Thursday, June 6, 2013

Almost My Last Hope

I stumbled upon S's pink Bible today.  It was a bit of a heartbreak for me since I was holding onto the hope that she had brought this with her amongst the limited belongings that seem to be missing from her room.  But no.

Also, C got the chance to talk to her for more than two minutes last night.  He had rehearsed what he would say all day long, but then ended up using none of that.  Instead he poured out his heart to her and shared what an impact her departure has had on all of us.

Sadly, much of what he said seemed to fall on deaf ears.  She responded to none of it.  She insists she is happy where she is and life is moving forward for her from this point.

Long ago, S experienced this pain of having been abandoned by ones she loved.  Her adoption was born of such a tragedy.  And so with all her Attachment Issues and childhood pain, I think maybe the only way she could try to rectify the situation is to do to others exactly what had been done to her.

We are now victims of the tragedy that occurred in her early life.

As a mama, I often find myself wishing I could take away the pain our children carry with them.  I can't take back what has been done to them and I suffer because they suffer.  I want to take their burdens upon myself because that is what our Father in heaven has done for us.  As parents, there is no greater model for us than the one provided by God.

So, I guess, if this abandonment is the only way S is able to shed her suffering and feel justified in the damage done to her early in life, I will carry this burden for her.  I will offer it to the Lord and ask Him to carry it for me.  But for my daughter, I will do this.  I love her too much not to.

We are hurt in unimaginable ways by her actions and her choices, we are suffering because of what she has done.  But maybe this is the only way that all of us -- including her -- can truly begin to heal.

So I refuse to give up hope.  Bringing her Bible was not my last hope.

God is the Word, but nowhere in the Bible does it say that God is paper and ink bound together.  So truly, I don't believe that her faith is dependent on having a hard copy of the Word in hand.  God is so much bigger than that.  He can reach her in ways that we least expect.  And it's possible that He might get a different copy of the Bible into her hands if it is His will.

My last hope is in the Lord.  (He's my first hope, as well, but I don't often think about that because I'm so regularly entrenched in my humanness.)  And since God is unfailing and all-knowing and all-powerful, I am left with nothing to worry about.

There is still pain in knowing she is gone from our lives for the moment, but I know God is at work in her even now (and all of us).  He is where she is.  His presence with her is so much greater than any bound book -- even the Bible itself.

And like the prodigal son in the Bible, we are fattening the calf (so to speak) in preparation for her return to our lives.

That day will come.  I have faith.


  1. I know she will return, too. Maybe sooner than we think. I commend you on your strong faith. You are a great example for your children.

    I love you, Mom

  2. Thank you, Mom. I learned from you.