The Wrench Thrown at Me

Just when I tell God, “Okay. I will accept my life the way it is,” my acquiescence gets a wrench thrown into it.

Case in point: Today, D. doesn’t show up on time for the exchange to pick up LB. No communication saying that he is late, or whatever the situation is. If the situation was reversed and I was the one late? You can bet D. would not have stayed—unless he wanted LB off of his hands, which is also likely.

Long story short, D. doesn’t show up until 45 minutes later, after threatening to sic his bitch attorney on me and file contempt charges. LB, on the other hand, is now loathe to go to his "dad" and my heart is breaking by forcing him to go.

Moments like these…I feel my son’s pain, his anger and confusion, to the nth degree. I know what he is feeling because I was once subjected to the insanity. To now watch my son suffer it is almost unbearable. I am technically forced to pass off my son to his insane “father” when it’s the last thing, when it’s the very thing, that LB is begging me not to do. A mother’s heart can handle so much anguish, but the toxins released are damaging.

I leave the police station. Tears stream down my cheeks as I drive away and I beg God to protect my son…because I can’t right now. And it is the thing I tried and try so hard to do. It is what I was created to do. And when the thing that we are created to do as mothers is ripped away from us, we break down. We cry. We bawl. Our insides turn to bile and we feel everything that our children feel.

The thing is, I am subjected to these experiences on a regular basis. I am subjected to forcing MY son to be subjected to instability, insanity, neglect. And if I don’t abide by it, I risk losing my son even more.

It is in the midst of these situations where I am still to find some remnant of hope, of faith, that God is greater than all the other characters in the story…greater and more powerful than the bitch attorney…than D.…than the courts. And bigger and greater than my own anguish and heartache. It is in these moments where I am still to praise God and to trust Him, when that is the counterintuitive thing to do.

My heart still aches here tonight as I sit and type words on a screen, wondering and worrying over the emotional state of my young son. God is “my crag, my stronghold”. I have to hide within Him and hope that He will bring the ugly forces of “nature” outside to an end, without bringing too much harm to the innocent.