Privately

Joy Ryan, President/CEO

“Joy, I have to talk to you privately.”

She’s fifteen years old with a round face, deep, deep brown eyes, and a plaited ponytail down her back that she has to be careful not to sit on. Her eyes were intense, and she kept looking over her shoulder in the dining area. It appeared she didn’t want to be overheard and was nervous about who saw her talking to me.

“Can I come to your office?”

I always say “yes” when a child at Dakota Boys and Girls Ranch wants to talk to me. They are the reason we exist. If a child feels I should know something, then I should know it.

“Absolutely. I am going into a morning of meetings, but will have a break at noon. If it is okay with staff, and works with your school schedule, let’s talk then. If that doesn’t work, we can talk after school. Is it ok to wait till then? Are you ok?”

She nodded in the affirmative, gave me a shy, “Thank you,” and went back to her breakfast.

Although I was in meetings all morning, I couldn’t help but wonder what I was going to hear at noon. These kids have endured so much. This child has experienced a lifetime of sexual abuse. Why was it important to talk to me? Sometimes they tell me something they have trouble telling their therapist or nurse…I think it’s my “grandma vibe.” Sometimes kids tell me about ideas they have for running the Ranch better, or suggest changes in food, or, my favorite, which staff I should fire because they “make them do homework.” I kept thinking about her looking over her shoulder.

At noon, I went back into the dining area to find her. She was at a table with a couple of other girls.

“Is this a good time for you to talk?” I asked.

“Sure, but we can just do it here. She’s still in class.”

Puzzled, I sat down while she dug in her pocket for a many-times-folded and unfolded piece of paper. As she laid it out, I could see it was a homemade greeting card saying, “Good luck.”

“Mary is discharging tomorrow, and I am having everyone sign this card for her because she’s my friend and I will miss her, and I think she would like to see you signed it, too.”

I took the paper and wrote Mary a note of belief and hope and prayer.

Then, I turned to that perfect, round-faced, kind, shy, thoughtful, healing child and said, “Thank you. You are very kind, and that is the most important thing I will do today. I am so glad you included me.”

She smiled shyly, folded the paper, put it back in her pocket, and went back to her chicken strips.

Please keep the precious children and the staff of Dakota Boys and Girls Ranch in your prayers.