I was laying awake around 4-ish this morning, think of Bunny sleeping in prison, wondering how long that will be her daily life - 2 weeks - a few more months - years? It's all unknown and yet even just a few more days feel like too much for me to bear. This is my best friend Bunny. 13 years old - blonde hair, blue eyes and barely 95 pounds. How is this our reality?
I tried to comfort myself thinking of people of the faith in prison - Joseph, unjustly imprisoned for the lies of Potipher's wife; Jeremiah, chained because the people didn't like what he was prophesying; John the Baptist - jailed and beheaded for speaking truth against Herod; Peter, Paul, Silas, and so many others jailed and eventually martyred for professing their faith. This wasn't really a source of comfort. Bunny is justly detained. Bunny is guilty.
On this side of justice, the same old verses and heroes of the faith aren't nearly as inspirational as you'd like them to be. Job was selected to be tempted specifically because of his righteousness. Daniel faced the lions den for refusing to stop praying and worshiping the one true God. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego refused to bow down to an idol, even if the Lord didn't save them from the fiery furnace. Joshua watched the walls crumble at the sound of trumpets. Elijah faced down the priests of Baal. And nearly every apostle of the Lord died for the Lord's sake. When you are on the side of righteousness, it's a lot easier to cry to Lord. The Lord is perfect and just - He is righteous in all of His ways. Of course He would answer the call for something right and good.
But that's not my crew anymore. I hang with Jacob, as he is on the run from stealing his brother's blessing by lying to his dad. I'm in the crowd watching Aaron (you know - start of the whole high priestly line) fashion a golden calf because Moses is taking too long on the mountain. I'm in the throne room with David, as Nathan says "you are that man" - having ordered the death of Uriah the Hittite so David could take his wife. These are my people - not to glorify their mistakes but to see God's grace in action.
We all are recipients of grace and mercy and forgiveness. For some, you can feel pretty self-righteous and mirror the prayers of these faith warriors that fill our children's board books and are made into Veggie Tales films. But some of us (me) feel the need for grace and mercy and forgiveness more acutely.
What's amazing to me is that Jesus' own lineage includes Jacob and David. The very fact the bible shows people like Jacob and David at their worst and their best is such a huge comfort for me. I know Bunny is not only that 60 minutes of January 8th. That is not the sum of who she is - who she was - or who she will become.
I simply cannot stand under the weight of "what should be". That life is gone forever. But here and now - living in "what is" - I take comfort that this isn't the end of the story. And even in our worst, we are still in good company.
Thursday, February 27, 2020
Wednesday, February 26, 2020
Perspective from 50 feet away
Yesterday in court was the first time we were in the same room as the victims.
It took until the drive back to Evansville to finally understand what was gnawing in my brain. Their perspective. We are the defendants - the ones who have caused harm. They are the victims. And every time I pray for God to grant leniency and mercy for Bunny - I am, by default, praying that God denies them justice.
That crushed me. In fact, it continues to crush me. How can I sing Micah 6:8 and actively pray that victims be denied justice? How can I look at my adult life of advocating for those suffering in an unjust system - generational poverty; racial inequity; gender bias; the failings of our justice system - and not see the hypocrisy of my own prayer?
Because she is mine.
Because I am desperate for her to be home.
Because we will continue to live and breathe feeling the weight of her absence every single moment she is gone from us.
All of those things remain true - but I can no longer pray for God to deny these victims justice simply because my daughter is the defendant.
I will ask for strength for each member of my family as we walk this path.
I will ask for God's presence to surround us no matter what is to come.
I will tell God that my greatest desire is for Bunny to be home.
And I will trust that He will bring to pass what is good. That if He miraculous grants mercy March 10th and Bunny comes home - that somehow He will also make that ok for the victims; that He will be ministering to their hearts as well as ours. And if His path for our family is for Bunny to continue to be detained, that He will somehow make that ok for us; that He will minister to our hearts through the separation.
He has shown you, oh man, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you
But to do justly
To love mercy
And to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8, NKJV)
It took until the drive back to Evansville to finally understand what was gnawing in my brain. Their perspective. We are the defendants - the ones who have caused harm. They are the victims. And every time I pray for God to grant leniency and mercy for Bunny - I am, by default, praying that God denies them justice.
That crushed me. In fact, it continues to crush me. How can I sing Micah 6:8 and actively pray that victims be denied justice? How can I look at my adult life of advocating for those suffering in an unjust system - generational poverty; racial inequity; gender bias; the failings of our justice system - and not see the hypocrisy of my own prayer?
Because she is mine.
Because I am desperate for her to be home.
Because we will continue to live and breathe feeling the weight of her absence every single moment she is gone from us.
All of those things remain true - but I can no longer pray for God to deny these victims justice simply because my daughter is the defendant.
I will ask for strength for each member of my family as we walk this path.
I will ask for God's presence to surround us no matter what is to come.
I will tell God that my greatest desire is for Bunny to be home.
And I will trust that He will bring to pass what is good. That if He miraculous grants mercy March 10th and Bunny comes home - that somehow He will also make that ok for the victims; that He will be ministering to their hearts as well as ours. And if His path for our family is for Bunny to continue to be detained, that He will somehow make that ok for us; that He will minister to our hearts through the separation.
He has shown you, oh man, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you
But to do justly
To love mercy
And to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8, NKJV)
Tuesday, February 25, 2020
Update from court
This morning Bunny had her Admission Hearing in which she admitted to the charges of attempted murder (of the girl bullying her) and arson. The other 6 charges were dismissed.
The actual hearing was very difficult to sit through. The victim’s family (mother, father and daughter) were present in addition to the prosecutor, detectives and other official personnel. For our side, we had David and I sitting with Bunny and the lawyer, and Joe and Gretchen behind us.
Bunny was sworn in and then questioned for the two charges by our lawyer, admitting her guilt, and then again with a little more narrative about her intent to harm by the prosecuting attorney. Finally the judge had her admit to the charges for a 3rd time and provide a detailed account of the events that night. Bunny spoke clearly the entire time but was extremely shaken by the process.
The disposition hearing (sentencing) is scheduled for March 10th at 3pm, on the condition that the psychiatrist is available to testify that day. Also that day there will be testimony by the detectives and potentially the victims. It is scheduled to take an hour and a half and at that time the judge will decide the immediate placement and the initial duration. For juveniles, the judge has authority until she is 21, so any sentencing can be revisited by the judge for either more harsh or more lenient conditions.
Until March 10, she continues to be detained at Dickinson Juvenile Detention in Franklin Indiana.
David and I will be visiting her Thursday evening and will hopefully be able to help her process today’s events.
We continue to feel the grace of all your prayers for Bunny and on our behalf. Waiting for dispositioning will be hard on everyone - especially Bunny. However, today was a big hurdle and we are glad to have it behind us. The very fact that 6 charges were dismissed and we didn’t have to sit through an entire fact finding hearing is a great mercy.
Thank you all so much for your continued prayers and support. Our hearts desire is Bunny would be sent home on house arrest March 11 - that is not likely from a worldly perspective - but we pray this to the God of miracles - of mercy - of hope.
The actual hearing was very difficult to sit through. The victim’s family (mother, father and daughter) were present in addition to the prosecutor, detectives and other official personnel. For our side, we had David and I sitting with Bunny and the lawyer, and Joe and Gretchen behind us.
Bunny was sworn in and then questioned for the two charges by our lawyer, admitting her guilt, and then again with a little more narrative about her intent to harm by the prosecuting attorney. Finally the judge had her admit to the charges for a 3rd time and provide a detailed account of the events that night. Bunny spoke clearly the entire time but was extremely shaken by the process.
The disposition hearing (sentencing) is scheduled for March 10th at 3pm, on the condition that the psychiatrist is available to testify that day. Also that day there will be testimony by the detectives and potentially the victims. It is scheduled to take an hour and a half and at that time the judge will decide the immediate placement and the initial duration. For juveniles, the judge has authority until she is 21, so any sentencing can be revisited by the judge for either more harsh or more lenient conditions.
Until March 10, she continues to be detained at Dickinson Juvenile Detention in Franklin Indiana.
David and I will be visiting her Thursday evening and will hopefully be able to help her process today’s events.
We continue to feel the grace of all your prayers for Bunny and on our behalf. Waiting for dispositioning will be hard on everyone - especially Bunny. However, today was a big hurdle and we are glad to have it behind us. The very fact that 6 charges were dismissed and we didn’t have to sit through an entire fact finding hearing is a great mercy.
Thank you all so much for your continued prayers and support. Our hearts desire is Bunny would be sent home on house arrest March 11 - that is not likely from a worldly perspective - but we pray this to the God of miracles - of mercy - of hope.
Cosmic Nuetrality
I listened to the lawyer describe the worst 60 minutes of my families history in minute details - parts I had never heard. Parts I didn’t want to know. I sat in silence, shaking with invisible tears as I listened to my children’s lives dissected, their motives, their emotions, their actions and words. I tried to give account as a parent - one who wasn’t even there - and for my husband - who had been there. In those 60 minutes we had all failed in so many ways and I was desperate to shout out “but you don’t know them as I know them”. I wanted my turn to give account of all of the love and happiness; every good memory; every act of kindness; every word of encouragement.
And that’s the first time in my life that I finally got it - good deeds don’t matter. In the grand scheme of life, good deeds are simply doing what ought to be done. The scales of justice do not tip in your favor - they simply remain neutral.
That may sound unfair but think of it this way. Do you get a free pass of saying a mean thing for every 10 nice things you say? Do you explain to the police officer how many times you’ve obeyed the speed limit when he pulls you over for doing 70 in a 55 zone? Two wrongs do not make a right. And two rights can’t undo a wrong. All of the kind words uttered cannot unsay the ugly words spoken in anger. All the acts of kindness cannot undo the act of aggression. The sum of Bunny’s best moments can not undo her worst.
The Law made nothing perfect.
42 years of Sunday school and sermons and bible studies and I didn’t understand it until that moment. There is no hope in justice. The very best life (and none of us are perfect) could only hope for cosmic neutrality.
The only comfort we have is in grace and mercy and forgiveness.
Lord have mercy.
And that’s the first time in my life that I finally got it - good deeds don’t matter. In the grand scheme of life, good deeds are simply doing what ought to be done. The scales of justice do not tip in your favor - they simply remain neutral.
That may sound unfair but think of it this way. Do you get a free pass of saying a mean thing for every 10 nice things you say? Do you explain to the police officer how many times you’ve obeyed the speed limit when he pulls you over for doing 70 in a 55 zone? Two wrongs do not make a right. And two rights can’t undo a wrong. All of the kind words uttered cannot unsay the ugly words spoken in anger. All the acts of kindness cannot undo the act of aggression. The sum of Bunny’s best moments can not undo her worst.
The Law made nothing perfect.
42 years of Sunday school and sermons and bible studies and I didn’t understand it until that moment. There is no hope in justice. The very best life (and none of us are perfect) could only hope for cosmic neutrality.
The only comfort we have is in grace and mercy and forgiveness.
Lord have mercy.
Saturday, February 22, 2020
An elephant and a gorilla walk into a room
I've been getting more and more mentally fractured as we approach the fact finding hearing on Tuesday. My anxiety is high. I keep picturing images from those initial 48 hours.And while the sentencing is by far the greatest weight on my mind, there is a nagging that began on January 8th which has never been silenced.
Why?
As her parents, there is a certain place where the who/what/where/when/why/how just don't matter. She is our daughter and we will do whatever she needs. We will love her no matter what. We will be her support system for the rest of our days.
But the fact finding involves reading the charges; presenting the evidence; describing the events of that night; listening to testimony from the victims (potentially - this isn't confirmed yet). This nightmare will be described down to the smallest detail in front of lawyers and judges and probation officers - all while being recorded by an elderly woman who can type super fast.
In this large room, filled with dark wood furniture, with an impressive judge's bench, significantly elevated like a throne looking down on the rest of us, you are made to feel small. The room exudes the crushing weight of justice. Simply being in the room makes you feel vulnerable. Now imagine you are sitting next to your blonde haired little girl, who is 5'8" but not yet passed 100 lbs. She's been brought in by an armed guard. Transported in shackles. We sit together in the front row, directly beneath the gaze of the judge - David, then me, then Bunny, then the lawyer.
As the prosecution presents all the evidence, every single person in that room will be thinking a singular question: why?
Honestly, I'm not sure even she could answer - or that any answer she gave would satisfy an adult mind whose looking for reason and logic. I think this mystery is woven into the fabric of our family - we are forever changed by it - our paths irreparably altered by it - but never given the satisfaction of understanding.
The first several days it was nearly impossible for me to hold the two things in my head - what I knew of Bunny and what the evidence showed. After awhile it became obvious that Bunny is the same Bunny I know and love and this was a circumstance that had to be dealt with, but never reconciled in my mind.
Tuesday David and Bunny and I will go back to our assigned seats in the cavern of justice. We will sit in silent solidarity as our sweet B is painted a monster. We will join the elephant and gorilla in their confusion.
And we will pray for mercy.
Why?
As her parents, there is a certain place where the who/what/where/when/why/how just don't matter. She is our daughter and we will do whatever she needs. We will love her no matter what. We will be her support system for the rest of our days.
But the fact finding involves reading the charges; presenting the evidence; describing the events of that night; listening to testimony from the victims (potentially - this isn't confirmed yet). This nightmare will be described down to the smallest detail in front of lawyers and judges and probation officers - all while being recorded by an elderly woman who can type super fast.
In this large room, filled with dark wood furniture, with an impressive judge's bench, significantly elevated like a throne looking down on the rest of us, you are made to feel small. The room exudes the crushing weight of justice. Simply being in the room makes you feel vulnerable. Now imagine you are sitting next to your blonde haired little girl, who is 5'8" but not yet passed 100 lbs. She's been brought in by an armed guard. Transported in shackles. We sit together in the front row, directly beneath the gaze of the judge - David, then me, then Bunny, then the lawyer.
As the prosecution presents all the evidence, every single person in that room will be thinking a singular question: why?
Honestly, I'm not sure even she could answer - or that any answer she gave would satisfy an adult mind whose looking for reason and logic. I think this mystery is woven into the fabric of our family - we are forever changed by it - our paths irreparably altered by it - but never given the satisfaction of understanding.
The first several days it was nearly impossible for me to hold the two things in my head - what I knew of Bunny and what the evidence showed. After awhile it became obvious that Bunny is the same Bunny I know and love and this was a circumstance that had to be dealt with, but never reconciled in my mind.
Tuesday David and Bunny and I will go back to our assigned seats in the cavern of justice. We will sit in silent solidarity as our sweet B is painted a monster. We will join the elephant and gorilla in their confusion.
And we will pray for mercy.
Wednesday, February 19, 2020
If it wasn't this, it would be something else
The under-rated, delightful movie "Elizabethtown" features a male lead whose life went down the toilet and as he is just starting to process his own life issues, his dad dies suddenly. He travels to Elizabethtown, KY (just about an hour from where we live now) to make arrangements with an extended family he has spend very little time with. His father was loved by all and was famous for a positive attitude. When something bad happened, he would smile and say "Well, if it wasn't this, it would be something else."
Just this week alone, a student of mine suddenly lost her grandmother, a friend's dog ran away and a coworker got diagnosed with a brain tumor.
It makes me think about how everyone has a story underneath the surface. Beneath everyone saying "I'm fine, how are you?" casually in the hallway, people have their own issues to process - their own grief to bear - their own "something else" that I have no clue about. While I smile and say "I'm fine" to students and coworkers and acquaintances who don't know our situation - I feel hollow inside. Sure, I'm not actively grieving and crying multiple times a day like I was at the beginning; but I am not fine. In fact, as we get closer to the fact-finding hearing, I'm getting worse and worse. I'm not sleeping; I'm easily distracted; I'm sad; I'm terribly anxious. And I'm hollow.
This missing piece in my life makes everything else have an echo - it amplifies the hurt and emptiness. We celebrated the boys 16th birthday and it was an amazing birthday weekend for all. While we were celebrating them, we got an offer on our house (just 31 hours after it listed). We celebrated that too. But each smile and hug reminded me only more of how empty everything felt without B. It was ALMOST a perfect day. It was a wonderful family celebration with everyone there...except her. It was great news for new beginnings....but a new beginning without her with us - at least for now.
I can easily get lost in my own pain and miss how others are suffering around me. I can take someone else's "I'm fine" at face value and miss that there is grief just below the surface. The greatest gift throughout this process has been people who see that I'm not ok. People to pray, to encourage and keep me company. Community is how we make it through this time and every time to come. The people who weep with me while I weep - laugh with me while I laugh - celebrate the highs and comfort me through the lows...these are the people who are holding me up daily.
The male lead in Elizabethtown gets a girl out of this story (and who wouldn't want to see Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst come together?) - but his real change in perspective happens when he moves away from being an independent person who's "fine" and becomes a part of a community that helps him to mourn.
If it wasn't this, it would be something else...but no matter what it is, I know I have people to walk this road with me. And that is the greatest gift of all.
Just this week alone, a student of mine suddenly lost her grandmother, a friend's dog ran away and a coworker got diagnosed with a brain tumor.
It makes me think about how everyone has a story underneath the surface. Beneath everyone saying "I'm fine, how are you?" casually in the hallway, people have their own issues to process - their own grief to bear - their own "something else" that I have no clue about. While I smile and say "I'm fine" to students and coworkers and acquaintances who don't know our situation - I feel hollow inside. Sure, I'm not actively grieving and crying multiple times a day like I was at the beginning; but I am not fine. In fact, as we get closer to the fact-finding hearing, I'm getting worse and worse. I'm not sleeping; I'm easily distracted; I'm sad; I'm terribly anxious. And I'm hollow.
This missing piece in my life makes everything else have an echo - it amplifies the hurt and emptiness. We celebrated the boys 16th birthday and it was an amazing birthday weekend for all. While we were celebrating them, we got an offer on our house (just 31 hours after it listed). We celebrated that too. But each smile and hug reminded me only more of how empty everything felt without B. It was ALMOST a perfect day. It was a wonderful family celebration with everyone there...except her. It was great news for new beginnings....but a new beginning without her with us - at least for now.
I can easily get lost in my own pain and miss how others are suffering around me. I can take someone else's "I'm fine" at face value and miss that there is grief just below the surface. The greatest gift throughout this process has been people who see that I'm not ok. People to pray, to encourage and keep me company. Community is how we make it through this time and every time to come. The people who weep with me while I weep - laugh with me while I laugh - celebrate the highs and comfort me through the lows...these are the people who are holding me up daily.
The male lead in Elizabethtown gets a girl out of this story (and who wouldn't want to see Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst come together?) - but his real change in perspective happens when he moves away from being an independent person who's "fine" and becomes a part of a community that helps him to mourn.
If it wasn't this, it would be something else...but no matter what it is, I know I have people to walk this road with me. And that is the greatest gift of all.
Tuesday, February 18, 2020
Hello darkness my old friend
This has been my worst week by far. My baseline anxiety is higher, my emotional state is lower, my temper has a shorted fuse and my mental downward spirals last longer. That’s not great.
I could blame February - the absolute worst month to live in the Midwest with its dreary skies and perpetual dribble of rain, sleet or snow (dependent on the temperature of the moment). I could blame cumulative emotion that has been welling up for weeks as finally bursting through. I could blame the sheer exhaustion that came from moving our whole house, throwing away 2/3 of our possessions and transitioning the family and pets to Evansville in less than 3 weeks time.
Those things aren’t fun - and they certainly don’t help. But I know the real issue. Time itself. With each passing day, the four of us create a new normal, begin setting in routines, figuring out what life looks like for the 4 of us to live in the apartment. An address that will never include Bunny.
With the house empty, the to-do list is checked off and thrown in the trash. Now our days aren’t preparing for the next thing - we are living the next thing. Without her.
The boys birthday was in a detention center, eating Twix and hanging out for our state-issued hour of family time - with no idea when that could happen again - but the hour passed. We left Bunny to be locked up amongst strangers and drove back to the apartment she will never call home.
And this weekend, we will spend all weekend as a family celebrating the boys in Louisville. Making new memories. Without her.
While she is always in our thoughts and prayers, life looks nothing like the one she left behind. We are building something new - something she isn’t a part of. It’s temporary, I know. She will come home someday. We will once again make a new normal and create new routines that include her in the mix. The day-to-day will have Bunny built into the activities and the memories will feature her front and center. But not yet. And I don’t really have an idea of how long the waiting will last.
I want to wait in a cryogenic tube and let life pass all of us by so we experience each new thing together. I want to bury myself beneath my covers and not come out until it is time to go pick her up and bring her home. I want to tell everyone that they can’t have birthdays and no good things can be celebrated until Bunny can be at the party.
I want the darkness to part - and instead it is settling in all around me. The million thoughts I want to share with her - her laugh mixed in with her brothers as David makes another bad pun - her voice joining mine as we sing to Tuck or reenact Hamilton - its all missing for now. And the silence shouts in my ear - where she is, you cannot follow...
“ Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains, Within the sound of silence”
Homeless, unemployed, with a kid in juvi
Ok - so that‘s an overly dramatic way to phrase things, but as David and I drove away from the empty house, that was our reality.
My Evansville apartment has always felt more like an “Extend Stay America” than a home. And it was never intended to be a home for the 5 of us. Nathan and I basically slept and ate and showered there during the week and “came home” to West Lafayette nearly every weekend. But now that isn’t home either. We now have a temporary dwelling as we wait to hear what will happen with Bunny and decide the timeline for the next step in housing for our family.
David worked his last shift in Lafayette this week and doesn’t start his new job until March. An odd time between jobs, intentionally keeping his schedule free as we list the house and go through the process of Bunny’s next set of hearings.
This isn’t what we saw for ourselves even just a few weeks ago. Christmas vacation was full of good memories with all 5 of us under the same roof in our house of 6+ years. Home was clearly defined. The plan for the transition to Evansville was clearly defined. I had New Years intentions of getting serious about exercise and professional goals for work.
Life is way more complicated and yet much more simple. Priorities for our time and attention are clearly defined. We wait for things beyond our control, while moving through the day-to-day. We mentally shy away from what could happen and try to focus on what we can do to support each other in the here and now.
So while typical life identity markers like addresses and jobs and plans for the future are no longer big ticket items for us - we hold to a more foundational truth - who Bunny is - how we love her - our family and friends who never waiver - our faith that Love wins every single time. And that same Love holds us - no matter where we are.
When you're kicked while you're down
Being kicked while you're down is a great image for abundant abuse and suffering. All your strength has failed you, you can’t run away. All you can do is take it.
So what do you picture while you’re laying on the ground having your ribs fractured? You imagine standing. You imagine strength. You imagine blue skies and absolutely everything that is not this moment.
What do I see now? I see Bunny and I in NYC standing outside a theater in cute little black dresses. We are gawking at huge posters for the latest hit Broadway show and commenting about how amazing that Italian restaurant on the upper west side was. We are laughing and smiling and clasping hands as we hold up our self phones taking selfies under the neon. The whole world is our oyster and we are going to live into every moment of it.
My ribs hurt. I may be suffering some internal bleeding. Everything hurts so much I can’t even tell the difference between all the injuries. But what do I see - Broadway neon. Her smile.
Right now - that has to be enough.
This side of the unknown
If you know me personally then you know I've wrestled with anxiety and depression for most of my life. Actually, I'll just say anxiety, because I was really only depressed that I was anxious...
Anxiety for most is a normal response, especially for things out of our control. We aren't sure how things are going to work out and so we worry about it. The more something matters to us, the more mental energy we give to it. For a regular person, I would imagine it might look like this...
How's that hard conversation with a friend going to go...little anxiety
Big job interview...high anxiety
Waiting for test results from the doctor that could change your life...major anxiety
Life for me is a little different. How will people react to me? high anxiety. How will I sleep tonight? major anxiety. What will tomorrow bring? Crushing anxiety.
For me, I'm trying to exercise control over every little moment of my life and for those moments I can't control, I create a plethora of scenarios to try to plan my response. I cannot control what happens - but I can control how I react. I can't control whether or not I sleep well, but I can have plans A - Z on how to prioritize my day based on how much energy I have to spend.
I plan, sort and organize everything in my life - which can make it seem like I have it all together. To people outside my personal version of crazy, it can seem like I make decisions quickly and efficiently and am able to react well to anything that comes my way.
But I never saw this coming. There is no plan A, let alone any others, to help me react.
For every step of this process, I create a new list of possibilities, so I can feel a little less powerless. So I can grasp a shadow of a thought of control. In my mind (which is a whirling, hurricane of thoughts) I can try to prepare for the best, the worst and everything in between. But if this experience has taught me anything, it's that I truly cannot conceive of all that life can throw at me.
So how do I keep going while living out something worse than my darkest nightmares?
I know this isn't the end of the story. I know there is a time when this will be behind us. I know someday I will look back on the pieces of my life shattered all around me - but somehow, I will have been restored. Somehow my family will be restored.
That is my hope...this side of the unknown...
My patron saint is Doubting Thomas
Bunny is praying for house arrest.
When she told me I immediately replied “well honey you know that may not happen.” I didn’t want her to have her hopes up for something that likely won’t happen.
And then I barely slept a wink. All night I tossed and turned wrestling with what I believe about God, about prayer, about faith.
I’ve been wrestling with prayer for years now. I’ve earnestly prayed for outcomes that didn’t come to pass and I felt burned by God. But now my lack of faith is toe to toe with the most important prayer of my life thus far. Bring my daughter home.
How can I simultaneously say that I am trusting God in this and yet tell my daughter basically not to pray. Well kiddo, your prayer doesn’t really align with reality - with what we expect - with what is most likely. How about you pray for comfort in your cell, because that’s what you probably actually need.
Of course I didn’t say those words. I would never say those words to her. But that’s honestly what I was thinking. And I had to ask myself - do I really trust God or is it all lip service to a faith that I claim but don’t live?
Yes - it is a miracle that I am asking for. And praying will not make it come to pass. But what the heck am I doing if not praying for the truest desire of my heart? Why pray at all if I won’t honestly tell God my truest hopes and fears?
David and I are praying and fasting until Feb 25 - not to try to force Gods hand to give us what we want - but to lay flat out before Him what we want - and trust that He sees - He hears - He loves. And even as I type there’s a voice in my head that says “but what is He says no”....and I have to respond to my own heart - then we trust for grace in that moment. But this is the moment to pray for the miracle and let go of the what-ifs or what’s next. In this moment, we pray.
Go easy on doubting Thomas - he’s in good company....
"It's taken care of" is the new "I love you"
His warm smile made his eyes twinkle a little as he reviewed the paperwork in front of him. All the measurements were done, the date was set and I was ready for the quote.
"It's been taken care of."
While my mouth was hanging open, unable to even say thank you, he continued, "A lot of people love you guys."
It's truly overwhelming to live as a constant recipient of this outpouring of affection. "Thank you" seems so small compared to the abundant generosity.
As I type, I have 4 men from church, "Helping Hands", painting trim, touching up baseboards and making the scuffs and dings in our house disappear. Thank you.
As gas cards arrive, we use them nearly daily refilling our tanks driving back and forth to the detention center or to Evansville or West Lafayette. Thank you.
As gift cards for meals, inside thoughtful notes, land in my mailbox, I rely on them to feed my family. Thank you.
As friends pick up eggs and milk, return library books and visit with coffee in hand. Thank you.
As my mom and mother-in-law know my kids schedule better than I do and know who needs to be picked up and taken somewhere, have them for dinner or distract them with movie nights. Thank you.
As David's friend (5 months pregnant) at work covers part of his shift so he can visit Bunny after our plans needed to change. Thank you.
As my coworker tells me to ignore the emails coming in about an upcoming event we are supposed to be coordinating together. Thank you.
The words "it's taken care of" really means "you're taken care of". And that really means "we love you".
We've received generosity in the forms of money, gift cards, meals, service, and time and prayer. Extraordinarily tangible expressions of love. But behind them all, I see hearts of love - of empathy - the heart of God.
Thank you.
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