Finding Direction: The Wind Vane Chronicles

What I noticed first about her was her demeanor.  How frightened and – well, in a fog she seemed to be.

As I walked into the small conference room, two pleasingly plump ageless black ladies sitting side by side to my right at the long table looked up at me expectantly.  She sat nearer to me on my left taking no heed at all.

She was younger, dressed in black and, most notably, desperately clutching a big black purse lying in front of her on the table.

All three were there seeking my help as an attorney to get her – the clutched purse lady – a divorce and child support.  The first woman to my right was Kaysha’s (not her real name) Momma and the next her Auntie.  They were sisters who apparently traveled as twins, although they weren’t.

Kaysha was, though, but her twin sister died at birth, so she had been raised as an only child.  

The mama and auntie did all of the talking, and there was a lot of it, but Kaysha rarely even looked up, much less saying anything, even when I prodded her.  I found out all of the particulars, though, a variation on a story I’d heard many times over in divorce actions.  They all ran to a common theme.

 She was 37 years old, had three nearly grown children, a husband who was emotionally abusive to the max who had left them and taken up with a younger woman by whom he had two more children.  She got nothing from him except grief.

She was without hope, except for her Momma.

Her mama, it seems, was a gambler who actually won.  She was either a gambling genius or extremely lucky, I thought, as she pulled out of her own large purse a slew of 1099s showing gambling winnings, lotto winnings and bingo winnings.  She strictly played numbers, she said, and didn’t have a clue about horses.  Just had an instinct for numbers.  Winning numbers.

Momma had paid for Kaysha’s little house, a car for her and the oldest grandson, and for Kaysha to go to cosmetology school to learn to become a hairdresser.  It was to no avail, though, because Kaysha had been diagnosed with debilitating depression and was only able to work for one week before having to give it up.

She was currently on disability, going to the mental health clinic once a week and devouring dozens of pills a day.  They filled her purse, spilling out on the table when I asked what she was taking.  She was barely functional and constantly being worn down by the missing, but not completely gone, husband.

He had a good paying job there in New Orleans with good benefits.  His wages could be garnished, if necessary, to provide child support for her three kids if he balked.  She could get a divorce, too.  I’d see to both, I told her. 

We ended our session with me setting out all I was going to do in what order and what I would need from them.  I also told them they could call me whenever they had any questions or needed anything.  

The very last thing I did that morning was probably the important thing I may have done during my legal career, but more as a woman and as a Christian, than as an attorney.  I turned to Kaysha and asked her to look up at me.

I looked her directly in her eyes and said, "When I was your age – 37 – I had three nearly grown children and a very abusive husband.  I had no education, couldn’t get out of my marriage because of health problems, and was deeply depressed.  I was just like you."

I told her that since then I had gone to college and gotten a degree, graduating with straight A’s, gotten a divorce, finished raising my kids, found true love, married again and gone to law school.  If I can do that, I told her, you have hope and a future in your life.

It took several months for me to accomplish getting her the divorce (which didn’t take long), negotiating child support with her husband’s attorney and the court and seeing her on her way.  I received many phone calls from her at first, less later, and saw her once in a while.  It was an amazing sight to watch how much she changed for the better each time I saw her.  She started doing her hair, polishing her nails, dressing in bright flowerdy dresses and wearing high heels.

She got a new beau, was working and not taking pills any more.  Everyone in the office noticed the changes when she would come in.  I was so happy for her and glad for whatever part I had in it.

Her mama called me toward the end to thank me for helping her.  Then, she confirmed what I hoped was true.  She told me that every time Kaysha had called me through all of those months being uncertain or afraid or down, she was always lifted up and in better spirits after I talked with her.  She said I’d made a huge difference in Kaysha’s life for the better.

You know, I used to stupidly (I think now) think – for years, actually – that as a Christian, we had to be great "models" of goodness and strength to everyone around us.  But, what I found to be true, instead, is that it is in our own weaknesses and failures, our hard times, that we best can relate to anyone.   We must be transparent and let God shine through.

 You’ve been wanting some of my legal career stories, this has been the one for today.  I’ve got plenty more – some hilarious, some sad, all sorts – so I’ll share some of those with you, too, this year.  Okay?!

For today – find someone you can be transparent with.  Open.  Honest.  Sticking your neck out to relate.  God will give the increase.

Cheers & Blessings to you all today!  Dee