A different choice

Today’s prompt uses the example of law school, followed by a whole line of “What Ifs.” Before I got engaged during my second to last semester at BYU, law school was on my mind. I’m a huge fan of deliberately choosing and then “using my words.” And law school seemed like a natural avenue for all those English majors being told “Whatever will you do with that?”

But what I wanted most to do with that was be a mother, and so I abandoned any serious thoughts of law school, got married, graduated, and worked to help my husband get through a little more school before our firstborn arrived and I could fulfill my dream of being a SAHM.

I never looked back, really. Until this past year. A good friend of mind just completed her first year, two kids in tow. I know it’s been one of the hardest things she’s ever done. But she embraces the opportunity to grow and seems to love the challenges along with the constant stimulation of her intellect.

Still, no regrets.

Until that day when an executive order was issued and so many people–doctors, scientists, fathers, mothers, students, and children–found themselves at the mercy of mercenaries. I was horrified. And helpless to help. And when I saw and heard witness of so many attorneys–people who you know are working way too many hours in the week anyway–flock to airports to donate their time and efforts on these peoples’ behalf, I cried.

As I repeatedly watch mother after immigrant mother being separated from her children, I find myself wishing I were an expert in immigration law and could help.

Could I go to law school now? My math is definitely too rusty to put a dent in the LSAT. I lack the stamina my young friend has. I work full time to help my kids get a turn at getting their education. And my husband is looking to retire in a few years. Eventually–when we figure a way to cover health care until we’re eligible for Medicare, we want to serve a mission. Probably a number of missions. So law school wouldn’t make much sense.

I’ll have to find other ways to help.

But even so…

[Day 115 of Ann Dee Ellis’ 8-Minute Memoir.]

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