This...

I walked into their room---almost only her room again---to find my Mermaid violently shoving our Toddler's leftover unpacked clothes into a hot-pink suitcase.  Her movements had an edge to them that I recognized in my own forced motions.  She was hurting.  And she was trying to hide it.  I shut her door and made her come sit with me.

As she walked over to collapse into my lap she began to groan an angry:  I DON'T WANT THEM TO LEAVE.  I felt the weight of all that my family had opened itself up to this last year and half crash full-force around me.

{This, this is why you didn't want to foster, isn't it?


Yes, baby.  This exactly.  (I didn't mention that the part I was referring to was her pain)


But, I am glad we got the Littles.

Yes, baby.  Me too.  So glad.}

I left her room wondering when she'd blossomed into this complex creature who felt so deeply and loved so fiercely and tried to look so strong amidst internal sorrow.  Again I was reminded how she encapsulated so much of me and her Daddy yet was fast becoming a version of us that was all her own.  I headed to my bedroom and shut the door.  I stumbled into my bathroom and shut that door as well.  I slid down the wall and cried the hottest tears I have cried in a very long time hoping that the insulation of two closed doors would protect my children from seeing their Mom truly fall apart.

I thought about my friend and her recent tattoo of a lotus.  Apparently they bloom in mud and muck.  I thought about how God could use the fracture my absence is creating in my toddler's heart to develop the early plantings of character and of compassion.  I imagine my Spider-man as a Joseph to his family.  A child who will grow into a man that will lead the way to redemption of a whole family...a cycle breaker.  I thought about my "one" who was no longer with us.  How we practiced facing unimaginable disappointment and packing of possessions and the shelving of our own expectations.

I didn't ask for ANY of this. 

But down deep I know that I did.  When I asked Him to empty me...to break my heart for what breaks His...to help my family learn to live a life that is fully poured out.

This, this unselfish love for others that can only be found in Him--- His example as a parent to His children who He loves more than I can ever comprehend.   

This, while painful to watch, is beautiful to live.

Tomorrow a family will be reunited.  At a great cost to my own.  But at an even greater by-product of growth for my own.   

For this, I am so glad.

Say something....

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'll be the one, if you want me to
Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

This song is being over-played on the radio.  And I have a pre-teen and a teenager so the radio is a MUST in our car.  I get it.  I believe in self-discovery through music.  And by all means---judge me now---because I am not a "Christian-music-only" kinda mom...or person...so...yeah...we have heard this song several times a day lately.  If I am being honest, it's on my running playlist.  And when I am singing it, I am singing it to God.

 

And I am feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all

And I will stumble and fall
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you

Initially, I had guilt issues over seeing God's face every-time I heard this song, until I realized that He gets it.  And I was created to feel small, right?  Be humbled in His presence?  And I really am, after 37 years of living, just learning how to love.  And it hurts.  Which was my initial take on "love" that caused all my past pushing aways.  But now?  Now, I am clinging...clinging for dear Life...and the Life isn't mine.  It's a toddler's.

I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

At this point in the song my heart sings to her, because I have tried everything.  And I know she may never, ever understand that it was never my choice to leave her...rather...a court order that will force her out of my home.  A system that removed her to begin with in an effort to "protect her".  My husband tells me to think of where she'd be had she never had me?  I nod in agreement with him (and every other person who tries to comfort me with those words) but in my head I am simmering, ready to explode...where would she be?  She'd still be numb.  Un-attached.  Un-fractured.  She used to sleep through the night until her initial removal and several weeks of learning to live in a world that her needs would be met...even in the middle of the night.  But now?  She's found her voice.  She's learned to use it.  She just started sleeping through the night at my house about a week ago---15 months later.   

And I will swallow my pride
You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye

Say something, I'm giving up on you

She's not sleeping at her parent's house.  Maybe she's testing the newly-found-life-changing-claims-of-responsibility-waters?  I pray no one drowns in the rip tide that inevitably follows a selfish parent's momentary lapse into the real world of actually raising his/her child.  At least, that's my experience.  It never lasts.  The wave of hope is usually so big, so powerful that when it crashes upon the surface of real life the energy needed to push past the land has been spent and all that is left for the little feet waiting at the edge is a bubbling froth of good intentions...until the next wave comes.

 
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
And anywhere, I would have followed you
Oh-oh-oh-oh say something, I'm giving up on you

Say something, I'm giving up on you
Say something

I need to hear from Him.  I need reassurance that all will be well.  I am trying to fill my mind with His reminders.  I tried pushing Him away and that didn't work.  I wish I could give up.  I think it would actually be easier than holding onto my very damp, shivering Faith.  

Songwriters

AXEL, IAN / VACCARINO, CHAD / CAMPBELL, MIKE

Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC