Did the Authorities Cross the Line in Texas?

I watched interviews last night on Nightline and again this morning on Good Morning America with three women who live on the polygamist compound in Texas that’s been in the news. Talk about a video oxymoron; here are these three wholesome-looking, immaculately clean women dressed in simple clothing who look like poster children for the Amish. Then, they start to speak. With haunting voices devoid of emotion, they spoke of missing their children, loving their children, and described their ranch as “heaven on earth.” Brainwashed or drugged, I can’t be certain, but these women are real, true-life Stepford Wives, and they are frightening. Or rather, whatever it is that has shaped them is frightening.

I cannot imagine living a life that must be so controlled, so contrived, so isolated and so ingrained, that there is no question that there might be other options. My heart broke for them, and for their children. Regardless of how these children came to even be, they are still children, and their mothers love them with all their hearts and miss them with a pain that only a mother could know. That much managed to push its way through the almost catatonic cloud enveloping the women; these are mothers whose children have been taken away and they are wracked with grief.

One may argue that the hundreds of children removed from the compound were in harm’s way. BUT, this is the only life these children have ever known; what must it be like for them to be thrust into the foster care system, made to live with people, who dress, speak and act so differently from what they know? If indeed, life in the compound is “heaven on earth,” then are these poor children now living in some kind of hell? I am keeping them in my prayers.

I don’t know what the answer is here, and I’m sure we’ll be learning more. Did the authorities cross the line?

Until Next Time,

Joan McCue

(c) 2008 Joan McCue All Rights Reserved

Just Wait ‘Til My Daughter Gets Home!

Oh man I am in BIG trouble. Big. Huge. I’ve done it now.

My teenage daughter had lost the use of her cell phone (THAT’s a whole ‘nother story). But, as with many privilege-revoking consequences, I realized I really should have thought this one through. The fact is, I LIKE that she text-messages me when she gets test grades during the day or just to ask me how my day’s going. I LIKE that she can call me or text me when she’s ready to be picked up from practice or that I can text her when I pull into the school’s driveway so I don’t wait for her forever.

So, this morning when she was getting ready to leave for school, I told her she could have her phone back. I ran up to my bedroom to retrieve it from my nightstand drawer, and IT WASN’T THERE. She could see the bus coming up the hill to our house, so she had to go. I told her I’d have it for her later.

I CAN’T FIND THE STUPID THING. What in God’s name did I do with it?? Losing a teen’s cell phone? What mom worth her salt does such a thing?

Until Next Time (I’ll be praying to St. Anthony)

Joan

(c) copyright 2008 Joan McCue All Rights Reserved

Closing the Door

I love working from home, I really do. But, the one thing that I struggle with is also the most valuable aspect of WFH–availability to my family. I find it a real challenge sometimes to know when to close the door at the end of my workday (which typically coincides with the end of the school day) and switch gears from writer to mom and wife. Conversely, when I’m faced with a particularly difficult (or boring) assignment, it’s a challenge to stay here behind my door, crank out copy and avoid the temptation to empty the dishwasher or start another load of wash. The house, my other life, is RIGHT THERE, on the other side of the door and it can be hard to ignore when I need to, or it can take a really shameful backseat to my writing. Maybe the trick is to not close the door, not leave it wide open, but just crack it a little, so my two worlds can seep slowly into each other and gradually mix instead of one splashing the other away like a bucket of water thrown over a sidewalk chalk masterpiece.

How do you find the balance if you WFH?

Until Next Time,

Joan

(c) 2008 Joan McCue All Rights Reserved