrong reasons. In fact, it was because of her that we began examining the motivation behind wanting to serve or work at Blue Monarch because intentions are not always healthy ones. She said, “Honestly, I have no sympathy for a mother who mistreats her child.” That statement pierced my heart on behalf of the women we serve – and told me she was not a good fit for our ministry.

It was obvious this woman was only looking at the circumstances on the very surface. But there is so much more. There are hundreds of reasons a mother may find herself in a place that causes the loss of her children. Perhaps she was taught to use drugs by her own parents and discovered they would numb the pain of physical and sexual abuse and now she can’t stop. Maybe she was still longing for the nurturing childhood she never had, making it impossible to be a mother herself. Maybe she wanted a loving relationship so badly, this desire caused her to overlook her children. There are many reasons, not necessarily good ones, but I don’t think any of them are deciding one day to be a bad mom.

Recently, one of our mothers poured out her heart through a recovery project she did in one of our classes. It was a sort of before-and-after story and the “before” was still quite fresh in her mind. 

Alexis began to reflect on the separation from her daughter and even though they are reunited now, the pain was still like an open wound. She wept as she said, “I missed her so much – I would even miss the smell of her hair.” I could totally relate because what mother doesn’t forever keep that scent in her head?

I realized in that moment that many people just assume a mother who has lost custody of her children doesn’t feel the loss. After all, she caused it, likely through selfish choices or poor decisions, so it probably doesn’t matter to her. But it does. And as the drugs leave her system and she begins to feel more deeply, the pain is even more intense.

The heartache our moms experience during the separation from their children is excruciating. I see it on their faces and in their body language. They struggle seeing all the kids who are with their moms because it makes them miss their own children even more. We assure them their day will come, but they want it right now.

A mother may be allowed periodic visits with her child as we navigate the complicated reunification process. But she can overreact when she sees the slightest bruise or scratch, just wondering if her child is being mistreated in her absence. She feels helpless to protect. She goes to bed each night wondering what her child is doing, is she okay? Is she crying for me? Will she remember me? Will she forgive me? Will this nightmare ever end?

There are many times when I think back on that woman’s statement: “I have no sympathy for a mother who mistreats her child.” But there’s one major point she failed to recognize. The mother is a grownup version of that child. 

Let me say that again. The mother (that she judges and loathes) is nothing more than a grown-up version of that child (for whom she feels compassion and empathy). And if that child doesn’t get help, she will eventually become the mom. But when the mom becomes a healthier parent, that dreadful cycle will stop. So, there IS hope.

Actually, I think Alexis says it best: “I am not my past – I am my daughter’s future.” And those are the words of a good mom.

Lord, thank you for Blue Monarch, a place where mothers can become healthy parents and children can learn what that means. Amen

"Can we address the ghost in the room?"

Sometimes the loudest person in the room is someone we cannot see or hear. It’s the dad. Even though he may be in prison, missing in action, or even dead, he walks among us, lives with us, and his presence is undeniable. 

Because we serve moms and their kids, we often forget there is a father out there somewhere who plays a prominent role – even if we never see him. Perhaps we have simply become accustomed to the fact that fathers are typically not a part of the families we see.

It’s no secret that the “family” has been under attack for quite some time and there is a significant shift that has taken place even in my lifetime.

For instance, although I knew my grandfather for only a few years, I still display this little dress where I can see it every day. He took me on an exciting shopping trip when I was only a toddler, which was such a special treat because it was just the two of us – something that rarely happened. Just looking at this dress gives me a warm feeling inside. The dress represents his love for me that I tangibly felt in that moment. (I can't help but notice my favorite color today was already my favorite color as a child.)

And even though I keep this velvet vest stuffed away in a closet, and it will never fit me again in a million years, I have preserved it all this time because my dad is the one who taught me to sew and it’s something we did together. He and I made it when I was a teenager, including the velvet covered buttons and satin lining. (He learned how to sew in the Navy and lied about his age to get in.)

Where are the memories like these for our Blue Monarch kids? They barely know their fathers, much less their grandfathers. But they are very aware something big is missing. And it’s the ghost in the room.

I often feel our boys want a father even more than their sisters do. They’re angry their fathers are not there for them and the easiest persons to blame are the moms. Surely, it’s the mother’s fault the father left. She must have done something to make him no longer want his family. So, the boys strike out at their moms (sometimes literally) out of overwhelming anger. 

And then there are the times when a mom must stand firm and not allow her son to spend time with his father, even if he’s available, because she knows he’s still in addiction. Or he is so unreliable, she can’t allow him to hurt their son anymore, and the only way to prevent disappointment and heartbreak is to remove the risk. I can't count the number of times I have seen a boy completely crushed when his father doesn't show up for a visit, call when he says he will, or do the thing he has promised.

But the children are not the only ones wrestling with the invisible man. Many times, I have heard a woman tearfully confess she struggles to bond with her son because she sees the face of his father every time she looks at him. I know. That’s hurtful to imagine, but I have heard this so many times, it’s a legitimate problem.

Of course, this is typically a case where the father of that boy was abusive, or the man hurt her so deeply she can’t even tolerate a younger version of his face.

Naturally, this develops into bigger issues because somewhere, deep down, the son knows he is treated differently than his sisters. He can’t help but pick up on the little subtleties. Perhaps his mom grabs for the hand of his sister but never reaches for his. Or she simply shows affection for his siblings in a way he never experiences himself. This is a disturbing phenomenon, something she is not proud of, and one we address and correct with time. (Yet another reason our program is a lengthy one, thank goodness.)

We currently have a six-year-old boy with over-the-top behavioral issues. This is not unusual for a child who has suffered severe trauma, but we eventually discovered the ghost in the room was at the center of his anger. Even though he has not seen his father since he was a two-year-old, (because his dad has been incarcerated) the boy is grieving the loss of that relationship. Perhaps he is observing other children at church or school with their fathers, and it is becoming more and more obvious his own is absent.

In the meantime, we’ve noticed this first grader is becoming increasingly attached to a special blanket. He wants to carry it everywhere he goes, which seems a little surprising at his age. But one day we realized, the blanket is covered in photographs that date back to the last time his father was in his life – when he was a two-year-old. Now it makes all kinds of sense and explains why he is so fiercely protective of it.

In much the same way my toddler dress and homemade vest are special to me, this blanket is a possession this boy cherishes and something to which he is emotionally attached. The difference is, my objects bring back good memories that are only part of the big scrapbook in my head. His memories stopped four years ago, and the blanket is all he has left.

So, what do we do about the ghost in the room that causes so much turmoil and heartache? Well, for the dads who decide they want to resurface in the child’s life, we have developed policies and procedures that equip the father to be a healthier parent, evaluate his level of commitment, and are designed to protect the child from further harm. Honestly, I wish courts would require the same.

For dads who will never return, we provide trauma therapy, mentorship, and counseling to help the child heal from the wounds left behind by the ghost in the room. In fact, we have seen unbelievable, supernatural healing for this. For example, we had a boy who witnessed the death of his father, leaving him traumatized and basically emotionless. He never changed the expression on his face and rarely interacted with other kids. But after working with his trauma, he eventually came to life in a dramatic way and began playing like all the other children. It was a miracle. And fortunately, these services are available to all our kids.

But here is the most important and effective treatment for our kids who suffer so much loss. Alongside their moms, we help the children establish a relationship with their Heavenly Father who will never let them down, will never leave, and will always love them no matter what. For the kids who truly grasp this truth, the ghost in the room eventually finds his appropriate spot where he no longer causes harm, and the children begin looking forward with expectation rather than dwelling in the past. 

When these boys become fathers to their own kids one day, I truly believe they will follow in the footsteps of the Father who healed them and held them tight. And at that point they will create happy memories for children who will never have to struggle with a ghost in the room.

"I don't eat here."

There was a new little cafe on the town square nearby and I was anxious to try it out. I plopped myself down at the best two-top by the window where I could watch the world outside, excited to have the best seat in the house. A girl was in the back corner meticulously designing a chalkboard to promote today’s lunch special. As an artist with a degree in graphic design, I noticed right away she was doing a great job. Good color choices, nice composition, clear handwriting.

When the server came to my table, I immediately noted her mouth was smiling, but her eyes were not. An insincere smile from someone who didn’t love her job. I ordered my usual iced tea, “half and half,” which has become code for half the sweet and half  the guilt. “What’s your favorite thing on the menu?” She quickly grumbled, “I don’t eat here.“ Every restaurant owner’s nightmare.

Despite the messenger’s lack of enthusiasm, my turkey sandwich was pretty good, and I enjoyed my lunch while I watched the girl in the back, still working on the chalkboard even though the cafe was already filling up with lunch customers and an entire booth was dedicated to her project. I had to remind myself; this was not my problem.

When the server stopped by my table, I requested a fill-up on my “half and half.” She snatched the glass off the table and said, “I’ll just have to start over because I have no way of knowing what half you drank already.” As a former restaurant owner, I thought I was helping by telling her she only had to split the remainder of the glass, she didn’t have to start over. (It didn’t have to be a science project.)

“Well, that won’t work because it will throw off the proportions completely.” She grabbed my glass, huffed as if I had no idea what I was talking about, and returned with a completely new glass just to make a point, leaving wasted tea and twice as many glasses to wash.

Determined to salvage my little eating out experience, I ordered dessert and took my time watching the artist in the back, still carefully working on the chalkboard. By the time I left, the lunch crowd was over, the cafe was empty again, but today’s special was now irrelevant because lunch was over and from what I could tell, no one even heard about it because the board was still unfinished and the disgruntled server never mentioned it. This was clearly a business that had lost sight of its North Star.

As one might imagine, the cafe went out of business within less than a year.

There are so many misconceptions about running a successful business and I am reminded of this every single day. Even though Blue Monarch is a ministry and non-profit, it is still a business. And it takes good people to make it work. 

The attitudes of the staff are so important. Our work requires a servant’s heart – not just someone looking for a paycheck. It requires someone who is emotionally invested in our mission as opposed to “I don’t eat here.” We look for folks who “bleed blue.”

And it also requires careful time management and protection of resources. We can’t spend our entire day focusing on the wrong thing. The lunch special must be out on the sidewalk before it becomes completely pointless.

Our leadership team recently went on a little retreat. I was anxious to spend more time with Deanna, Jeannie, and Tricia. And we were all looking forward to having the opportunity to plan and solve problems - things that are difficult to fit into our busy schedules. Honestly, our daily routine can sometimes feel like a train that never pulls into a station for a break. It’s scary to jump off because it’s too hard to jump back on a moving train! 

There was a time on our retreat when I looked around the table at the amazing team we have in leadership. I remember very well the days when I was attempting to do all their jobs – and I only knew a fraction of what they know. It’s also nice having others in leadership to share the enormous responsibilities of our organization and all the individuals in our care. I thought back on all the hundreds of nights I went to bed aware of the heavy load I was carrying by myself. 

As we discussed significant challenges with specific moms and kids and improvements to systems we have created from the needs of the population we serve, I was overwhelmed with the level of divine wisdom every person brought to the table. Each one is a rock star in her field and it’s overwhelming to see how carefully God prepared them for the roles they fill today. The life experiences that could never be taught in school, the personal events that gave them such strong hearts for our Blue Monarch families, and the hope God has instilled in them, which provides the stamina to keep going even when things look hopeless on paper. Honestly, I don’t think they noticed but it literally brought tears to my eyes when I looked at them and really thought about the personal sacrifices each had made, without complaint, to serve our families in the best way possible.

I listened as we discussed aggravating behavioral issues, frustrations with ones not doing their chores, conflicts between women (who typically have a lot in common), those repeatedly resisting advice, and all the ups and downs that come with loads of women and children living together in community. I felt like I had heard every single example a thousand times because it’s what we expect when new ones come into the program. It takes time and patience to navigate through these phases and get to the other side.

While it might be tempting to say, “Okay, next!” I couldn’t help but notice my team was expressing what I would describe as supernatural compassion and were instead saying, “Let’s try this because I still think she can do it.” When we celebrate graduations for the women we serve, I often feel it’s a graduation for our entire staff as well because we live through so many growing pains with them.

There is tangible evidence of how much our program has grown and strengthened since the days I felt like a lone ranger. I’m grateful for the lives that were impacted back then, but I often wish those families could come back for a do-over now that we have such an amazing team in place and our program has become so much richer.

Whereas sobriety used to be our goal, we now see complete and total freedom. Staying out of jail was a goal – but the goals today include college degrees and exciting careers. Not losing custody of one’s children was what we hoped and prayed for – but overcoming trauma while developing healthy, nurturing relationships is now a reality.

Just look at a recent group of Blue Monarch graduates: Cheyenne suffered from a ten-year cycle of addiction and homelessness, but she just recently earned her real estate license and is pursuing an exciting career. 

And who can forget Courtney’s testimony of growing up with no water or electricity, watching her pregnant mother take a bath in a cattle trough. But she just finished school to become a licensed phlebotomist, a pioneer in her family, ready to conquer the world. 

And there’s Hadassah, who is about to complete cosmetology school, a field she absolutely loves, and she just bought her first house. But she came to us with a long history of drug and alcohol addiction, following her husband’s death from an overdose, which traumatized her children. She was an overwhelmed mother of four, but she now has a happy, healthy family that has experienced lots of healing.

Because of the tremendous support of our amazing team (which includes TEN former graduates of Blue Monarch), the gifts and talents of each staff member, the financial support of so many generous folks who believe in what we do, and the magnificent healing grace of God, their lives and those of their children are totally new. It’s a miracle, really. But it helps that we love what we do, we focus on what’s important, and we understand how little time we have to get the lunch special out there before it’s too late. 

In other words, we never take our eyes off the North Star because the consequences can be devastating – but the benefits of staying on course are absolutely life changing.

So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. 1 Corinthians 3:7 NIV

"She had grit."

The image of that moment has been frozen in my mind for thirty years. It would make a perfect Norman Rockwell illustration, where each item, color, piece of clothing, and expression plays a critical part in a much larger story. 

The driver of the car was a young dark-haired woman, whose hands were fiercely gripped on the steering wheel with her elbows jutted out to the sides. Her face was pressed forward as if doing so might get her to her destination faster – sort of like a runner at the finish line. The modest car had apparently broken down and two young boys, dressed in their best church clothes, were pushing the car from the back bumper. The incline was steep so the boys were stretched out as far as they could reach, pushing with all their strength. A crying baby was in the back seat.

They were attempting to go to church and only had a few more yards before they could turn into the parking lot. I watched as several men and their families swerved around the car and turned in, completely ignoring this woman’s struggle. I couldn’t decide if they were embarrassed for her and thought it best to leave her alone, or if they simply didn’t care. 

The look on this mom’s face was something I will never forget. It was a mixture of frustration, exhaustion, and humiliation all at once. But the expression that rose to the top was sheer determination. She was not giving up and she had made up her mind to be a fighter. She had grit.

This woman worked for me. When I ran a horse farm for eight years, I always hired a woman as my live-in farm manager and when Julie took the job, she was married to a musician and had a small baby. But her husband soon left her and their infant – as well as his two children from a previous marriage. So, this incident just trying to take her newly structured family to church on a normal Sunday was just one more undeserved setback. I can imagine it was tempting to give up at that point.

I have always admired Julie for many reasons, but that moment and the expression on her face made a permanent impression on me. And I often see that same look today on the faces of the incredible women we serve at Blue Monarch.

Just the other day, as I was heading home, I found one of our moms down by the bus stop at the end of our driveway with her son and another resident. I rolled down my window and when she turned around, there was that same look. The “Julie look.” She was frustrated, exhausted, and embarrassed. Her son was refusing to walk home after getting off the bus and apparently this standoff had been going on for a while. Her friend was there for support, but didn’t seem to know how to help. I could see this mom was exasperated and close to tears. I’m sure it was tempting to revert to old discipline patterns that we don’t allow at Blue Monarch, so there was probably some resentment thrown in as well. It didn’t help that it was freezing cold, and her son was refusing to budge, even though he was clearly uncomfortable as he swayed back and forth to stay warm.

Nevertheless, despite all the other complicated emotions, the one that rose to the top in that moment was determination. Sheer grit. She was still willing to put forth the extra work, push through, and apply the parenting methods she had learned at Blue Monarch that have proven to work - even if they take lots of time and even more patience to get there.

The very next day, I saw that “Julie look” again. Another one of our moms has a little girl who is absolutely adorable. This child could be a child actor, and her personality is charming. However, there’s a very difficult side to this child that comes as a surprise because it’s in such a cute package. And because of her behavior, she often gets sent home from pre-school in the middle of the day. Once again, this little girl had to be picked up because she was misbehaving. 

“How many times has she been sent home?” I asked.

“This is the eighth time in just a few weeks,” the mom said. And there it was. The look. She was frustrated, exhausted, and humiliated. But with tears in her eyes she said, “I am going to get this. I am not giving up.”

These are the times when many moms would turn to drugs to cope if they were not at Blue Monarch with a supportive team circling around them. It’s the perfect storm if you think about it. Here is a mother who probably never saw healthy parenting growing up and in fact, may have been taught to use drugs by her own parents. She becomes an adult and has a child but by now she’s addicted to drugs and has no experience parenting her child sober. Then, because of what the child goes through, he develops some severe behaviors that are difficult to manage. And because of the chaos both have experienced, neither feels an attachment toward the other in the way most of us take for granted. So, now what?

Well, let’s add another element to that storm. We have all become very spoiled to taking the easy route. Think about it. We no longer need to do math, make change, remember a phone number, read a map, or even compose a sentence or correctly spell a word. We are slowly becoming lazy problem solvers. But that means our world is getting out of balance because in cases like the ones I just described, they must have the strength and fortitude to fight. There is no room for doing it the easy way or reverting to a device to fix it for them. It takes gut-wrenching, hard work and grit. 

I believe we sometimes long for a mountaintop experience, but we are not willing to climb the mountain to get there. 

However, a mother at Blue Monarch has made a commitment to climb that mountain. She puts on her combat boots every single morning before the sun comes up when she would rather sleep in. She struggles once again to get her kids ready for the day against all kinds of resistance. She maintains her Blue Monarch classes and recovery work, striving to apply every morsel she can in the short time she is with us. She does the difficult heart work and digs into her soul to see why she made the choices that landed her at a place like Blue Monarch. 

She takes a deep breath before her kids get back home in the afternoon and greets them with a smile and enthusiasm even though inside, she is afraid of the next outburst. She resists the temptation to strike out or yell when her child intentionally pushes the limits, and she finds the strength to embrace her child in the midst of his rage, and tell him she loves him, even though it still feels uncomfortable to say the words out loud. And she does this routine all over again the next day because yesterday she saw a tiny little glimpse of hope that her hard work was paying off - which may have been something as simple as, "I love you, Mama."

And that’s why the women of Blue Monarch are such warriors. They are willing to climb that mountain, despite the hard work and pain. And they get to relish that mountaintop experience – not because someone made it easy – but because they put in the enormous effort and earned every single bit of it, which they richly deserve.