Years ago we joined the ranks of adoptive parents who discover the fairy tale can be a real nightmare. I truly believed that nurture, structure, and faith could solve any problem. I was wrong.
People with problems have problems. Some things can’t be fixed.
The effect of this searing life-lesson continues to pummel our family. We face disruptive challenges daily. Our lives are made even harder by ignorant, mean, and angry comments.
The noisy gongs of judgment simply cannot understand that every single person is an uncontrolled mix of genetics, chemistry, nutrition, environment, relationships, and experiences. Sometimes that mix causes damage that cannot be undone. The concept of personal responsibility, free will, free agency, or whatever you call it is worthless.
Some people don’t have strength, ability, or knowledge to pull themselves up by the bootstraps. Some were never issued any boots, and others had them stolen.
Like it or not, like them or not, some people need help – often for the rest of their lives – from people who have more.
Political fighting about “entitlements” exposes many folks who refuse to understand real life problems. They believe people bring difficulties upon themselves. They actually say that if you have troubles, you did something to deserve them.
The chorus is sung loudly and often: It’s their fault, and they should do something.
9% of children in our state live with relatives, rather than with either parent. Most of us who take in these children are grandparents, and starting another family in retirement was not part of any plan. Our housing doesn’t accommodate little ones. We can’t afford their health insurance. We didn’t budget for car seats, braces, or sports fees.
So for the first time in our lives, our family is receiving public assistance. Our granddaughter is covered by Medicaid and gets a monthly stipend. She receives WIC and qualifies for Head Start. Our retirement income and child tax credits let us join 47% of Americans who pay no federal income tax.
We’ve become freeloaders and takers, sucking on government’s tit, members of the welfare state, and unmotivated to work. That’s exactly how we’re ridiculed by politicians, commentators, and even church people. We’re called moochers, lazy, and other ugly names.
Clearly, we are at fault, and we should do something.
But wait.
Our granddaughter, Bitsy, has parents. Bitsy’s mother, Polly, is our adopted daughter. Polly joined our family when she was seven-years-old. Beautiful, cheerful, totally messed-up Polly grew into an alcoholic and drug addict who was abused by the sex industry. Now, she lives on disability in public housing and struggles with chronic mental illness and relapsing addiction. Bitsy’s father, Roy, is also a drug addict, dealer, and thief, spending six-to-twelve years in prison.
Clearly, Bitsy’s parents are at fault, and they should do something.
Hold on.
Polly’s biological parents met at a state hospital, where they were treated for mental illness and substance abuse. Polly’s birth-mother used drugs and alcohol while she was pregnant, and Polly had to be resuscitated when she was born. Then Polly’s birth-parents catastrophically abused, neglected, and ultimately abandoned her. Polly was in multiple foster homes and labeled un-adoptable when we got her at age 7. Meanwhile, Roy was the by-product of a one-night-stand between two alcoholics. Roy never knew his father, who committed suicide. His mother worked as hard as she drank, so she wasn’t around much.
Clearly, it must have been Bitsy’s biological-grandparents who were at fault, and they should have done something.
Go back.
Where do we stop? Surely it can’t be with Bitsy’s maternal grandmother who was also horrifically abused as a child, and gave birth to Polly and four other children before the age of 19. It can’t be with Bitsy’s maternal grandfather who – following family military tradition – acquired drug-induced schizophrenia after horrific combat experience. It can’t be with Bitsy’s other inebriated grandmother who watched her 10-year old sister dismembered and killed when their own drunken mother drove them in front of a train. It can’t be with the suicidal grandfather who was beaten incessantly as a child in the name of some religion.
Clearly, it must have been Bitsy’s great-grandparents who were at fault and they should have done something.
People with problems have problems. Some things can’t be fixed. Like it or not, like them or not, some people need help – often for the rest of their lives – from people who have more.
The way to start helping is to stop. Stop calling anyone a freeloader, taker, moocher, lazy, or other demeaning term. Stop making degrading statements about sucking from government’s tit, the welfare state, or insisting that 47% of us don’t take responsibility. Stop making judgments about people you do not know or understand.
Stop thinking that your heredity, experiences, and opportunities are readily available to everyone else. Stop trampling people who will likely need help for the rest of their lives.
And then, hope with all your might that you will always be someone who has more.