TG works with lawyers and judges and such, and with only one exception that I know of, the folks I've met through her are uniformly wonderful and delightful. (Note that this doesn't change my view that we're badly over-lawyering our society...)
Then today, she shared something with me that just made me stop. And tear up like I was making onion casserole.
Retired Marine Charles W. McCoy Jr. was the presiding judge of the Los Angeles Superior Courts for the last two years (the Hon. Lee Edmon, who ...possibly jokingly... threatened me if I ever hurt TG's feelings and then stood with us and married us is his replacement) is the adoptive father to children he met and adopted through the foster care system.
He wrote them a poem, which TG just shared with me...
Gather round my children for a story that is true.I'd be remiss not to mention that Littlest Guy's mom and stepdad have adopted two delightful (and energetic!) children through the foster system, and that my brother is hoping to do the same thing this year.
A story about Santa Claus and the gift he gave to you.
You said that last year Santa didn't come your way,
That there was nothing 'neath the tree for you on Christmas Day.
When last year Santa saw you in that foster home, he knew what you were feeling -- so sad and all alone.
You wrote down what you wanted, made your list of toys, and oh how Santa wished that he could give you back your joy.
Santa's toys are made with love, each a work of art.
But Santa knows that none of them can mend a broken heart.
So Santa doesn't always bring just what you ask him to, he searches deep within your heart to find his gift for you.
He watches when you're dreaming, hears you when you pray.
And that's how Santa chooses what to bring on Christmas Day.
Back and forth Santa paced, then sat down in his chair.
Scratched his head, thought and thought and fiddled with his hair.
Soon he closed his big blue eyes, his cheeks all flushed and red.
In a flash, he fell asleep, as if he were in bed.
And as he slept more deeply, he began to snore.
Till the roaring of his snoring shook the workshop floor.
Suddenly he woke up with a twinkle in his eye.
"I'll give those kids a present money cannot buy."
He grabbed his coat, rushed outside and disappeared from view.
All night long he searched and searched to find his gift for you.
He'd watched you in your dreaming, heard you as you prayed, and that's how he decided what to bring on Christmas Day.
All at once he found it and stuffed it in his sack.
It was a gift that you could hug, and it would hug you back.
A present you could play with, and it would play with you.
A gift that you could love and love, and it would love you too.
A present you had asked for, but only in your dreams.
Exactly what you wanted more than any thing.
You thought that he forgot you, that Santa passed you by.
But that's because you didn't see the twinkle in his eye.
Santa gave you something that you had never had.
He gave you what you wanted most.
A loving Mom and Dad.
There's a special room somewhere for these people...
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