Month: October 2018

 

Dear sir,

I want to tell you how much I enjoyed the story you shared of a loving mother who sacrificed to attend addiction recovery classes with her child three times a week.

I would also like to share with you–and this is done in the spirit of education not indignation–that though your story was moving and beautiful, it was told with some misconceptions.

You shared that this mother sacrificed so much for her child even though it wasn’t her biological child but her adopted child.

You spoke these words as if this fact made the story even more awe-inspiring.

“She did this for her adopted child.”  You said with wonder.

I understand–based on this misconception–that you probably haven’t experienced the joys that come from being in a family blessed by adoption.

I understand that you probably don’t know, how could you know, that when a mother has to fight to claim the babies God has reserved for her–whether that fight comes through the complications of pregnancy and delivery or if it comes through months or often years of feeling like she can’t fully breathe, relying on the Lord for oxygen, until the court date is set and the final papers are signed–that fight, that willingness to sacrifice all for that child never ends.

I can tell you that my mother fought for my adopted sister and that her mother’s heart beats the same for her as it does for me. Every wonder, worry, joy and celebration she has felt for me she has felt identically for her. I’ve witnessed it and I as a sister have felt it.

As a sister I cannot differentiate the feelings I have for one sibling from those I have for another. I would sacrifice for one as I would sacrifice for all. We are united, designated by God to be a forever family.

I would ask you to please continue to tell your story of the brave mother. She is an example to us all and she deserves recognition. Just understand–and again I say this with the highest respect–that her sacrifice does not hold greater value because it was done for her adopted rather than biological child because for her they are one and the same.

“I’m talking about your pants,” the man said with a touch of irritation. “They look good on you. They show off your hips and legs.”

“I’m complimenting you! Can’t a guy give a girl a compliment anymore? You should be flattered.”

~~”Wild” by Cheryl Strayed

“Mom was stalked at the swap meet today.”  My daughter Marlee said at the dinner table. “I thought she was going to get kidnapped.”

I’ve always tried to live a Christ centered life.  But the last few months I’ve put more of a concentrated effort into accomplishing this goal.

An unexpected perk of putting Christ first–really first–is that the underlying fear that has plagued me most of my life has softened.  The shell of distrust I’ve hidden beneath has cracked wide open.

“It mattereth not what becomes of me.”  I told the Lord in prayer.  “I just want to love all of thy children and go about doing good.”

I felt better, bolder and braver with a greater capacity to love my neighbor as myself, than ever before.  I felt whole.

That is, until Saturday.

I tried to brush off the sense of uneasiness and violation I felt after leaving the swap meet.  Tried to tell myself it wasn’t that bad.  Maybe the man that had followed me around with an overbearing disregard for personal boundaries and unwelcome advances was just trying to be friendly.  Perhaps he thought it complimentary. Perhaps he believed I would be flattered.

But–validated by Marlee’s observation at dinner–the stone I had worked all day to dislodge from the pit of my stomach returned.  And when night fell I lay awake in my bed.

I felt my desires to be out in the world, interacting with and loving God’s children, dissolve in a flood of memories.  Memories of other moments in my life when I felt stalked, pursued, ogled, trapped and violated.

“I can’t do it Lord.”  I said.  “I can’t trust enough to love enough.”

I was then reminded of a dream–a dream I wrote of in an earlier post— where I, encased in a bubble, was held in the palm of God’s hand.

“Fear thou not.” He spoke gently to me in my dream. “For I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.”

Remembering this truth I see that though there have been many times–way too many–when I’ve felt stalked, pursued, ogled, trapped and violated, each time God has blessed me with the intuition or the intervention needed to be kept safe.

Or, with the ability to overcome.

I still have to fight to keep my heart softened and to withstand the temptation to feel angry or afraid.  Because I do get angry.  I sometimes feel afraid.

And no, I am not flattered.

But it’s a fight I’ll continue to make.

Because I want to go about doing good, traveling the world and showing love to all of God’s children. He has placed that seed into my heart.  A seed I never dared dream before.

And I intend to make it happen.

But I don’t intend to give up treasure hunting–even though I swore off it on Saturday–because I’m still obsessed with all things vintage and it’s fun to run into nostalgic goodies like this exact duplicate of my Senior prom dress. Which I guess is now somewhat vintage too.