First of all, let me restate for the record:
I am an egregious sinner and a (to quote my adopted daughter)–“failed parent.”
So yeah. Don’t be me:)
Second, a story…
When I first became a parent it was to a 12 year old boy who had been through hell.
He flipped out fast, threw rocks at our neighbors’ cars, and his caseworker told us our only option was to call the police.
Our next two charges we kept, despite the fact that they screamed at the top of their lungs 2-3 hours a day.
We lived in a cute little neighborhood. Imagine our neighbors’ chagrin when the howling started and their tremendous relief when we finally moved.
Imagine being young, reasonably cute and surrounded by a maelstrom of LOUD everywhere you went.
I still can’t believe we did it.
But we did.
Because we believed
Still believe, actually.
Before I wrote this I asked my oldest biological child how how life would have been different for this child and the family if I had followed advice we have encountered over and over about hiding our adopted son’s predations.
The answer was a chilling thing–
If I had, if we had, hidden the crimes against our children and supported their predator, we would have unleashed darkness on our children.
In other words–we had to tell the truth, be the failures in the eyes of family, church, and community to succeed in the one thing that matters–showing our children they are precious.
In fact I would say this to all of them the same–you are precious.
And if you are a threat to yourselves or others I will be the first person to call the police.
Because, my dear, we all deserve the law–it’s gravity and protection.
Beneath a grim and unavoidable Cross.