Monday, August 12, 2013
Prayer for my dark night
Just as I took baby boy's brokenness into the sanctuary of my heart, so too does Christ take my brokenness into His Sacred Heart. Just as baby boy screamed panicked screams when I went out of his sight, so do I now scream for You. I held him there, in my heart, loving him. It wasn't until he exhaled and emptied himself of his apprehension that my love could help him. Just as You hold me in your Sacred Heart, Jesus, and wait for me to exhale and empty myself so you can fill me with the breath of your love. Forgive me for fighting Your love, for trying to do it all myself. I can do nothing without You, Jesus. Jesus, help me pray, "Jesus, I trust in you" with sincerity. Let me collapse into your arms already wrapped around me. Help me realize how weak I am, and that just like baby boy, I cannot do anything for myself. Take my brokenness, my anger, my frustration and with your love transform me into love. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen
I am NOT Job.
I was relieved to head home with baby boy. I gingerly placed his delicate little body in his car seat. He reached down and grabbed the stuffed caterpillar Cooper had given him. He held it up to me and smiled! It was the first self-prompted smile I had seen from him in the month I had known him. He knew he was going home. Home. What does that mean to him? Does he know who Cooper is? Does he remember? It has only been 5 days, but so much has happened. We came home to a very interesting "Welcome Home" sign handmade by Will. It
Over the next few weeks Casey and I got into a routine. We talked a few times a day. He was living his life "over there". I was living mine here. He wasn't interested in hearing about the baby's eyes filling up with life, or his incision healing. I was crushed. He tolerated my ramblings and ventings, but he was NOT invested. He was listening to appease me. I couldn't blame him. This little guy had stolen all of my attention those last weeks, and was now dominating our conversations. It hurt to have so much inside that I wouldn't say for fear that it would be met with passivity. It hurts to have your passions met with passivity. It hurts a lot. I couldn't help but feel rejected.
Then I got my Court Summons, and affidavit. I learned everything there was to know about baby boys past. It made me angry! For his protection I won't go anymore in depth than that. It was infuriating. Everything made sense now. All of his apprehensions were completely rational. He didn't trust me, because he had learned that caregivers couldn't be trusted. Who does that to a baby? He was lucky to be a live, and I was delighted that he was.
Court day came. I ventured alone to the court house, a heavy, windowless building with a single door entry that looks dwarfed by the concrete surrounding it. I parked in front of the jail, walked into this seemingly tiny door, and tried not to feel completely insignificant. After passing the inspections of the metal detector and security guards I climbed the stairs to the 4th floor. Black marble everywhere, and nothing else. No benches, no trash cans, nothing. Just a large, empty room covered in black marble. I stood in front of a door that said "enter quietly" for a while trying to decide if it opened to a court room or a waiting room, and feeling a bit like I did on the first day of second grade when my mom let me find my room, on my own (at my request). I felt myself shrink at the idea that I would enter a courtroom to pairs of eyes with crinkled brows trained on me. I wished Casey was here. I waited until someone else, braver than myself, passed through it. I entered to find a tribe of people there for the hearing, but none of them was his mom. The air felt stagnant, and the room was covered in a film of dirt, traces of the others who had waited here.
While I was waiting, I was approached about adopting him, legally if it came to that. Of course I would. The guardian et litum said he had talked to Casey before Casey left and Casey had also said yes. I was curious, but elated. I couldn't wait to tell Casey.
After 5 or 6 hours I headed home, and When Casey called I told him. He was not just angry. He felt violated. He was far away dealing with his aching for the boys and I. There were no extra rooms in his heart at the moment. This is when the rabbit hole opened up inside of me. The moment I realized that no matter what would happen, my heart would be broken unless Casey's opened up. Casey's wouldn't open until he came home, and that was months away, and months after the final answer on the adoption was due. I had already lost so much in these few weeks. This seemed like an impossible situation. If only he had been there to hold my had in the waiting room. If only he had been there to be my courage in court. Then he would understand. Then his heart would be open. But he wasn't there, and I couldn't muster a single atom of anger toward him in my entire body. It wasn't his fault.
How many months must I endure this slow breaking, this dark night? I didn't know what God had in store, but I was starting to think I was being asked to make impossible sacrifices. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Really, "I can do nothing without Christ" is more accurate, though no more of a consolation. I am weak and selfish. I want my way. I breathed the air into this life by giving it my own air. I have watched the emptiness inside of him fill with love of life. We have been brought together and that will never be undone. Even if he leaves, he will be forever a part of me that is fractured and broken. I will wonder about him, pray for him, worry about him, and miss him (somewhere deep inside of me a little voice reminds me that those feelings are inevitable because all children leave home). Why can't my husband just find the same investment in life. The same understanding that there is no higher calling in life than to breathe your air into another. The joy and peace my faith brought to me seem far from me now. I wonder at the aching inside of me, that won't go away with prayer or scripture, why?
The answers can come easily, "God is working on building your virtues...your faith... your humility". Knowledge, wisdom, understanding, and acceptance are not synonyms. This is a process, a very painful process. I will make it through, God's will be done (please). I am still angry. Angry that this process must take place when so much that I depend on is gone. I have read St. John of the Cross. I know that God calls us to depend only on him through circumstances exactly like this. I can't help to see this cross he has given me as Simon of Cyrene saw the Cross of Christ at first, as an unjust burden. Lord, help me to have a grateful heart. This anger brings me only darkness, and keeps me far from your peace. Amen.
Over the next few weeks Casey and I got into a routine. We talked a few times a day. He was living his life "over there". I was living mine here. He wasn't interested in hearing about the baby's eyes filling up with life, or his incision healing. I was crushed. He tolerated my ramblings and ventings, but he was NOT invested. He was listening to appease me. I couldn't blame him. This little guy had stolen all of my attention those last weeks, and was now dominating our conversations. It hurt to have so much inside that I wouldn't say for fear that it would be met with passivity. It hurts to have your passions met with passivity. It hurts a lot. I couldn't help but feel rejected.
Then I got my Court Summons, and affidavit. I learned everything there was to know about baby boys past. It made me angry! For his protection I won't go anymore in depth than that. It was infuriating. Everything made sense now. All of his apprehensions were completely rational. He didn't trust me, because he had learned that caregivers couldn't be trusted. Who does that to a baby? He was lucky to be a live, and I was delighted that he was.
Court day came. I ventured alone to the court house, a heavy, windowless building with a single door entry that looks dwarfed by the concrete surrounding it. I parked in front of the jail, walked into this seemingly tiny door, and tried not to feel completely insignificant. After passing the inspections of the metal detector and security guards I climbed the stairs to the 4th floor. Black marble everywhere, and nothing else. No benches, no trash cans, nothing. Just a large, empty room covered in black marble. I stood in front of a door that said "enter quietly" for a while trying to decide if it opened to a court room or a waiting room, and feeling a bit like I did on the first day of second grade when my mom let me find my room, on my own (at my request). I felt myself shrink at the idea that I would enter a courtroom to pairs of eyes with crinkled brows trained on me. I wished Casey was here. I waited until someone else, braver than myself, passed through it. I entered to find a tribe of people there for the hearing, but none of them was his mom. The air felt stagnant, and the room was covered in a film of dirt, traces of the others who had waited here.
While I was waiting, I was approached about adopting him, legally if it came to that. Of course I would. The guardian et litum said he had talked to Casey before Casey left and Casey had also said yes. I was curious, but elated. I couldn't wait to tell Casey.
After 5 or 6 hours I headed home, and When Casey called I told him. He was not just angry. He felt violated. He was far away dealing with his aching for the boys and I. There were no extra rooms in his heart at the moment. This is when the rabbit hole opened up inside of me. The moment I realized that no matter what would happen, my heart would be broken unless Casey's opened up. Casey's wouldn't open until he came home, and that was months away, and months after the final answer on the adoption was due. I had already lost so much in these few weeks. This seemed like an impossible situation. If only he had been there to hold my had in the waiting room. If only he had been there to be my courage in court. Then he would understand. Then his heart would be open. But he wasn't there, and I couldn't muster a single atom of anger toward him in my entire body. It wasn't his fault.
How many months must I endure this slow breaking, this dark night? I didn't know what God had in store, but I was starting to think I was being asked to make impossible sacrifices. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Really, "I can do nothing without Christ" is more accurate, though no more of a consolation. I am weak and selfish. I want my way. I breathed the air into this life by giving it my own air. I have watched the emptiness inside of him fill with love of life. We have been brought together and that will never be undone. Even if he leaves, he will be forever a part of me that is fractured and broken. I will wonder about him, pray for him, worry about him, and miss him (somewhere deep inside of me a little voice reminds me that those feelings are inevitable because all children leave home). Why can't my husband just find the same investment in life. The same understanding that there is no higher calling in life than to breathe your air into another. The joy and peace my faith brought to me seem far from me now. I wonder at the aching inside of me, that won't go away with prayer or scripture, why?
The answers can come easily, "God is working on building your virtues...your faith... your humility". Knowledge, wisdom, understanding, and acceptance are not synonyms. This is a process, a very painful process. I will make it through, God's will be done (please). I am still angry. Angry that this process must take place when so much that I depend on is gone. I have read St. John of the Cross. I know that God calls us to depend only on him through circumstances exactly like this. I can't help to see this cross he has given me as Simon of Cyrene saw the Cross of Christ at first, as an unjust burden. Lord, help me to have a grateful heart. This anger brings me only darkness, and keeps me far from your peace. Amen.
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