So here we are at the brink. But before I can talk myself into taking the plunge, I have to reflect a little bit... you know, make sure that everything is in order and all before I let go of the reins, so to speak.
When I first saw this little bundle of love, she was 6 years old. She was a cutie, but a bit spoiled. She was my niece, and I absolutely loved the idea of being an "aunt" to someone. Visions of trips to the ice cream store filled my head. But life got in the way, and when that was combined by the hour's distance that we lived from each other, it's easy to understand that we never really connected as much as I wanted to. Of course there was the occasional visit, but nothing solid enough to let a sturdy relationship develop.
When I next had an opportunity to actually spend some time getting to know her, she had already turned 12. Time, it seemed, had gotten away from me. She was no longer a bundle of joy and wonder and energy; a sadness and a certain fear had darkened her countenance now. I wondered at it. I wanted to ask, but I was afraid. I was afraid that she would not want to open up to me; but I was also afraid of what I would hear if she did. I was afraid of what I would have to do with the information I was given.
One night, I went to her house, and for the first time, I got a sampling of the secret life which this precious one had been living. I was afraid for her and for her brother and sister. I feared for their safety. Completely on the impulse of the moment, I took them home with me that night. Even though we were attempting to fit 7 of us into a vehicle that only had 5 seatbelts, I knew it had to be safer than leaving them where they were. I was told over and over before we left how bad they were, that I wouldn't be able to handle them, and that I would surely be bringing them back at the first opportunity. But I knew better. Unbeknownst to me, that night completely changed the course of my future as well as theirs.
They were with me a total of two weeks. I finally got the courage to ask her, and she opened up to me, and all my fears were realized. I did what I could; I knew it wouldn't be sufficient to effect any lasting change, but at the time, it was all I could do. I felt so helpless, but then I heard from God. He told me that He was giving me the children. I knew it, and was at peace with it. It would be less than four months before He would begin to carry out His plan. From the time those changes began to take place, it would be a very long, very agonizing 22 months before those changes would be made permanent. But time marched on, and finally, she was mine. But instead of having a new bundle of joy and excitement, I received a bundle of wounds and fear and mistrust. She was so beautiful, but so hurt.
At times I felt overwhelmed with the task laid before me. How are you to love someone when they aren't loving you back? It sounds like such a flippant answer to say to someone in that situation, "Well, of course, you know that love is a choice, not a feeling." Let me tell you, Friend: the reality of living that out is so much harder than anyone who has never had to do it can imagine. God had to change a lot of things in me in order to make anything that I said or did effective. It seems like the things I learned first were all the things I shouldn't do. How we made it through the first year with all of our mental faculties intact, I know not, but we did.
And now, only two short years after she was finally given to me, here I am, having to let her go. I wonder if anything that I've done has been worthwhile. I seem only to remember everything I've done that was destructive, rather than instructive. I can't remember any big "Aha!" moments, when I realized that everything I had tried imparting to her finally took root in her mind. But then I remind myself that God did not give me an impossible task. To my way of thinking, taking someone from a lifetime of abuse and attempting to undo the damage done, as well as giving them a crash course in God, Jesus, the Bible, salvation, trust, freedom, joy, service, education, healthy communication, making wise choices, avoiding temptation, driving, shopping, budgeting, and generally managing their own lives, all within two years is a pretty impossible task. But that's not really the task that God gave me. The only task He gave me was to love her, and to lead her to Him. That I have accomplished. All the other things are secondary.
My main task has been accomplished. By that reckoning, she is ready. She's ready for me to let go of her hand so that she can grab hold of Jesus' Hands with both of hers. Does it hurt? A little, yes. Is it hard? Very much so. But I trust that Jesus can do a much better job with her than I ever could, and I believe that she has learned how to listen to Him. So my heart is at peace, and I am now ready to take the plunge into the unknown . . . into having a grown daughter.
When I first saw this little bundle of love, she was 6 years old. She was a cutie, but a bit spoiled. She was my niece, and I absolutely loved the idea of being an "aunt" to someone. Visions of trips to the ice cream store filled my head. But life got in the way, and when that was combined by the hour's distance that we lived from each other, it's easy to understand that we never really connected as much as I wanted to. Of course there was the occasional visit, but nothing solid enough to let a sturdy relationship develop.
When I next had an opportunity to actually spend some time getting to know her, she had already turned 12. Time, it seemed, had gotten away from me. She was no longer a bundle of joy and wonder and energy; a sadness and a certain fear had darkened her countenance now. I wondered at it. I wanted to ask, but I was afraid. I was afraid that she would not want to open up to me; but I was also afraid of what I would hear if she did. I was afraid of what I would have to do with the information I was given.
One night, I went to her house, and for the first time, I got a sampling of the secret life which this precious one had been living. I was afraid for her and for her brother and sister. I feared for their safety. Completely on the impulse of the moment, I took them home with me that night. Even though we were attempting to fit 7 of us into a vehicle that only had 5 seatbelts, I knew it had to be safer than leaving them where they were. I was told over and over before we left how bad they were, that I wouldn't be able to handle them, and that I would surely be bringing them back at the first opportunity. But I knew better. Unbeknownst to me, that night completely changed the course of my future as well as theirs.
They were with me a total of two weeks. I finally got the courage to ask her, and she opened up to me, and all my fears were realized. I did what I could; I knew it wouldn't be sufficient to effect any lasting change, but at the time, it was all I could do. I felt so helpless, but then I heard from God. He told me that He was giving me the children. I knew it, and was at peace with it. It would be less than four months before He would begin to carry out His plan. From the time those changes began to take place, it would be a very long, very agonizing 22 months before those changes would be made permanent. But time marched on, and finally, she was mine. But instead of having a new bundle of joy and excitement, I received a bundle of wounds and fear and mistrust. She was so beautiful, but so hurt.
At times I felt overwhelmed with the task laid before me. How are you to love someone when they aren't loving you back? It sounds like such a flippant answer to say to someone in that situation, "Well, of course, you know that love is a choice, not a feeling." Let me tell you, Friend: the reality of living that out is so much harder than anyone who has never had to do it can imagine. God had to change a lot of things in me in order to make anything that I said or did effective. It seems like the things I learned first were all the things I shouldn't do. How we made it through the first year with all of our mental faculties intact, I know not, but we did.
And now, only two short years after she was finally given to me, here I am, having to let her go. I wonder if anything that I've done has been worthwhile. I seem only to remember everything I've done that was destructive, rather than instructive. I can't remember any big "Aha!" moments, when I realized that everything I had tried imparting to her finally took root in her mind. But then I remind myself that God did not give me an impossible task. To my way of thinking, taking someone from a lifetime of abuse and attempting to undo the damage done, as well as giving them a crash course in God, Jesus, the Bible, salvation, trust, freedom, joy, service, education, healthy communication, making wise choices, avoiding temptation, driving, shopping, budgeting, and generally managing their own lives, all within two years is a pretty impossible task. But that's not really the task that God gave me. The only task He gave me was to love her, and to lead her to Him. That I have accomplished. All the other things are secondary.
My main task has been accomplished. By that reckoning, she is ready. She's ready for me to let go of her hand so that she can grab hold of Jesus' Hands with both of hers. Does it hurt? A little, yes. Is it hard? Very much so. But I trust that Jesus can do a much better job with her than I ever could, and I believe that she has learned how to listen to Him. So my heart is at peace, and I am now ready to take the plunge into the unknown . . . into having a grown daughter.
