“Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.”
~ Carl Sandburg
Does God give kisses? I think He does. In October of 1992, my husband Steve and I adopted twins — a boy and a girl. We suddenly became parents two hours after they were born. Their birth mother, older sister and brother never laid eyes on them. We named them Heather and Joel. They were ours.
We knew Heather and Joel’s prenatal situation had been bleak. During her pregnancy their birth mother had suffered greatly; held captive in the prison of domestic abuse for many years. Along the hard, hard path she had walked, Heather and Joel had been conceived. As this pregnancy was rushing to its end, she made the courageous choice to relinquish the baby for adoption. Neither she, nor anyone else, knew she was carrying twins. In a hastily arranged meeting at her apartment she, Steve and I met for the first time. This was to be her moment of decision. Would relinquishing this “baby” to Steve and me be her best choice? Could we, as total strangers to her, be the kind of parents she wanted to take her baby into our hearts and break this generational chain of abuse?
There was no hint of any involvement with an adoption agency or even a social worker. This, of course, is a nearly unheard of situation. Her apartment bore the scars of poverty and abuse. Unmistakable signs such as fist-sized holes in the walls. She appeared to be afraid of Steve. She did not make eye contact with him or speak to him. The entire exchange was between her and me. I didn’t blame her for being afraid of men. I would have been too. I didn’t blame or judge her for her desperate situation. I figured she probably could not bear her reality. I knew what that felt like too, in my own way. And she was honest with me.
I knew there was a possibility of prenatal problems adversely affecting the baby. I knew because she told me. But I had struggled through 16 years of trying to have a baby; including multiple procedures and surgeries. I had endured 3 miscarriages. One of them had come very close to killing me. This baby was a miracle to me. All of my dreams come true…
I later started calling my twins…after they were born and we knew they were two, “a kiss on the lips from God.” They were the joy of my life. But by November of 2009, so much had happened to shipwreck my joy, my dreams and even my faith in God…
One morning after my son’s frightening behavior had escalated a level I could no longer manage, I felt in my spirit God whispering to me,
“NO MATTER HOW HARD IT GETS…NEVER GIVE UP”.
All I can hear,
resounding in my brain
over and over again…
Is the sound of a slammed door in front of me
and the angry click of a paddle lock…without a key.
This lock is not your friend.
For it will destroy you in the end.
It will crush all the beauty once
living within your spirit.
God’s voice is calling.
Can you no longer hear it?
Can you no longer hear me?
Is this who you really want to be?
Are you choosing to let “The Rage”
control your life’s every page?
Ruining you at such a young age,
as it puts you in an impervious cage?
If that becomes your chosen choice,
just like so many along that road
your heart will darken and implode.
And too young for your
dreams to ever begin,
they will be lost…you cannot win.
Becoming a wasted opportunity
with nothing to show.
Causing a wounding and forever blow.
For from your life there will be no gain.
A spinning wheel turning in vain,
leaving behind, an abyss of needless pain.
~~tricia woodworth March 1, 2015