Today I Thought About Lisa

Today I read another article about another child being killed by an another mother's abusive boyfriend, and I thought about Lisa.

I thought about my favorite memory: 10-year-old, bright, precocious, precious, pig-tailed Lisa laughing hysterically at her discovery of the Song of Solomon in the middle of a Sunday morning worship service.

I thought about my last memory: 14-year-old hard-edged, street-wise, crack whore Lisa loudly demanding money from one of her enablers and then fading into the night.

I thought about the beginning of losing Lisa, the Sunday evening she disappeared for several hours, only to return home, sobbing that she just couldn't take care of her four younger siblings anymore.

I thought about 12-year-old Lisa selling her body on the street to support her mother's drug habit.

I thought about a phone call to a DCFS friend, begging him to do what he could to take the children away from their drug-addled mother. I thought about his response: "Do they have a place to stay? Are they being fed and clothed? Then, sorry, but they're better off than a lot of my kids."

I thought about people who tried and systems that failed.

I thought about a funeral for 16-year-old Lisa, dead of a drug overdose in a crack house.

I thought about Lisa and my heart ached all day.