Hope and Charity need our faith in hard times

In these difficult economic times, I know the good people of Maine care deeply about those living with us who are unable to care for themselves. Surely people have been alarmed by the staggering cuts in federal money for MaineCare services, especially at a time when the need is growing and our ability to serve is diminishing. Our lawmakers have no choice but to ration care to the most vulnerable among us, such as Hope and Charity (real people whose identities are protected).

Hope is a woman in her early 50s whose trials have aged her without mercy. She has rarely known a loving touch. She grew up in terror and went out into the world. She never learned how to protect herself or love. Tragedy and trauma followed her wherever she went. She tried to console herself with alcohol and drugs, which only sank her deeper in a quicksand of misery. Many times she has tried to end her life to escape her pain. Many times she went to emergency rooms for overdoses and slashes to her wrists or neck. Many times she was hospitalized. She has a complex array of diagnoses and medicine. She is hanging onto life with faith in Jesus, her beloved cat, and a few tethers with her doctors, a therapist and her case manager.

Valiantly she covets her independence, but she does not feel safe anywhere. She is overwhelmed by the complexity of living. The cuts in services that are coming will leave her without the case manager, the only person to visit her in her apartment and the “orchestra conductor” for access to professional and community-based services. Her life suddenly will become much darker. There is no way she can get access to the supports she needs to live on her own.

Charity was born to a mother who was abusing drugs during her pregnancy. Charity’s father is unknown. The fragile infant’s nervous system was compromised. Highly sensitive, irritable, uncomfortable with touch, and inconsolable, Charity was so distressed she barely could sleep for months. Charity went from the hospital to a foster home, as her mother couldn’t take care of her. Charity’s life began in a most disturbing world.

As her young life unfolded, Charity displayed a contrast of challenges and gifts. The bond with her new mother was hard to build. Charity’s brain was flooded with stimulation, both overwhelming and confusing. Her emotions were for the most part loud, intense and long in running their course. She was slow to find even simple control of her movements. But she was bright, curious and attuned to speech, with a fighting spirit and determination to find her way to love.

When Charity was 8 months old, God sent her an angel, the mother who was ready to devote her own life and search out any and all help for Charity to grow and develop her special gifts. Charity is now 4 years old, a critical time to invest in her future or risk costly burdens for all. The first wave of budget cuts has withdrawn support for her doctors, therapists and teachers to work together with her mother and each other. Charity will be asked soon to accept a diminishing life as help for her and her mother is restricted.

Where is the sense and caring in all of this? What does it say about us as a people? It seems the cuts gloss over the difficult choices about whom we will help and how much. One size does not fit all. How much are we asking Hope and Charity to pay, compared with the rest of us? Whom are we kidding? Aren’t we going to pay much more in the end? Where is our hope? How much charity can we afford or live without?

Thomas J. Gaffney is a psychologist at Highland Sanctuary and Retreat in Stockton Springs.