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The Visitor: Monica's Diary, Friday June 30 free porn video
The Visitor
Monica's Diary
Friday, June 30
It was during the mid-morning of our summer reviewing when we heard the
car on Old Muddy. We all froze in place listening as it got nearer and
nearer.
"Wow," Mark said. "Traffic two days in a row; it's getting crowded out
here." He was referring to the fact that yesterday we had heard two cars
in the middle of the afternoon. Those two had stopped at some point, and
the entire faculty and student body of Henson Prep School, as we call
ourselves, gathered on the front porch to see what we could see. It
wasn't long at all before both vehicles departed taking with them our
excitement for the day.
This car didn't stop, but neither did it drive past us. As the noise
continued to increase, we did as yesterday and gathered on the porch. In
no time a frumpy little vehicle with some kind of government-looking
seal on each side door trundled up to our house.
The driver did not match the car. No sooner had the engine been shut off
than out bounced a freckle-faced, red-headed woman dressed for a hike in
the heat. She strode toward us with a clipboard in one hand, a satchel
thing slung over her shoulder, and an empty hand extended toward me.
"Rachel Berry, Family and Protective Services, and you all must be the
Henson's.
"Why yes," I said. "I'm Monica and these are our children." We shook
hands. Rachel took a step back and looked at us intently.
"Hmmm, Dr. Norfleet said you were Amish."
"What?" I was surprised.
"Gotcha," She said and laughed. The children laughed with her. "You know
you guys are hard to find. I tried coming out yesterday, but Google got
me so turned around I had no idea where I was. It didn't help that you
all have zero cell phone service out here. I had to go back toward
Amarillo, contact the sheriff's office, and get a unit to help me locate
your place. When we finally did find you, it was too late to pay a
visit. I really don't think this is the edge of the world, but I'll bet
you guys can see the edge from here." We all laughed again.
"Seriously, Dr. Norfleet wants you to understand that the State of Texas
is very thankful that you and yours have stepped forward to take such a
bold stand on behalf of the transgendered. It may not seem like it now,
but you and your husband are on the right side of history and will be
remembered as true civil rights heroes."
She was a fast talker, this one, and very enthusiastic. "Oh, well, I
guess you've heard then how Skyla sort of stumbled and fell into our
lives. We couldn't very well just slam the door on the poor child." I
then invited her in out of the sun, and we all decamped to the living
room sofa where Hannah quickly brought her a glass of iced tea, and the
rest of the children gathered around on the floor.
"As you may or may not know, Skyla will be released from the hospital
and into your custody in a few days. I have brought along at list of her
referrals and a schedule of her sessions, so that you can start planning
your calendar." She paused to take a sip of tea.
"I guess I don't know anything, really," I said. "I've not heard a word
about referrals or sessions."
Rachel dug into her satchel and pulled out some papers. "I've got two
therapists for Skyla to see. The one on South Austin in Amarillo is the
best trained in dealing with the transgendered, but the other one, on
Southwest 10th, runs the Living-It-Out support group for LGBT youth.
Skyla will need to see Ms. Wortman, as soon as possible and as
frequently as she deems necessary. She will build the case for a
psychiatric consultation. The psychiatrist gives the OK for a physician
referral. The physician will oversee the hormone therapy. At some point
the counselors, psychiatrists, and physicians will recommend gender
confirmation surgery."
"It sounds like a lengthy process," I said. I was thinking that maybe
there was time for God to work in Timothy's life.
"It really is," Rachel answered, "and that's where you and the rest of
your family come in. Transgender children, and especially adolescents,
tend to become quite impatient, agitated, even suicidal over having to
wait so long for the fulfillment of their dreams. They see every day
that passes as one more of imprisonment in a body that daily turns more
and more into the opposite of their vision of who they truly are. Your
job is to instill patience in this quest by confirming their self-image
in word and deed."
"Counselors, psychiatrists, doctors; all that sounds terribly expensive
as well," I said.
"Excellent point," Rachel replied. "Once you receive your foster parent
certification--and I understand that's going to be fast-tracked--most all
of these professional fees will be covered by the insurance that will
come with the foster child. There will be other out-of-pocket expenses,
however, and that's where your stipend comes in. Not only will you need
to buy more food, but more gas to transport the foster child to doctor
and dental appointments, therapy sessions, not to mention support group
meetings. And clothes and makeup and jewelry; for heaven's sake you're
having a teenage girl move in with you, and that means a lot of
shopping!" She said this last sentence in a gush of laughter.
"I'm curious about these support group meetings," I said. I really was,
but I was as interested in deflecting the conversation from the topic of
spending vast sums of money for clothes and such on Timothy, when my own
girls had--thus far at least--been content with simple dress and hard
work.
"Oh yes, an absolute necessity." Rachel seemed to say everything with a
smile. "Most of the LGBT children we get in the foster care system have
been so beaten down by parents, teachers, and peers that their self-
image is almost non-existent. We have found that when they are allowed
to mix with others like themselves it does wonders for their self-
esteem."
"How so?"
"Well, in Skyla's case, she'll be meeting with kids age 14 to 19 going
through the same experience that she is."
"I told you we'd find more Skylas if we kept going to the creek," Josiah
said to Mark as he punched him in the arm. Rachel laughed.
"Yes, you're likely to find Skylas most anywhere."
"But," I said. "Just how many . . . people like Skyla can there be in
the Texas Panhandle?"
"Oh, the possibilities are endless." She flashed another smile. "Gender
is so fluid and there is such a continuum, that at any given time, the
number could be just astronomical."
"And they're all just like Skyla?"
"Well, no, not per se," Rachel said slowly. Her eyes did a quick survey
of the children on the floor before her. "But the L and the G and the B
have so much in common with the T that they are able to mutually
encourage and support one another. The interactions of the support group
in a social setting enables them to realize that they aren't freaks or
sinners but like everyone else uniquely beautiful and worthy of love and
respect."
"Social setting?" I asked.
"Yes, they are kind of like informal parties, very low key. They always
start with a short presentation on some topic of interest to the LGBT
community followed by a general discussion about how everyone is getting
on in their lives. Ms. Macafee moderates it of course and keeps
everything on track. Then it's punch and cookies for about an hour."
"How often?" I asked.
"Oh Ms. Macafee holds them every Wednesday night at 8:30, but unlike the
counseling sessions, these are free."
"Well that's a mercy anyway."
Rachel nodded with another smile and began looking around the living
room. "I understand there are seven of you altogether."
"Yes."
"Does each child have their own room?"
"No, the house isn't large enough for that. The girls have one room and
the boys another."
"May I see the girls' room please."
I glanced at Hannah. "Is it presentable?"
"It will be in a minute," she answered, and all three jumped up and
hustled off in that direction. I then turned a quizzical eye to the
boys, who with much rolling of eyes and exhaling of breath slowly got to
their feet and dragged themselves off to their room.
"Sorry," I said. "We weren't expecting company."
"Well," again with a smile, "all our visits are like this. They have to
be unannounced for the protection of the foster child. We must be
assured that they are being well taken care of at all times. But I must
say," she said looking from the living room to the kitchen area, "for
having seven people living here--and five of them children--this place is
immaculate."
"They do most of it themselves," I replied.
"Really? You mean like chores?" Her smile was mixed with surprise.
"Yes. We are very well scheduled here. As you can imagine, we have to
be."
"I guess. What time do you have to get them up in the morning to get
them all ready for school?"
"We homeschool."
"What?" The smile was gone, replaced by a look of shock. "None of them
go to school anywhere?"
"No. They all go to school right here. In fact, we were in the middle of
our morning summer session when you arrived."
"Are you certified?"
"Yes, I am."
"By whom?"
"Well, the State of Texas for one and ACSI for another."
"So, you have a degree?"
"Yes, in elementary education."
"From where?"
"Baylor."
"Have you taught professionally?"
"Three years."
"Where?"
"Hubbard Heights Elementary in Fort Worth."
"May I see your certificate?"
"Sure." I got it out of the file cabinet by the roll top desk in the
living room. "You'll notice I have a 'reading specialist' endorsement on
both the state issue and the ACSI issue." She studied first the one then
the other.
"May I?" She asked, producing her smart phone.
"Certainly." I watched her photograph both.
"What is this ACSI?"
"Association of Christian Schools International," I replied. "We use
their curricula and rely upon them as a backup for our record keeping."
"What kind of records do you keep?"
"Test scores, grades, field trips--the usual."
"You take them on field trips?"
"Yes. We're part of the Panhandle Christian Home Educators Association.
It's like a co-op of home schools. We get together from time to time for
athletics, for special holiday programs, and field trips."
"You don't fear that the lack of peer socialization will damage their
adjustment to life in the real world?"
"We fear bullying, violence, drugs, and disease more," I said.
"But what about Skyla's socialization?"
"I have visited with Skyla, Skyla's mom, and Skyla's dad at length. From
what I understand this child has been bullied and beaten from pillar to
post in public schools, a private institution, and most recently in the
Potter County Detention Center. I should think a little privacy and
protection are in order. Don't you?"
"I'm worried that Skyla will feel imprisoned out here in the middle of
nowhere and won't have the opportunity to blossom in the beautiful young
woman that she knows she is inside."
"I know the public schools have rules against bullying and violence, but
they have rules against drugs and guns too, and we all know how well
that's working out. I'm afraid that if we put a dress on Skyla and drop
her into the middle of a public school, it will be like chumming for
shark. I mean Skyla was placed in the women's section of the detention
center and ended up in the hospital. What is likely to happen if Skyla
is thrown into the testosterone cauldron of teenage boys that we call
high school?"
Rachel shook her head in agreement. "I see your point. Perhaps a little
safe solitude would be in order, especially now on the beginning of a
very dangerous journey."
"Yes," I said.
"On the other hand," she said, picking up my credentials again, "your
certificates are for elementary age children only, and Skyla will be a
sophomore in high school this year."
"True enough, but my conversations with Skyla have convinced me that
academically I am still her superior."
"What?" Rachel looked confused again.
"I made reference to Napoleon once, and Skyla had absolutely no idea who
he was."
Rachel grinned. "Good golly, Miss Molly, that had to be over ten years
ago. If the movie didn't come out in their lifetime, as far as teenagers
are concerned, it doesn't exist."
"What movie?" Now I was confused.
"Napoleon Dynamite."
"I was talking about Napoleon Bonaparte."
Rachel's brows furrowed. "What was he in?"
"France."
"A foreign film?"
"No. He overthrew the French Republic, became emperor, conquered Europe,
sold Louisiana Territory to the United States, invaded Russia,
Bonaparte's Retreat, Battle of Waterloo. That Napoleon!"
"Ah, World War II, gotcha."
In the providence of God, my three daughters returned at that moment
with news that their room was ready for inspection.
"So, a set of bunk beds and one single." Rachel took several photographs
from various angles and proceeded to label each on her smart phone. "One
table, one chair, and one chest of drawers..."
"There's a mirror behind the door," suggested Elizabeth.
"And we have a good size closet." Hannah gestured to the folding doors.
"And," said Sarah, pointing to the bookcase between the beds that Nathan
had cobbled together for the girls' little stash of books.
"But no TV or computer?"
"No," I said. "We can't afford it."
"Do the boys have one?"
"None of us do," I replied. "We are all limited to books and
handwriting."
"See that's the problem I'm having with your homeschooling Skyla. The
setup you have might work on the elementary level, especially stuck out
here the way you are, but high school is the doorway to a much bigger
world."
"Yes, I see what you are saying, but, well take Hannah. She finished
eighth grade this year and is going into ninth this fall. I can show you
her standardized test scores. She's in the 90th percentile."
"Really?"
"Yes, they all are, that or better. You can photograph that too if you'd
like."
"Yes, yes I would, later, but the question I have right now is, is there
room in here for Skyla?"
Ever been rear-ended, or worse yet t-boned at an intersection where you
thought you had the right of way? I do not know why I had not
anticipated this. She had specifically asked to see the girls' room, but
I had assumed she wanted to see all the children's rooms. And the fact
of the matter is that in all our thinking and planning and praying about
Timothy, our focus had been entirely on how this would impact our
church. The idea of him sleeping in the same room with our girls never
once crossed our minds.
It had apparently never crossed the minds of my daughters either. Sarah
instantly covered her mouth with both hands. Elizabeth's mouth dropped
open, and her large eyes got even larger. Hannah actually let out a
chuckle before turning to closely examine something in the closet.
Don't get me wrong, I was not having some kind of out-of-body
experience, but I was well aware of the fact that I was standing
perfectly still, mouth open, hands at my side, looking totally blank
before an increasingly impatient interlocutor. After Hannah's hastily
suppressed chuckle, there was no sound in the room. Inside my head,
however, my mother's mind was screaming What's the matter with you,
woman? Are you crazy? Are you insane? Are you stark-raving looney? I
instantly slammed the door on that mind and opened the door to my
spiritual, Christian mind--AND HEARD EXACTLY THE SAME THING!
When she saw that I was incapable of answering, Rachel took the
initiative. "Please don't tell me you were seriously thinking of having
a high school girl share a room with two little boys."
"But," I began clutching at straws, "Skyla's not yet actually, . . .
physically, . . ."
"That doesn't matter," Rachel said firmly. "Skyla has made a legal
declaration that she is transgender. By law she must be treated
accordingly. Failure to do so is punishable by law. That means a fine
and or imprisonment."
"Okay, okay I understand," I said. "Just let me see if I have this
exactly clear. By law Skyla, who is physically male, must be permitted
to sleep in my daughters' bedroom, but it is illegal for Skyla, who is
still physically male, to sleep in my sons' bedroom."
"Yes," said Rachel, smiling again. "That's exactly it, unless, of
course, you choose to give her a bedroom of her own, which would be
befitting a girl of her age."
"We can give Skyla a private bedroom?" It was a good thing I was
standing still in my own home. If I had been walking anywhere, this
would have staggered if not floored me.
"Yes, certainly; that's always an option."
"Okay, in that case, I'm sure we can work something out," I said. What
it was I wasn't sure, but there had to be something we could do, even if
it meant camping the boys outside in a tent all summer.
"Wonderful," Rachel said in her cheeriest tone yet. "Well, I have to
dash. I have two more stops to make before I get back to my office." She
stuck out her hand again. "I think we each understand our positions and
our roles in helping Skyla on her journey. This was a good first
meeting, and we've made a lot of progress."
"You wouldn't like to stay for lunch?"
"Oh, and I bet it's just the healthiest food in the world, but no I
really don't have time."
"Okay," I said, and off she went.
When her car disappeared from sight, somebody standing on the front
porch with me said, "Mama?"
"I don't know," I answered automatically. "I really don't know."
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