Post 9 of week 9. Revealing a little more of my heart today. This picture, taken about 11 years ago, is of my son with his daughter and nephew on a beautiful summer day in Michigan.
It’s difficult to write about things that make you feel as if you have to go into long explanations or excuse behavior. You think to yourself, “I have this story I want to tell, but it’s not a simple story and it exhausts me to try and explain all the circumstances so that the reader will understand.”
I remember I was living in Arizona at the time. I think my second divorce was final by then but I’m not sure. I was working through a lot of emotional junk. I got a call from my son saying there had been an accident and the police were accusing him of hitting a young woman with his car, killing her, and driving off.
I felt so sorry for the young woman and her family. I felt sorry for my son who was convinced he hadn’t done this thing at all. He would have never knowingly hit someone with his car and driven off without stopping to render aid.
Not much happened for many months, then he was arrested, charged with vehicular homicide and leaving the scene of an accident with death, and my mother’s heart was broken. I emptied out my meager 401K to pay for his attorney. He went to trial, was convicted, then sentenced to 11 years in prison.
My son who had never been in trouble. Ever.
I was angry at God for letting this happen, and disappointed in myself that I couldn’t somehow ‘fix’ it. I was his mother, after all. It’s my job to protect my children.
I succumbed to the darkness of depression for some months. When your heart is full to overflowing with despair and sadness, there’s no room for light or love or laughter.
I began writing weekly letters to my son for encouragement. I poured myself into those letters willing the words to somehow help him.
What do you do with an injustice? How do you deal with the ongoing pain?
I remember demanding God give me two things – I wanted my son out of there and I wanted him to return to his faith. God said ‘yes’ to the second, and ‘wait’ on the first.
The second, of course, is the most important.
I moved here to Florida for the express purpose of visiting him every weekend. It’s a 5 hour round trip. But I couldn’t leave him there alone. I just couldn’t.
“God is good all the time. All the time God is good.”
I have to admit it took me a while to really believe those words in my heart. It has taken me many years to truly acknowledge that God loves my children more than I do and that he really, really, really has their best interest in mind. It doesn’t mean I don’t still ask, well, beg, for God to have my son released. But it does mean I can rest knowing God is in control of the bigger picture.
Why am I writing this, you’re asking? To say that I understand. I can see those hidden places in your heart. Those places you keep sealed up tight so no one can hurt you. Those secrets that bring anxiety and fear. It’s ok. Hand them over to the One who understands more than anyone else and let him begin the healing process.
One day you’ll realize it doesn’t hurt so much anymore, and you don’t feel the need to explain anymore, and you won’t be ashamed anymore.
Knowing you’re loved and valuable and cherished no matter what happened in the past, is freeing.
Believe it – God loves you as if you were his favorite.
Trust in his timing and trust his heart.
