Trainwreck

Let me just say that I love my husband's oldest daughter. Very much. I do.

I want the best for her. I want her to have a good life, to live in a happy world where things go her way and she gets to do the things she wants.

But...she makes really bad decisions.

Yes, she's had some tough situations thrust upon her. When she got pregnant at seventeen and was sent away (by her mother) to a maternity home (yes, those places still exist) where she was pushed and prodded and urged and perhaps even coerced into giving her child up for adoption, I felt for her. I wished for a different path for her. I prayed for her to work through the pain, to work toward a good life, one she could be proud of, one she could tell her son about someday should he ever ask her why she gave him up.

But that hasn't happened.

In fact, I fear she's proving her mother's dire predictions correct. Her mother insisted that if she'd kept her child, they'd both be living in a homeless shelter somewhere.

Not that that's happened to my husband's oldest daughter. No, she bounces from fried's house to friend's house. She's done a few stints in jail, she's had a few bad boyfriends and made consistently bad choices.

I feel like I should be talking about a six year old rather than a twenty-four year old.

But sadly, she still makes the same decisions she'd have made when she was six. It's all about instant gratification. She wants what she wants when she wants it.

And it seems she wants things are are bad for her.

I feel so bad for Tom and even for his ex-wife. They don't want this life for their daughter. They want her to be happy, to be a contributing member of society.

She got out of jail last Monday, five days ago.

Last night, Tom got a call from a friend of hers. This friend had loaned her car to my stepdaughter and her 'boyfriend'. They'd said they'd be back in twenty minutes. When the friend called Tom it had been four hours.

My stepdaughter doesn't think about how her actions are going to affect other people. This is why she doesn't have real friends. She makes very, very bad decision.

So I pray. I pray that she'll grow up and realize what she's doing to those who love her. I pray that she'll wake up tomorrow and realize that she wants more out of life than what she's currently got.

But I don't hold my breath.

I hold my husband's hand instead as he worries about his daughter, as he wonders if she's okay and whether the next phone call is going to be the one that says she's back in jail or worse.

Ohh, how I dread the call that says it's worse. We pray that one never comes.