How Much is a Good Mother Worth?

I cried yesterday while reading The Dallas Morning News.

I was reading an editorial called "Simple Acts, Senseless Deaths" about two recent random acts of violence in Dallas.  The first one killed a new immigrant from Baghdad when he and his wife rushed out to take photos of our recent snowfall.  Mr. al-Jumaili had "survived bombs and the terror of wars, only to be killed a few feet from his apartment" in northeast Dallas.

Tragic, senseless horror.

But the second random act of violence was the one that made me cry.

Irma Martinez was doing what so many good mothers do - she was sitting in her car, waiting to pick up her teenage son from a friend's house, when she was killed for her cellphone.  Ms. Martinez had "cleaned houses for 18 years but found time to be there for her son, who was involved in Dallas Police Explorer, a Boy Scout program for teens and young adults interested in police work".

Tragic, senseless horror.

Ms. Martinez's story just kills me because there are so many kids who don't have a mom like Irma Martinez.  Her life is over because some idiot wanted a phone.  This got me thinking...

How much is a good mother worth?

I'm not talking about the salary Ms. Martinez made cleaning houses -- that was probably not much money compared to the salary that you or I make -- but certainly the time she spent cleaning her employer's house(s) probably allowed her employers to be better employees and parents.

But if we could estimate the value of the time and energy she spent into taking care of her son -- pushing him to succeed in school, making sure he enjoyed relationships with peers, ensuring his safety by picking him up after school, etc. -- we could put a very high value on making a good boy into a good man.

At Community Partners of Dallas we see lots of bad parents, so when Dallas loses a good one, it's a true tragedy.  Ms. Martinez's life was worth more and she deserved so much better.

Every child deserves an Irma Martinez.

Oprah, Maya, and Mom

When someone shows you who they are – believe them.

I love this line.  Maya Angelou said it to Oprah and she passed it along to me (Yes, Oprah and Maya and I are friends, if only in my mind.).

Of course I think of this line often when someone does me wrong.  You know the times when once again your friend is late to a meeting and you think about how you can’t believe she is late.  Why can’t you believe it?  She is late every time!  Or what about the friend who tells you every November that she wishes that her husband would get her a piece of jewelry for Christmas, but she never tells him that because she wants him to figure out what she wants.  Why is she disappointed that she gets another sweater wrapped under the tree?

We have to realize that it is very difficult to get people to change.  We have to accept them for what they show us.  And, most importantly, we have to decide how we want to react to that person.  Since we know that they probably will not change certain behaviors, we must decide how to deal with them – or if we no longer want to deal with them at all.

Now, I wouldn’t be working for Community Partners of Dallas if I didn’t believe that people can change bad behavior – but they have to want to change.  Parents who once let drugs rule their lives can give them up (with a hell of a fight) and become good parents.  Relatives can turn their own lives upside down and change their own living situations in order to take children out of the foster care system. Change can happen with anyone if they want it enough.

But back to our line:  When someone shows you who they are – believe them.

My mom turns 76 this weekend and she shows me who she is every single day.  I’m not saying she’s perfect (none of us are), but she’s the closest thing I’ve ever met.  If you ever have the chance to get to know Cindrette, you’ll find out right away that she is smart as a whip, hilarious, curious about everything (especially about what people like to eat and how they got skinny), and honest.  She’ll give you advice about your colon, your hairstyle, and shout hooray for the Texas Rangers – all in one breath.

I wish every kid in Dallas County CPS care could have had a mother like mine.

She’ll show you who she is with every word.  And she is someone you can believe.

Here she is at lunch today.  76 and still going strong.  XXOO