Months ago, I pulled up to the parking garage where the car was left behind. I walked to every business in the vicinity, asking if anyone saw my daughter. I begged to look at outdoor cameras. Being denied without a warrant was frustrating. Finally, the police reviewed one camera, and from what they saw, began a missing person report.
Now parents are planning their kid's funerals. I have not physically done it, but I can confirm the thoughts have haunted me. As the tears fell from my eyes, my heart broke for her children. How would I tell them their mother was gone? I ran through an entire scenario that hadn't happened yet.
begin to make plans for their future, I wonder why my kids never believed they should do the same. We are told not to ask, but I can't let go of the questions, "What did I do wrong?.. Could I have done more to help them?.. Didn't I teach them confidence?" I could go on. What happened here?
The overwhelming source of 'sin' being laid on me by Satan himself was a sham. He used my compassion, empathy, and sorrow against me. The devil wanted me to soak in the loss of His game. He was happy watching me suffer for something I did not do. Even my anger became his play toy. Justifying it just as he did depression, sadness, remorse, and every other emotion and feeling I used to batter my soul.
Letting go was forfeiting my need to be some part of their savior.
An addict's mother crying, as the day begins. Endless prayers are rising, her hope speaks to win. But battles are not owned by mothers on the side. And gloves may be on, but never touch the fight.
Hindsight leads to insight, and if I knew then, what I know now, it would be a different ballgame. It may not change the outcome because the one lesson I know better than any is I can never change another human's mind. I do not own that power.
We woke to crashing and movement of furniture. I quickly ran upstairs and listened at my daughters door. She was screaming, "Let me out of here!" With caution, I approached her door and began to turn the handle. It wasn't locked, I'm not even sure it has a lock. There was my daughter, on her knees, fighting the lockless handle, to escape her room.
God's love will lead us to step aside. His parenting must come first.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw us in that bathroom, her eyes closed and mine filled with pain. Will she ever know the depths of my love? Who knew God would use a moment blow drying her hair to bring about a profound reminder of hope.