Here, again.
When we came to this place, a little over eight years ago, I cried just as I am today. Unsure of what the future would hold, but sure God had called us here to complete our family, we walked in obedience and legally became a family of seven.
Mercifully, due to Covid, we were able to avoid in person hearings for the boys to get out-of-home treatment. Those virtual court hearings were less about us and more about the increased level of care and support needed to ensure the safety of those who live with my boys. Because it is no longer safe for us to live among the abuse and unpredictability, they needed help elsewhere.
Today’s hearing isn’t about us at all. We are simply here to remind our son we love him.
He has value.
The decisions he makes do not define him.
Yes, his choices have consequences we cannot rescue him from, but that changes nothing about his identity.
My son is defined by the God who created him, the God who delights in him. The same God who loves you.
Sure, my heart is breaking. But thankfully I am not alone in my heartache.
Yesterday, I was wrapped in love by dozens of friends, each in their own way. Some physically, others with text messages and phone calls. From teenage friend offering to come be with my kids, to my mom who is driving here to be with us at court, we have a village surrounding us in beautiful ways. This brings comfort to my motherly need to be known as one who loves my children enough. I do. I have imperfectly loved my kids to my best ability.
On the way to drop my daughter at camp this morning, she reminded me that I am loving her brother the best I can. This brought a deep salve to my wounded heart. Only she could defeat the lie within me that we had abandoned her siblings. She knows we are not saying goodbye to them, but walking alongside them in a different way.
Yet, the only one who brings me peace and comfort is the One who loves each of my children so much more than I ever could. The One who sees all of my brokenness, yet, still delights in me.
God’s choice to give us the freedom to love and reject others is what makes love valuable. The pricelessness of non-coercive love comes with the cost of possible hurt and the heartache I’m experiencing today.
Walking into the room in a couple minutes will display my lack of control and ability to protect my son. I can not defend him. There is no way for me to rescue him. Good thing I don’t need to, but he has a God who can.
Pray with us: For healing, connection, sadness (instead of anger), compassion, and wisdom as we pray
