Guest Post by Tony Timbol

Why Single Mom’s are my heroes

Many authors write fiction because they want to entertain and not lecture when telling truths they believe in. The story below is fiction but based on some hard truths I and others have learned…

Walking up to the checkout lanes I could see I was in a race to get to the cashier ahead of my competition. The floor manager had just opened Lane 5. The smiling clerk said, “Over here! I’ll take you,” and waved me over even before she switched the lane light on. I picked up my pace. Holding on to the bulky paper towels saver pack and sweaty milk carton I looked again at my competitor and could see her closing fast. But I had a lead on her. I knew if I kept focused, I would win the day and get there first. Then I saw that she had stopped, dropped her Walmart reusable bag to the floor and started to kneel. I heard her say, “It’ll be fine sweetheart.”

I slid to a stop. The cashier waved again. But inside my head a voice said is that *Allyson? Turning I faced the woman and looking closer saw it was the single mom my wife and I had counseled four years ago. The tall, pretty blonde had bent down on one knee and soon had her arm around a sad faced girl child. I could not recall the little girl’s name. She was just a toddler then. I remembered Allyson, though, the woman whose lost smile eventually returned. Her story began to change my attitude about single moms.

Allyson’s divorce hit hard. The partnership she thought she had was one-sided. Her husband’s words of commitment spoken in passion and financial plenty faded as his gambling debts piled up. His addiction strained the relationship. 18 months of fruitless 12-step meetings became too much for her, his heart never seemed invested. Finally get help or get out was her demand, fair enough he said. Out he went with his truck leaving dark tread marks of a high speed exit from their lives.

During the first few counseling sessions, Allyson’s sunny view darkened and she worked hard work to see any light, let alone credit God for any of it. Church and religious people were the first, not to help, but to blame. The now available young mother, still thin and attractive, was soon isolated in the family values world of suburban religion. I was among those to cast the first stone, even as a trained counselor, whose was supposed to see brokenness and not simply behavior. She talked much about the poor cards God had dealt her until she began to recognize the game she had been playing and the men she had been drawing. It took time and many tears for her to find some peace. Eventually she accepted her history remarking in one session, “the past does not have to determine your future, but it sure pushes you hard in some directions.” I began to see my own past and judgmental eye. She vowed to break the pattern committing to a more spiritual course even though she was not sure what exactly that meant.

Her warm smile and kiss on her daughter’s cheek began melting the child’s frown. Picking up a few pieces of the wrapped mini-Kit Kat bars off the floor, the child’s bag had torn; Allyson placed them into the reusable bag. Glancing at the other pieces on the floor, she said, “Honey, it will be fine. The bag you had only took you this far, let’s put them into the sack and let’s get home. They’re not ruined, just a little dented.” The girl looked at her and smiled.

Standing up, Allyson saw me and beamed a grin. Taller than me, she approached and leaned over giving me a warm hug then looked around the store, “Is Serena here? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you and her.” I told her that she was home. She introduced to me Gabby, still smiling. We went through the checkout lane together. I offered to buy the small items she had.

“No, it’s okay, we doing fine. The first few jobs after the divorce sucked but I have a great job now with a good boss, two years last month. Even have a little savings, maybe for a house soon!” she said as she looked down and patted Gabby on shoulder. Exiting the store, I walked them to their car and caught up on news as much as we could before we said our goodbyes. Watching her and Gabby drive away, both smiling and waving, my spirit lifted.

Standing there waving, I nodded my head. Allyson was typical of the single mom’s we had counseled. Most had a lioness’s heart and a willingness to change. Despite wandering males strutting through their lives, they cared and protected their young and did what they had to do. Yes, Allyson and her sisters changed my attitude about single moms, now hero’s in my book.

Tony Timbol
Author, Cybil Raven Chronicles
www.cybilraven.com
www.tonytimbol.com

*Allyson is a composite of multiple single mothers and is a fictitious name so as to respect confidentiality.