You Gave Me This Child

Father God,

You chose that I should be Jenn’s mother, and I don’t know why. I feel so unequipped for her needs. I don’t know how to be patient, consistent and loving to this little chameleon of drama. I need your help and your wisdom to know what to say and do to help her become a happy, healthy, functional adult. I’m not doing it well enough on my own.

Lord, sometimes I see things going wrong with my Little One and it feels like things are going to keep going more wrong until she spirals out of control, out of reach, out of normal life. I have so many fears for her. I’m frightened when I work in the homeless shelter and see the people who have hit rock bottom, and think that this could be her. I’m frightened that the world will hammer out her beautiful uniqueness and turn her into a conformist drone. I get scared that her uniqueness will prevent her from connecting well to other people. I get so afraid, Lord, and then I get angry at her, and scold when I should love or seek to understand the heart behind her hurtful words.

Lord, remember that bad time in my life, and that crappy car I had with the broken radio? Remember how we had that tape of preschool worship songs that got stuck in the cassette player for about three weeks before I could pry it out? I’m thinking about one of those songs now, God, and it’s giving me peace. Thank you.

“This is my Father’s world
And let me never forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong
God is the ruler yet.

This is my Father’s world,
the battle is not won
Jesus who died shall be satisfied,
and Earth and Heaven be one.”

–”This is my Father’s World”

Keeping it real

My heart is so heavy tonight.

Mothering a depressed teen is the hardest thing I’ve had to do yet. Because Little One’s story is not mine to tell, all I can say is that I pray for her all the time. I worry about her inability to find a place where she fits in this world. I am frightened she will just give up trying.

I am frightened for my older daughter, too. A painful childhood and dysfunctional dad have hardened her. She has a protective shell of anger around her, and relationships and even close friendships are so hard for her. I’m afraid that she will never let anyone but me ever love her. And she even keeps her distance from me, too.

There have been many times when I’ve looked for God’s hand in my life, and many times I’ve seen it. When I’m in the middle of troubles, and there’s no way to know what will happen next, it is so hard to believe that even now, in these dark nights, He can make something beautiful from these ashes. And yet, up till now, the ashes have never been the scars of my daughters. That hurts the most. These are my babies who are hurting.

When they were younger, someone was always reminding me that as a single mom, God never gives me more than I can handle. So I would talk it over with God and reiterate that, in case he somehow had misjudged my strength, I just wanted to remind him that I could not survive losing one of my children. I still don’t have that strength. I don’t know how to do more than I’m doing now. I don’t know how to make things better, and though I know that’s not really my job, I still can’t help the overwhelming desire to heal, help, fix.

My friends give me encouraging scripture verses, and remind me that I’ve trained up my girls in the way they should go, and when they get older they will return to it. But I also know of people who have slipped away and fell further and further into depression, pain, bad choices, and death. My husband often works with people in failing marriages, those who have horrible addictions and phobias, and people who have noplace but a church floor to lay down on at night. Just a few months ago he ministered a man my age who nonetheless committed suicide just a few days after crying and praying with Joe in the sanctuary.

No matter what I do, and how glorious is God’s plan, much depends on the free will of my children. I don’t know how to be OK with that.

My friend Peg told me the other day that when she was having dark times with her daughter, another friend talked about picturing her praying over her son. This friend, when she was lost and helpless, would imagine taking her son’s hand, pulling him to the cross, and leaving him there with God, the perfect father.

My sister Sheryl has been one of the greatest spiritual influences of my life. After she had gone through an enormously difficult time, I asked her how she coped. Her reply was amazing. She told me what she wished she would have done to cope. “I wished I would have praised God more. I wished I would have listened to more Christian music and spent more time in prayer. I needed those things in my life.”

There has to be something to praise God about today.

I will praise him for the plan he’s put into place, the plan that someday I’ll be able to see and rejoice in. I’ll be thankful for the ways that he is going to rescue my family, when I’ve gone way beyond the abilities of my own strength.

And I’ll share with you the praise song I’m listening to right now. Thanks for sticking with me through a long post and a lot of pain, friends.

Praise You in This Storm
Casting Crowns
words by Mark Hall/music by Mark Hall and Bernie Herms

I was sure by now, God, You would have reached down
and wiped our tears away,
stepped in and saved the day.
But once again, I say amen
and it’s still raining
as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain,
“I’m with you”
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away.

Chorus:
And I’ll praise you in this storm
and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am
and every tear I’ve cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
and though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I remember when I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to You
and raised me up again
my strength is almost gone how can I carry on
if I can’t find You
and as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away

Chorus

I lift my eyes onto the hills
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth
I lift my eyes onto the hills
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth

Chorus

Tell Me How Your Day Was

Dear God,

Please pour out your protection on my Little One. I know that out of all the moms in the world you chose me to be the mother of the Child Who Has Made Swear Words Come Out of My Mouth, but if she wakes me up at 5 a.m. one more morning telling me that she has a stomachache and can’t go to school, I may just have to take her out of this world.

And if you choose not to lull her to sleep during the morning stomachache time, could you please send us a diagnosis for this elusive stomach problem?

Lord, I know that you don’t give us any more than we can handle, but sometimes I feel like you might have overestimated my patience when you gave me a child who argues with every single thing that I say. You know her. You’ve seen.

I know you see my feelings, God, and know how badly I want to wrap my arms around her and snuggle her and smell her good Little One hair smell. You know how much I want to hear all about what those mean girls said in US History so I can go beat them up and their moms, too. You know that I want to hear her thoughts about social issues after seeing the play “The Crucible” in Acting class today. I want to hear how she views the world based on the ideas that Arthur Miller has introduced to her today. But God, you and I both know that anything I ask is going to be shot down in flames with a vicious, “I don’t feel like talking right now.” And then she’ll go in her room and call someone on her phone.

And you know I’ll be clenching my fists impotently, screaming internally, “Why won’t you just let me love you?! Why can’t I be part of your life?”

Lord, is that how you feel about me?

Love,

Me