Painful Conclusions.

I tried to be a savior, but it has only left me in a state of disbelief, sadness, and anger. I thought I was being helpful – I located resources, offered my services, sacrificed time and emotion only to have said help rejected. Not only was it rejected, but I was seen as a hostile threat not to be trusted. I was threatened, both literally by the family and internally through my own fear of what could happen to me, but mostly by my fears of what will happen to the voiceless children involved. I felt, and still feel powerless. I am watching a train wreck of lifelong consequences and I can do nothing to stop it. My kindness misinterpreted. My good intentions twisted into malice. I reached a painful conclusion today – some people refuse help. Unfortunately, when these people are parents, children are impacted.



And then I think of my own life and how I have rejected the helping hands of saviors and the Savior. I think of how I interpreted love as something to be feared – something painful to avoid. A part of me knew that I was only hurting myself, and yet fears of being vulnerable -- the fear of being exposed easily won the battle. I sabotaged hope and healing and instead chose to remain hidden, or at least deceive myself with the illusion of invisibility. Grace remained patient. Eventually I found the courage to face my truth. Eventually I came to know that being seen, being known was nothing to fear.

There is a part of me that would like to harden my heart. To allow anger to manifest and shout out, “There are some who cannot be redeemed!” But I cannot go there. I cannot believe that there are some beyond hope – that there are people for whom healing is not possible. The pragmatist in me votes for the death penalty. After all, why waste resources on the despicable. Why hope only to have it squashed time and time again. And there are those who will spend their entire lives avoiding hope and healing, for they must choose, out of their own volition, to come out of their darkness.

To the family I tried to help, I must let you go. I cannot force you to change. I cannot make you protect your children or help them feel safe. I can choose to love you, and that I will continue to do. While you try and hide your pain, I can still see it. I see your fear, your sense of helplessness, your angry wall of protection. I wish I could help you find truth – that it is possible to hope and find healing. I will continue to mourn for each of you. I will continue to hold hope for you that someday you may find peace – someday you will know that you can stop hiding.

In the meantime, I hold onto this hope with all my might for without it we have nothing. John, Paul, George, and Ringo, I hope you are right that all we need is love.