I listened patiently before asking a quiet question. “Brianna have you found work yet because responsibility begins with your own effort.”
“Yes I have a part time job now,” she answered between tears.
“Please forgive me Mom because I was wrong.”
I closed my eyes and remembered the little girl who once hid behind my legs when thunderstorms frightened her. “I forgive you,” I said gently, “but respect is something people must learn through their actions.”
I did not invite her to live with me and I did not send money because those choices would erase the lesson she needed to understand. Instead I asked a friend named Harold Kent who worked in real estate to help her locate a modest affordable apartment where she could begin again.
