Tuesday, July 29, 2014

A Demolition of Hope




After a highly emotional and profound play-therapy session today, I began to think about anger.

If you are human, there's a strong likelihood you experience anger regularly.

Anger is not always a wrong or sinful response to life.

I will protect Little Bitty's heart and story, but I will share the fact that walls are disintegrating slowly, brick by brick.

Sometimes it is with the smashing force of a sledge-hammer of angry words.

Other times it is through a raging force of body language.

Today I sat in the tiny room.  Cross-legged, bare footed.  My eyes observing the battle within.

My heart felt like a punching bag.

Beaten, bruised.

Tears pooled in my eyes.

There is much anger, confusion.

It is heartbreaking to witness.

The effects of brokenness on one so small.

We came home to a snack of peanut butter and apples.

A social worker visit for re-licensing us as foster parents.

Paperwork.

My brain hasn't been allowed the chance to process our morning session.

So here I am.

Staring at a blinking cursor.

Attempting to gauge my heart response in relation to truth.

I know our only hope is Him.

Her youthfulness gives us a tremendous advantage.

Support and counseling from Lifeline, consistent love, His transforming power.

All these things a reality and great blessings from the Father. 

Yet, I still hurt and grieve.  It would be wrong to say I don't feel or ache at the unfairness of it all.  I can often become raging angry about the deep injustices children suffer because of the choices of adults.

Our anger is really the same-- hers and mine -- anger at injustice.

The result of a mama and daddy's choices.

Sadness over the situation intermingles with deep gratitude that we were chosen to parent this dear little one.

As I placed her in her bed for her nap she said,

Mommy I need you.

I stepped up tall.  Bending over the side-rail of her bunk bed.

I placed my hand on her cheek.

She pretended to braid my hair.

Her brown fingers twisting round and round.

My hair becoming tightly coiled.

I said,

It's hard to trust Mommies sometimes.

It's okay to be angry.

It's okay to be confused.

Her eyes fixated on my hair.  Twisting, twisting.

Her bitty head nodded as she nestled down into her pillow.

Our noses touched in the semi-dark room.

The fan whirred its soothing rhythm-- a constant in the middle of a life of unknowns.

I love you sweet girl.  Let's have cookies when you wake up.

Another nod.

And now she sleeps.

I rejoice at the mortar coming loose.

The shifting that's occurring as a demolition is taking place.

The hope of healing and re-building.

His hand always, always at the helm.







  
{photo credit:  swampplot.com}


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