Open Letter

Dearest Mom,

I know you’ve made some bad choices. I know you’ve made some bad priorities. Thank you for letting us in as you try to figure this all out. And I’m sorry that it must feel alone. Yes, the consequences are real, but you’re still a hurting person… you didn’t create all this chaos.

It’d be so easy to stereotype you. But you are far more than a stereotype.

I can’t possibly explain to you how I changed today. It hurt me to watch you crying. And no one from the county would offer you a tissue from the box on the table. I’m glad Matt reached over to get the box.

Forgiveness has to come, Mom. Hurts hurt deep, but there IS hope.

You have hard decisions. You have many pieces to get together. Hard pieces. Complicated peices. Pieces that require you to overcome fears and reset priorities. There are serious hurts. And I can tell how it’s worn on you.

Thank you for wanting your boys back. I saw it in your eyes far before you ever voiced it today. And I saw it in their eyes that you love them.

Thank you for choosing to let us in. It must feel so cold. And so ripped open. And so vulnerable.

Things are spinning, Mom. You’re stuck and in the driver seat all at once. And it’s easy to point fingers and feel like everyone is giving you the blame.

Yes, there are responsibilities. Chances missed.

But you are a person. And we all make mistakes. And thanks to Jesus we are all given a second chance.

My heart breaks for you, Mom. I was just asking my Matthew the other day on the ride home… your sweet boys in the back seats. Your oldest playing with our girls. I just listened to them. Giggling over a bad “do you know what” joke.

“What would you do if you only had two hours with our girls each week?”

Matt fired off adventures in piggy-back rides, tickle wars, horsey rides, Bible stories and reading fairytales until he was blue in the face.

I thought about my baby in the back seat. The one with the sweeping red hair and those big beautiful eyes.

“I would nurse that baby the whole time. Read to my precious girls and snuggle. No, I’d nurse that baby for an hour and 55 minutes, pack up everyone and run for the border.”

Mom, I can’t even imagine. I would literally come undone.

You don’t have to make perfect choices to love your kids. Sometimes we do things without thinking. Sometimes we are unaware of the consequences. Sometimes we feel “above” the consequences. Sometimes we just make dumb moves. Sometimes we find ourselves in situations we never thought possible. Sure there are things we can do to avoid those kinds of situations, but sometimes life seems to spin out of control. And one bad choice seems to multiply out into utter chaos.

I know you love them. I can’t even imagine how you go on in the quiet house.

It hurts. I can see it on your face. Your body language. Though you hold a smile of sincere joy when they see you. Two hours go by too fast.

He told me he doesn’t like to meet in room four at the visitation center. He informed me room four has a clock. And that way you know what time it is and when the visit has to end.

I love how he wants to defy time with you.

You are still his hero.

Thank you for trying hard. Thank you for rising above the stereotype laid at the doorway of Children’s Services. Thank you for trying. Thank you. Keep trying. Keep changing.

Please don’t give up.

Please.

We are praying for you, Mom. We are praying for healing. Soul healing. And wisdom.

We are praying hard for you, Mom.

Remember those dear little faces. Those precious hands in yours. Those beautiful eyes.

Please don’t give up.

Even when it hurts to change.

You boys are amazing.

And they are so worth it.

Sincerely,

Mommy of three.