Tuesday, March 18, 2014

A Prisoner

photo credit:  watchdog.org
 Return to your fortress, you prisoners of hope...
(Zechariah 9:12)


This past week has been hard.  Far too many reasons to count.

The lies have been stronger than the truth.  

Scripture has danced before vacant eyes and bounced off my hurting heart. 

My hands have been open and longing.  

My soul desperate and tired.

Prayers have been sighs and moans.

I could go on and on about frustrations.  

We've had a new social worker for almost each month we've had Little Bitty--  4 workers in 5 months.  

Confusion, chaos, dropped balls.   

We've gone to court 3 times-- arranging for my gracious mom to come from out of town to keep the kids.  

Each time we've returned home with no trial.  Court has been rescheduled 4 times. 

I hate family court.  

My fractured past colliding with the present.   

Awkwardly sitting on stained wooden benches.  

Being ushered into a suffocatingly tiny room to discuss our case at length with Little Bitty's attorney. 
  
I can hide behind designer clothes and leather boots, cute accessories and Revlon (yes, I buy cheap make-up).  

But it's hard to hide behind a face tattered and worn
 from years of hard living.   

Those are the faces that stare back at you in family court, as they await their name to be called.

Names rattled off succinctly like beats of a drum. 

I hate the reality of brokenness and sin.  

I hate how my heart is so haughty one minute and then mangled the next by the enormity of our case and the families involved.  

The gut-wrenching stories.  

Real lives hanging in the balance.

And, as the names are periodically called, my heart beats a painful rhythm of my own story.  My past.  Thumping against my chest are the lies that still haunt me.   

It's easier to pretend everything is fine.  

To look pretty and smile in my leather boots and designer dress.   

And so tonight I finally broke.  
My heart pulsing truth.  Tears washing away lies.

Remembering my Father's abundant blessings-- too many to count.  

One rich gift has echoed through the walls of my heart for the past 24 hours.   The words of a precious friend, who tenderly spoke truth and called me dear one.  I have soaked in those words all day.

An overwhelming kindness from a loving and merciful Father.  A balm to the soul and the words of Christ.

 Dear one, beloved

 And I remember the shame and lies I hear are not true of me.  That girl is gone, her heart beats afresh.

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.  (Ezekiel 36:26) 
  
Another blessing came tonight, as a sweet foster mama friend encouraged me with this post from Katie Davis:
  
And right there on the worn pages I read Zechariah call God’s people "prisoners of hope."  And I knew that I hadn’t been. Once more I had become more of a prisoner of overwhelming concern about the trauma of my children’s pasts and shifted my gaze away from what, Who I was really captive to... 

My flesh wants to shake the head no but I am a prisoner to God who says “Yes!” All of His promises – peace, joy, love, forgiveness, salvation! – they are Yes to me and Yes to her in Christ!  Eternity is Yes in Christ. And because of His Yes I can say Yes to all that He gives. Even all that He allows.

Hope is my captor – Hope for her healing here which has already begun and hope for our life eternal with Him. Hope that He who began a good work in us is not finished yet and will carry it to completion until the day that He comes and hope that He is coming.
 
Remembering once again who I am-- a prisoner of hope.  His beloved.

As He tenderly calls me (and you)...

Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, come with me.  See!  The winter is past; the rains are over and gone.  Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me. (Song of Songs 2:10-13)







2 comments:

Teresa Coelho said...

to walk the harden road alone and finally hear someone call out your name...Dear One. for a friend to understand the pain and frustration of enduring this hard life. God gives us those dear gifts, the small most meaning ones that break the barriers down between us and Him reminding us that we are His chosen and dear to HIs heart. thanks for sharing so transparently.

Melanie Singleton said...

Thank you for your words Teresa! We are indeed His Beloved. So grateful.