A couple months ago I sat in a courthouse waiting for a
particular someone to show up for a hearing.
Because of how the last few days had panned out I had little confidence
that she would come. People were praying that she would be there and keep
fighting for her freedom from addiction and her chance at a new life. At
the last minute she walked in. We were shoulder to shoulder for an hour
having an intense conversation about the "truth." The truth is really
hard sometimes. It makes you want to run away. Hiding and lying
seems like a better option. An addictive substance seems like a better
friend because it makes you feel better, if only for a little while. But
here is the real truth…it lies. When you come down from the high you are
lower than before. It will eventually ruin you and the people you love. In her case, this addiction is standing over
her with its foot on her throat. If she
doesn’t fight for her life, she may lose it.
As we talked about the reality of the situation I finally saw a
brokenness and vulnerability that I had not seen before. I saw honesty
and desperation. When your mistakes are going to be confronted in a
courtroom and you are in physical pain, you can't fake having your stuff
together anymore.
During the course of that hour she said over and over...
"I keep looking at those stairs and I just want to run
away."
"I just wish this was easy."
I encouraged her to stay and do the next right thing. I told
her it was brave to come and that she would be so glad she did once it was
over. I told her that sometimes victory is doing the thing that we don't
want to do and hating it in the moment. It will feel like victory
later. We all need that advice from time to time, don't we? I do.
Finally, it was our turn. We got up and started walking
toward the door. She turned around and looked at me with fear in her
eyes. I gave her one last “you can do
this” before we went in. She sat with her head held low. People
shared what facts they had, the good and the bad. They talked about their
concern for her and the fear that she isn't going to get help fast
enough. To her surprise and mine the judge looked at her with what I
discerned to be compassion. His
countenance toward her was firm, but gentle. There was grace in his voice.
It was remarkable. We set the date for our next hearing and it was over
just like that. I walked out with her and she just wept.
Me: Aren't you so glad that you went in there?
Her: YES. It really just makes me feel like a bigger piece
of $%*# though.
Me: THAT WAS GRACE. You would have missed it if you wouldn’t have
gone in there today.
We talked for another 20 minutes and we hugged goodbye.
It was a good day.
The weeks since have continued to be a roller coaster. There is no
predicting anything. I knew when we said goodbye that the next day could
be a different story. Addiction is such a demon.
About a month later another addict sought me out to talk one night
at church. She was feeling really
low. We had a long intense conversation
about where she was in her journey. There
was a good amount of honesty and desperation to be “better.” However, when we got to the part where we
talked about surrender to God and next steps in the process the brakes came
on.
“I know I need to surrender to God but it’s just so hard…”
“I could do that,
but…but...but…”
"I just wish this was easy."
There it was again. That
statement. I realize I have a lot to
learn and odd as it seems, I am learning a lot from addicts right now. Everything that
is true of human nature is just incredibly exaggerated in them. My
conversations with them can be summed up like this: It is a mixture of knowing you’re a mess,
knowing you need help, wanting help, and yet not wanting help all at the same time.
It's lies and half-truths mixed in with crazy honest confessions in vulnerable moments.
It's being up one day and down the next. It's not keeping your word and
then surprising people with follow through in the last hour.
Most of all, what I have learned from them (and some other women
who have recently found themselves in a very difficult place because of choices
they’ve made) is this:
To receive grace we have to come into the
Light. What is hidden and kept in the
dark robs us of forgiveness, freedom, and being able to embrace the unfailing
love of God.
But I won’t lie, I wish this
was easy too. I
wish a lot of things. I wish I knew how to navigate these relationships without getting hurt. I
wish I always knew the right thing to do. I wish I always loved them
well. I wish so many things hadn't happened in the lives of these women
that set them up for failure. I wish that knowing foster care was going to
be hard would make it not feel as hard sometimes. I wish I could love a baby like my own and
also fiercely desire for her to go home to her mama without a war inside of my
heart.
IT IS HARD.
Can I say something else? (Please know that I feel a little raw right now so this comes from my fragile state. Thanks for understanding. :)) If
and when she goes home or it starts heading in that direction I beg you not to say, “Well, you did sign up for this.” I know guys.
Jeff and I both know. It’s just
that we already deeply love a little girl who doesn’t belong to us. It’s what we are supposed to do. The difficult thing here is that grief and
loss show no mercy to the ones who know it may knock on their door. Please let us be sad if we say goodbye to her
down the road. I love her mama, but I
love her even more. Jeff has an instinct
to protect her. So, when her safety
seems threatened by (even my vain imaginations of) a family member popping up
to take her we will suddenly feel a lot of things. Please give us pep talks but please give us
space to feel too. I trust God with all
of this, but I will still have to walk through all of the stages of grief
should she leave us. Please remember this
if you have any friends in the trenches of foster care. They
aren’t stronger than most, they’re just willing.
I have felt weak over the last few days. I haven’t felt like doing some things. I haven’t wanted to go the extra mile. After asking for prayer about this a friend reminded me of the advice I
gave to "someone" a couple months ago. Do
the next right thing. I had to lay my
current feelings aside and obey. I did the thing that I knew God wanted me to do. His strength enabled me. He got me through a hard day, and although I was glad when it was
over, it was good for me to have to lean
on Him. My feelings eventually came along after obedience led the way. He even gave me tremendous grace
by hearing the words “thank you" from the one who I was struggling to love. She had no idea how God would use that in my heart.
Oh how I need Him. This is never less true than it is now, I am just keenly aware at the moment. His grace IS sufficient. I know that more than I know anything.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power
is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about
my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.
2 Corinthians 12:9
