It was halloween week in 2015. My middle son came home from school and told me about a girl in his class who didn’t have a costume…and he wanted to help. They had a costume parade planned for that Friday, and Ty didn’t want her to be the only one walking the halls in her normal clothes. He’s a boy after my own heart. I suggested he ask her what she wanted to be for Halloween the next day at school. Then we’d have that evening to shop, and he could bring her the costume the next day, just in time for the parade.
When he came home that night, he said “uhhh Mom…she wants to be a witch.”
I wasn’t prepared for that.
I never allowed my boys to be anything scary.
They were the three stooges, baseball players, panda bears, and non-creepy clowns. We kept it simple.
So I was faced with a dilemma. Because we wanted this young lady to fit in, and she wanted to be a witch.
Off to Target we went.
Being Halloween Eve, I wasn’t sure what to expect.
Well, there was one witch costume left. I can still see it hanging on the little silver lever …and I remember the moment I noticed that it was her size. One witch costume. Her size. The night before Halloween.
So I bought it.
And Ty took it to school the next day.
He said she was so appreciative, and I guess he told her that I bought it.
I remembered meeting her at one of the class parties in years past. I knew she had an attitude and liked to be rebellious. I’ve always been drawn to kids like that. I gave her extra Christmas candy. She never thanked me. But I know she felt the love.
Two years later, I got a call from the middle school where I was in charge of the “Pirate Pantry.” It was a classroom full of donated clothing and shoes, hygiene items, school supplies and snacks for kids in need. (My time in that space is what inspired me to start FOUND.) When my phone rang, I was already on my way to the campus. But I felt a sense of urgency when the secretary said “Shea, we sent a young lady down to the Pirate Pantry…she’s pretty hard to deal with but she needs a lot of things. Clothes and shoes at least. Probably hygiene.”
I will never forget walking in the door and seeing the girl who wore the witch costume two years before.
She still had an attitude.
But she lifted her head enough to see my face and she said “You Ty’s mom aren’t you.”
“I am.”
She remembered.
And she softened.
She told me what kind of clothes she wanted, we picked out some hygiene items together, and she found shoes and school supplies. Such simple things. But so necessary.
She had a rough time in school. Always getting in trouble, she would often get kicked off the bus and have to walk to and from her apartment. It was about two miles from the school. Maybe more. I picked her up a time or two. Took her to Chick Fil A once, and she’d never been there before. I was shocked. I knew my boys CFA orders by heart…and with her I had to explain the options, the sauces, and convince her to get a lemonade. She requested CFA a few more times after that. I was always delighted to bring it to her.
I heard that she got shot in the leg in high school. Not on campus, but over near her apartment complex. It sounded like a gang thing. She had to be in a wheelchair at school for awhile. Broke my heart.
Earlier this year I heard she was working at the new McDonalds on south Indiana. I meant to get by there to see her - Ty told me she asked about me - but I never made it by. Someone took her life. She was shot and killed this past spring.
The truth is, I don’t know what she believed. About God, Jesus, heaven or hell. I just know I was supposed to get her that witch costume. And that Chick Fil A. And that lemonade. I was supposed to give her those rides. I was supposed to love her.
FOUND. has grown to such a degree that I don’t get to experience as many of these intimate relationships with the kids we serve. But I hear about them often. They’re sacred. The campus contacts we work with are often social workers with “case loads” of 80 or more. Eighty kids with stories that would absolutely break your heart. They might not fit in, but they matter. To me, to FOUND, to the educators and volunteers who show up to serve them every day.
We call them WORTHY.
