Author Archives: Elea Lee

Unknown's avatar

About Elea Lee

Foster parent, adopting parent, family advocate, educator, homeschool parent

Dear Veronica Badamo,

Posted on by
Reply

In the fall of 1998 I lost you. Since I was your foster mom, I never had much legal right to you anyway.

What happened to your real mama. What happened to your whole family was awful. Criminal awful.

I was just a broken bystander.

You were, for one precious year, my baby. And when they took you away I was broken.

Barely survive broken.

Whole world changed broken.

I was pretty sure the people who took you would erase me, but I could not let you go without a benediction.

The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette published it. I knew that they would change your name so I called you Little One.

And for year I have been calling and calling, Little One.

I missed you. I missed the years, days, hours with you.

You were my lost treasure.

One good thing happened; losing you gave me a plumb line for love.

Anyone’s child could be you. Suddenly the world was full of Veronicas.

It was a painful gift. I would have rather had you, real you.

But I was the ghost. And I can give you these two promises–

I loved the world better because of you.

And I love you. Always, always, little one.

Forgiveness in pieces

Posted on by
Reply

The news article announced–a person guilty of mass murder in Rwanda had been forgiven after 20 years.

A cause for celebration?

Perhaps. If you don’t want the survivors to languish in the grips of anger and a desire for revenge–perhaps.

Beware of cheap forgiveness.

What do I mean? I mean that anyone genuinely harmed by another person has to forgive at a terrible price. The price of rape and murder is unthinkable.

It is too big a number. Too large a sum.

Which brings me to Jesus.

I understand that however we humans talk of releasing the debt of pain and loss caused by irrevocable harm, what we mean is let go of it.

We do not have the power to undo it. We do not have the power to expiate. We do not have the power to redeem.

Only Jesus can do that because he does and he did.

He has the power; he paid the debt.

Prophesy to the Breath

Posted on by
Reply

Well, to start with you should know: Ezekiel’s life was no walk in the park.

Stroll in the bone-strewn valley, perhaps.

He lost people he loved.

He was constrained by God to do wacky, uncomfortable, challenging, and humbling things.

And in return–visions. Beautiful visions.

And here is God, taking him out to the dead husks of a human wasteland to challenge his faith.

Do you believe God can raise the dead?

Do you?

Sometimes people can still have a pulse and seem so dead. The idea that a murderer or child molester could be resurrected to a compassionate life?

Almost feels harder than Ezekiel’s bones.

But God makes the injunction:

Ezekiel 37:9-10 (NIV)
Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to it, `This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these slain, that they may live.’ ” [10] So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army.

I confess, I believe God can make these dry bones live.

I believe Ezekiel can prophesy to the breath.

Lord, help my unbelief.

In You, dear Ransomer.

Shame on Harvard

Posted on by
Reply

Reading the Oo sexual assault p & r page has a grim, surreal quality after reading about the reality of this rape survivor.

Really? Y’all planning to take back the night? Not sure you know how. So here is a crash course:

Don’t marginalize the victim.

Don’t pretend the victim is mentally unbalanced.

Don’t deny the story.

Don’t shelter the perp.

Don’t even shelter the alleged perp.

And hey, people, it is your job to both report alleged criminal activity to law enforcement and provide support for the victim of an alleged crime.

It is not your job to suppress allegations of felony rape just because you are afraid it might muck up your brand.

Because, newsflash peeps: brand tarnished.

Did you learn nothing from Penn State?

Nothing at all?

Mark Twain on Social Evil

Posted on by
Reply

Mark Twain said that when he was growing up in a slave state (Missouri) he was never confronted with a single dissenting viewpoint.

Pastors preached the (biblically erroneous) notion that Africans were cursed by God and therefore ought to be slaves.

No one saw any abuse of the slaves.

The slaves kept quiet about their opinion one way or the other.

In the Missouri of Twain’s youth slavery was a de facto good not evil.

A situation he addresses well in Huckleberry Finn.

But it was not true. Slavery was and is an abomination, an aggression against other humans.

What aggressions against humans do you take for granted or even passionately support?

Abortion?

Child sexual abuse?

Human trafficking?

Abortion is legal in the US and many people are passionately supportive of it. But it is a greater evil than slavery.

And while child abuse and human trafficking are illegal, if our government does not enforce their extinction, they will and do flourish in the gap.

Adoption Stories

Posted on by
2

You should know that no matter how old you are, I see you as the little girl you once were.

I say this because you tell me you can’t ask Yahweh because you don’t believe in Him.

Because you don’t believe in Him is exactly why you should ask Him. What do you have to lose?

Don’t worry, I know you do have stuff to lose. So let me phrase the argument as a parable:

In 1998 I lost a daughter. In my mind I lost 3. She was a triplet. She was taken from me because I was a foster parent in a place where the laws of custody and adoption were not held in high regard.

Her mother wanted the babies back. If she could not have them herself, she was willing to allow us to adopt them. Brave mama, tough story.

They took the babies. Broke my heart. Drove me to desperate measures.

The last desperate measure was leaving a record.

If you go to the archives of the federal court of western Pennsylvania you will find my record–a quixotic lawsuit I filed so that if I could not get her back, at least she could find me.

If she ever looked.

If she wanted the true story.

Because I was pretty sure she would not find it without a little help from the public record.

And since she was just a baby when they took her, I knew that they could erase me pretty easily.

But I am real and I love her. I was her mother for awhile. And I have never stopped loving her and her family.

God is like that. He is always our first mother, our foster mother, who can then be erased by another story.

But never forget. The story of His love for you is in the public record. It is your job to find it.

I have known for years that my daughter had a choice to look for me or choose to look away.

But I can assure you that I am real.

And I have loved her since the day I met her.

“I Can’t Read This!”

Posted on by
Reply

The man bore an uncanny resemblance to Michael Jackson. His speech was staccato and robotic. Clearly scripted.

He wanted me to believe that I should buy magazines from him because

1. He had a rough life
2. He had an eleven year old daughter
3. He was from New York City
4. He was doing God’s work
5. By selling magazines he was helping teens see the world
6. I live in a nice house in a nice place, he would like to live there.

I listened when I wanted to send him on his way. This was not my first magazine appeal. Sometimes it has been children’s books for the needy.

If you don’t need what they are peddling they press you to donate.

One pair of salesmen promised to come back and wash my windows shortly after they (they–two strapping college dudes) said hopefully I wouldn’t kidnap them.

One (my hero) took a donation from me to hand out copies of poetry books.

And he did. He handed them out when he could have just dumped them.

But this fella yesterday did not take my book. I gave him snacks, someone else’s poetry book, some rocking ties and a copy of Just.

He asked what it was about and when I told him he returned it to me. Said it was too sad and he couldn’t bear to read it.

I told him I understood.

What does it cost?

Posted on by
Reply

I struggle with a voice in my head telling me that a woman in my ramshackle physical condition has no business hitting ramps on a wakeboard.

It is a powerful voice.

And yet I cannot help thinking that challenging that voice and hitting those structures is a victory of the heart.

Victories of the heart are often costly victories. We are challenged to face our deepest fears of loss and humiliation, pain and failure for love.

And so with the even objectivity of a math problem you could say–the measure of our love is the measure of our willingness to overcome our fear.

Or better said by a Braver Man–perfect love casts out all fear.

Tell me you love someone and I will ask you, what dragons have you fought to preserve your beloved?