forgive me for that day in September when I wrapped you in a Mao-green papoose
Indescribable light
I understand we are only metaphors
Allegories
Parables
For feral mother love
Howl at the moon
Stalk the night forest
Accost the brothers Grimm
With the spindle-pierced grief
Through sinew and heart
I held on as long as I could
Then looked for you on each horizon
She-wolf helpless
Caught in the trap
Of human law
you think Vikings
Drawn swords and treasure chests
In the strong man’s house
Who ties and binds matters
The scars on His wrists forever
I am the plunder
So grateful to be found
Restored eternal
From the house of the strong man
Strewn with bones and promises
Redeemed by this warrior
King
Words betray only the barest threads of love
“A mother for a child”
You must know I always
Wanted to keep the possessive
Pronoun “mine”
In our relationship
They took that from us
Let me see how
These tiny seeds of faith
Could move mountains
Losing sight of light to find it
Time makes
Trees from seeds/
Holes in the arms of love
I look for your face in every crowd
And the pictures you post to the world
Of a baby I once held
So dear, beautiful girl
So always, always dear
love don’t say
Whatevs, Girl
Love plays for keeps
Wraps itself around the words and places where you been
Leaves the have out on purpose
Because when you were young, you…
But when you are old you will..
Know this loss
Feel what it is
To not be found
Without you, Girl
A story of a 14 or 15 year old brother deliberately, repeatedly, invasively preying sexually on his very young and helpless little sisters is a nauseating, nightmarish scenario, not a frickin’ altar call.
Yet the Duggars claim it led them all closer to God.
Perhaps the god of celebrity, self-deception, and pride, but categorically not Jesus.
I know this because I too was once horrified to find that my teenage son (adopted from foster care) had preyed on his younger siblings and their friends.
Devastating.
I wept and I sought God.
My husband reported him to CPS.
I took my babies to forensic interviews, their doctor, and a licensed therapist.
And we fought to have him incarcerated for his monstrous crimes.
I sought out every parent whose minor children had been exposed to Charles. I treated his behavior as a public health hazard.
Because it is.
I asked Jesus–how do I get through this?
His answer was calm and incisive–the Truth will set you free.
It has. No one tells you how excruciating that kind of truth and freedom can be.
I look at the Duggars’ response to their son’s crimes and marvel at the damage they have caused to their children and their own souls.
Mrs. Duggar profoundly abused the content and intention of a portion of Matthew 18 in her interview on Fox. Tragic, offensive, and ironic….because Matthew 18:6 is the verse she should be quoting–
Matthew 18:6 NIV
[6] “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.
For years, and categorically for the first nine months, I awoke each morning and lay in my bed wracked with dread.
Because the children were so punishing.
Trips to parks, grocery stores, the pool, church were all fraught with the certainty of sturm and drang. Sometimes interchangeably.
I remember waiting in Philadelphia for my husband to return after a medical conference. We had to check out of the hotel so for several hours I walked in downtown Philadelphia with the children.
One would begin to wail and would do so for blocks, eventually losing interest. Then the other would commence. Their verbal displeasure was noted by all who passed us.
Normal people.
I found a square and planted us there. The wailing planted itself with us.
The only pictures I have of them as babies–before foster care, before I met them–survived a fire.
All that remains of before.
It was a beautiful fall day in western Pennsylvania when the caseworker called and asked if I could go down to Allegheny General with the other foster mothers to pick you and your sisters up.
You were all tiny, perfect, beautiful, wrapped in the quiet of the NICU.
They trained us in infant CPR and your apnea monitors then we bundled you up to “take you home.”
I put that in quotes because I believe your home is with your mom. Because I believe she never got a chance.
But I have to focus on the light.
My year with you was full of light. You were a wonderful baby and we loved you dearly. You are a wonderful young woman now, and we still love you.
We miss the years and pray the light always travels with you. And that you know, always know, you are loved.
Your life changed mine utterly. I can look back at who I was before you and know that I had good intentions and walked the road not as many walk.
I knew I needed to feed His sheep.
But the twin agonies of losing you and worrying about your loss were so harrowing. To lose a baby is a nearly insurmountable grief. To know that you had to question where did mama go? drove me wild with pain.
I clung to prayer, and learned these two things–
You need to stay close to Jesus and prayer must have feet.
I had to push all my maternal love toward these things–you close to Jesus and doing the kindness to others that I asked for you, because someone somewhere was praying for them the way I have prayed for you.
Always.
I would love to send you a real gift–a thing you could hold to know I am there and I love you. But until I am free to send the real to you, I will send you this and this.
Love you, dear heart
The day I lost you I sent you a letter. I sent a letter I knew your adopted parents would never let you see.
Just like your real name.
Just like your mother, your brother, your sisters. So many beautiful faces.
Taken from you.
I say this because you do have a real name and you do have a real story. And unlike most children adopted under spurious circumstances, you have a paper trail–articles in the local papers, a federal lawsuit. Questions about a very bad judge.
I knew that if I lost you, I had to send out every possible sign that you were and always would be loved.
A mother should be able to celebrate her children’s birthdays, but for your mother each day like this is a reminder of what was stolen from her.
Losing you broke my heart, but not mine alone.
All I ever wanted was to make sure you know, really know, you are loved.
So think of yourself as the magic princess, little one, whose royal parents send out lanterns on your birthday,hoping, just hoping you will see them.
All for you. All this light for you.
Carrying Light 