She is pregnant.
out of wedlock.
that is the big crisis.
in a culture of shame, for this to be known is social suicide.
she will become a social paraiah.
we might as well slap a scarlet red "A" on her shirt and parade her around town.
I feel like i'm living in the 50's - trying to find a way to solve the problem, hide the shame, manage the situation.
i am angry at a culture that paints someone i care about into a corner.
hide it.
abort.
or shame. life long shame.
these are the clear options.
she is simultaneously braver than i can imagine, and trapped.
So we start beating down doors, tracking down leads, calling in favors, connecting with friends - and miraculously all the pieces fall into place.
miracle.
i mean it.
a miracle.
i'm not exagerating.
miracle.
it dropped in our lap - and i poured my heart/hope/hours and energy into making that miracle happen.
she said she'd go.
out of town.
adoption.
she trusted our solution.
she said yes.
she was excited about the possibilities before her.
excited that good could come out of this shame, out of this dark situation.
as i sit next to her on the airplane i think of how brave she is.
i think of how she's the type of brave we all hope we'd be if we ever were put to the test...but deep down we all desperately hope our bravery will never be tested like that.
we want to be brave. and simultaneously we hope we will never need to be brave.
the place it beautiful.
it is beyond my wildest expectations.
every. single. detail. taken care of.
and then all of a sudden it comes undone.
it's too much.
she's too far from home.
she can't handle the change.
she is broken and scared and acts out.
and the doors close.
and the walls start to close in on her and on us.
on the miracle.
we fight for her.
we love.
we speak truth
we speak harshly.
we communicate clearly that we believe in her and we are with her.
we tell her that this is all we can do.
we encourage her to try - just try.
one week. give us one week.
please.
one week. try it.
you can do it.
i believe in you.
i believe you can do it.
we will come back for you in a week if it's as bad as you think it will be.
Beth and i huddle under a stairwell, and we manage to pray. we plead. we confess our weakness - that this is too big for us (and has been all along). we declare that we're in way over our heads, and that we need God to do something. we ask for wisdom (cause it's been promised if we ask for it). and somehow manage to declare that God will still be good, and present and with us no matter how this turns out.
no.
no way.
she will not stay.
the anti-miracle.
we wait.
we plead.
we make phone calls.
we watch it implode.
we watch her shut down.
refusal.
utter refusal.
she is a brick wall.
and then, with a lead heart, we buy a plane ticket for her. and try to sleep.
Beth turned to me and said, "do you ever feel like there is something bigger than us fighting against us?"
"yes. i do."
i fell asleep (and woke up to) a mental soundtrack of:
"maybe if I..."
"what if I..."
"I should have..."
"why did you do it that way?"
"did i set her up for failure?"
"Did i push too hard?"
"Should i have pushed harder?"
"Why didn't i see this coming?"
"I should have planned for this."
"Why am i surprised by this?"
"i should have planned better."
"We should have explained better."
"What if i would have responded this way instead of that?"
"Were my expectations too high?"
"why didn't i think of ____________ or___________ sooner?"
"maybe _________________ would have made a difference."
...playing and re-playing all the things i could have done differently. trying to sort it out. where did it go wrong? why? the decisions that should have been different. what if i'd planned differently. what if i responded differently? what if ...what if...what if...
these are lies. i know it.
cognitively i know that i did what i could.
i know this is out of my hands and out of my control.
i know we are creatures with free will.
and that helps - but it is still hard.
we fly her back home.
back home to questions and doubts, to judgement and shame.
I fly home full of fear.
i don't see this ending well.
she had chosen a hard road.
and i cannot stop her.
i could not stop her.
i could not convince her to take a different path.
"I love you. I am sad. and i am disappointed, but i love you"
"This decision does not change how much i love you."
"your life has so much value."
it is a horrible feeling to acknowledge that you have done all you could....and it is not enough.
i know this isn't about me.
i know this isn't my fault.
i know that i didn't fail.
with my head i know these things.
this knowledge doesn't stop the tears from falling in the moments when i allow my heart to soften enough to feel this.
...and none of this changes that the Lord is somehow present in this, and that He is good.
out of wedlock.
that is the big crisis.
in a culture of shame, for this to be known is social suicide.
she will become a social paraiah.
we might as well slap a scarlet red "A" on her shirt and parade her around town.
I feel like i'm living in the 50's - trying to find a way to solve the problem, hide the shame, manage the situation.
i am angry at a culture that paints someone i care about into a corner.
hide it.
abort.
or shame. life long shame.
these are the clear options.
she is simultaneously braver than i can imagine, and trapped.
So we start beating down doors, tracking down leads, calling in favors, connecting with friends - and miraculously all the pieces fall into place.
miracle.
i mean it.
a miracle.
i'm not exagerating.
miracle.
it dropped in our lap - and i poured my heart/hope/hours and energy into making that miracle happen.
she said she'd go.
out of town.
adoption.
she trusted our solution.
she said yes.
she was excited about the possibilities before her.
excited that good could come out of this shame, out of this dark situation.
as i sit next to her on the airplane i think of how brave she is.
i think of how she's the type of brave we all hope we'd be if we ever were put to the test...but deep down we all desperately hope our bravery will never be tested like that.
we want to be brave. and simultaneously we hope we will never need to be brave.
the place it beautiful.
it is beyond my wildest expectations.
every. single. detail. taken care of.
and then all of a sudden it comes undone.
it's too much.
she's too far from home.
she can't handle the change.
she is broken and scared and acts out.
and the doors close.
and the walls start to close in on her and on us.
on the miracle.
we fight for her.
we love.
we speak truth
we speak harshly.
we communicate clearly that we believe in her and we are with her.
we tell her that this is all we can do.
we encourage her to try - just try.
one week. give us one week.
please.
one week. try it.
you can do it.
i believe in you.
i believe you can do it.
we will come back for you in a week if it's as bad as you think it will be.
Beth and i huddle under a stairwell, and we manage to pray. we plead. we confess our weakness - that this is too big for us (and has been all along). we declare that we're in way over our heads, and that we need God to do something. we ask for wisdom (cause it's been promised if we ask for it). and somehow manage to declare that God will still be good, and present and with us no matter how this turns out.
no.
no way.
she will not stay.
the anti-miracle.
we wait.
we plead.
we make phone calls.
we watch it implode.
we watch her shut down.
refusal.
utter refusal.
she is a brick wall.
and then, with a lead heart, we buy a plane ticket for her. and try to sleep.
Beth turned to me and said, "do you ever feel like there is something bigger than us fighting against us?"
"yes. i do."
i fell asleep (and woke up to) a mental soundtrack of:
"maybe if I..."
"what if I..."
"I should have..."
"why did you do it that way?"
"did i set her up for failure?"
"Did i push too hard?"
"Should i have pushed harder?"
"Why didn't i see this coming?"
"I should have planned for this."
"Why am i surprised by this?"
"i should have planned better."
"We should have explained better."
"What if i would have responded this way instead of that?"
"Were my expectations too high?"
"why didn't i think of ____________ or___________ sooner?"
"maybe _________________ would have made a difference."
...playing and re-playing all the things i could have done differently. trying to sort it out. where did it go wrong? why? the decisions that should have been different. what if i'd planned differently. what if i responded differently? what if ...what if...what if...
these are lies. i know it.
cognitively i know that i did what i could.
i know this is out of my hands and out of my control.
i know we are creatures with free will.
and that helps - but it is still hard.
we fly her back home.
back home to questions and doubts, to judgement and shame.
I fly home full of fear.
i don't see this ending well.
she had chosen a hard road.
and i cannot stop her.
i could not stop her.
i could not convince her to take a different path.
"I love you. I am sad. and i am disappointed, but i love you"
"This decision does not change how much i love you."
"your life has so much value."
it is a horrible feeling to acknowledge that you have done all you could....and it is not enough.
i know this isn't about me.
i know this isn't my fault.
i know that i didn't fail.
with my head i know these things.
this knowledge doesn't stop the tears from falling in the moments when i allow my heart to soften enough to feel this.
...and none of this changes that the Lord is somehow present in this, and that He is good.
3 comments:
mel. i don't even have words.
praying right now.
I am crying reading this aloud to Chip. Thank you for putting your whole heart into serving the women around you even when it hurts so much.
Love ya Mel. Many prayers.
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