Cursing At God

Last week I met with a girl for the first time. I'm going to call her Keisha. She's between 7 and 10 years old. She is in foster care. I'd asked her about her mom last week and she told me that she doesn't want to live with her mom anymore, but she declined to give details. I met with Keisha again today and she opened up a little more about her mother and said simply that she'd been hit by her mother. I talked to her foster mother a little more. The foster mother filled me in on the horrible details of her case.

Apparently the girl's mother has done things like lock her in closets, put a bag over her head in an attempt to suffocate her, and left her alone for long periods of time. The little girl has talked about wanting to kill herself. I'd asked the girl what she did for Halloween last year and she said that she didn't get to celebrate it, because her mother had been upset with her. I'd asked her if she wanted to talk about the bag and she said no. While we were at the playground today I explained to her that she did nothing to deserve the things her mother had done to her, but sometimes people are just mad at the world and they take their frustrations out on the wrong person. I urged her not to be the kind person that does the same thing.

There is a court case this week that will determine whether or not the little girl goes back to her mother or if she will be allowed to go live with other relatives. When I dropped her off at home, her foster mother encouraged her to be positive. I rubbed her head and stroked it gently and told her to be brave. Her foster mother and I shared our stories of having unhappy childhoods, but emerging from them and able to be good mothers with loving relationships with our children. I told Keisha that my mom told me to drop out of college, but I didn't. I urged her again just to hold on, to become an adult so that she could make her own decisions. She looked up and told me that this would probably be the last time we'd see each other. I hugged her and urged her not to say that. I stood behind her as tears ran down my face. I dried my eyes and wrote my phone number down and I told her that no matter what, she could ALWAYS call me. It didn't matter what time of day or night, she would have me. After a few minutes, I bid her adieu and told her that I would call to check on her.

I got into the car and had to sit there for five minutes to compose myself. I cried until I couldn't see. Such a little girl shouldn't have to deal with this. All I could think to myself is that someone should pray for her. We should ALL pray for her. That's when I started to say to myself that there has to be a God. Because who or what do we cling to in cases like hers? I don't know if I believe in a higher power, but moments like that, I look to the heavens and hope that someone, somewhere out there is listening to the little Black girl from College Park, Georgia. I drove up the street and had to stop because I'd started crying again. I called one of my best friends and asked her to pray for the little girl. But that's when I got angry. Where the fuck is God?! Who the fuck is God?! There can't be a fucking GOD! Because God, is supposed to sit in the clouds and make shit okay. God doesn't give little girls with hopes and dreams to fucked up people. That's not the God I knew about. So many people say how awesome God is when they see rainbows and mountains, but where is God for her? Even if she is placed with her other relatives, what kind of awesome omnipotent God would place a little girl in such horrible conditions, for a day, let alone for years on end?

So again, I'm back to square one. I guess I'd be considered agnostic, although I lean toward being an atheist. Because no kind of loving being would be sadistic enough to do this to a child.

But regardless of my issues, regardless of how you feel about me, regardless of what you feel about what I write, or my religious views, pray for her. Pray for her to be safe. Please, please, please, just pray for her.