The Fragile

Two years ago today my only child was born.  The earth definitely moved, and has been moving since, all for the very best.

Though I woke up with memories of wonder and amazement at her life, I also woke up to read this: 

The poverty rate in America is 13.2 percent, according to the US Census Bureau. In West Virginia, the rate is 17.2 percent, and recent figures indicate that 23.9 percent of West Virginia’s children live in povertySustained Outrage

I am aware of this figure.  The one-in-four statistic is like a nightmare from which you desperately want to wake, but can’t.  I thought this reality was the worst, but then I read something else this morning that may overtake the pain of the one-in-four. 

As you hear elected officials talk about cutting programs that care for children as “tough decisions” chew on this, if you will, in the context of politics and child poverty:

“These days, we take pride in being tough enough to inflict pain on others. If an older usage were still in force, whereby being tough consisted of enduring pain rather than imposing it on others, we should perhaps think twice before so callously valuing efficiency over compassion.” The Goat Rope

When I brought home a fragile 7 pound life two years ago, I was overcome with the reality of our responsibility to children.  I am frankly unconcerned with what the adults in the equation “have earned” or “deserve” or whether or not they are living up to their “personal responsibility.”  Would it be nice I didn’t have to take care of other people’s kids?  Um, yes.  Yes it would.  I’ve got my hands full over here.

But here’s the rub — these kids in poverty aren’t “other people’s kids”, not really.  They are my kids.  They are your kids.  First and foremost they are God’s children.  One day they will inherit the earth, and it matters a whole hell of a lot how well they are cared for now and how well they grow up.  It is absolutely imperative that we separate what these children so desperately need from our feelings about their parents.

If you have children it should scare you to death that if you couldn’t find a job, or got sick, or developed a raging substance abuse problem, that the greater community would tsk tsk it away and your child would be left to slowly disappear off of the social radar through no fault of his or her own.  This is completely unacceptable and is the behavior of a species that wants to go extinct.

We need to be in the business of strengthening the fragile.  That’s our job as adults when it comes to kids.  There are some things that don’t deserve “sustained outrage,” they deserve to get fixed permanently.  Will there always be poverty?  Probably.  But there doesn’t have to always be confusion about our moral obligation to children.

Bitten

There are things that are all but inevitable, and being bitten is one of them.

Most people begin to engage animals as young children.  Usually it’s first a family pet, and when that goes well we venture to the pets of other families, and so on.  The law of averages says that the sooner you start keeping company with wild things and the longer you live, the greater the odds it’s going to happen.

Knowing that it is part of life and nearly 100% guaranteed at some point doesn’t make it any easier when it’s your child.  A few days ago my daughter was bitten by a cat she absolutely adores, and has practically worshipped the whole two years of her life. 

I don’t blame the cat or the child.  It just is something that happens.  But that instant of pain and confusion was awful, and something I could have gone my whole life without seeing.

Thankfully, I don’t think my child associates the pain she felt with the animal she trusts.  It happened so quickly and was not connected to a specific action, and I think she has no idea the cat bit her; in fact, minutes later she was calling after the cat and acting as if nothing had happened.  It’s a beautiful thing to watch the very young just move on.  Maybe it was a misunderstanding.  Or maybe it was two living things who did just fine most of the time but are hardwired to disconnect spontaneously at random intervals forever.

What would the world be like if we could all just move on every time we are bitten?