I don't know if I can describe my emotion today as anything but heavy-of-heart. I'm generally and consistently a fairly jolly person, but this morning found me a bit downtrodden.
I saw a photo of a father-daughter dance this morning. It stung. I think it hit me for the first time that I'll never have one. My dad won't walk me down the aisle. He won't reminisce with me about that time he took me to the air show or played soccer with me. He won't talk to significant others or offer me fatherly wisdom. He won't squeeze me tight, kiss me on the forehead, and call me Kitten.
I also filled out my first CPS report last night. Sparing the details, it's just sad. Sad that the cycle of poverty and abuse exists. Sad that parents are so broken as to break their children as well. When I worked a week of TRU camp at Sky Ranch almost two years ago, I cried out to Jesus. I heard stories of the neglect and abuse of children that would break anybody's heart. With my own tragedy, I had come to terms that the Lord was good, that He had worked in it and through it beautifully, that He had indeed caused good to come from the worst of things for the good of one who loved Him. But these kids? These itty bitty children who were beaten, who had leapt in front of siblings to take THEIR beatings, who had been exposed to drugs and prostitution and harsh neglect? My heart GRIEVED, and for the first time in a long time, I turned a dubious eye to God. I asked, "Lord....I don't understand. How could you....how could you allow them to experience this? Where are you? Where is the justice?"
And then He spoke to me. He reminded me of my story, of how the death of my father led to me being discipled by some of the most godly men and women I know. He reminded me that if I had not lost my father, I would not have been at camp sharing His name and being His tool to impact lives ETERNALLY. I would not be in Youth Impact, living life with some of the most broken children I've ever met, filling out CPS forms to God-willing bring the justice to others. He reminded me that His plan is not my plan, that who is to say that He does not work the same miracle of transformation in the lives of these kids? And even if He does NOT, He reminded me, like Job, that I was not there when He formed the sea, the mountains, the stars, the galaxy, and that His hand is the breadth of the universe. So who am I to question HIM? He reminded me that He called His disciples to watch Him be tortured and to die on a cross, to spend three hopeless days to hear the greatest news that any human had ever heard or would ever hear again....that He had BEATEN death.
He also reminded me that He is the perfect Father. In a world where humans are deeply wounded, depraved, dark, and twisty, He is Abba. He squeezes us tight, longs to sit and talk Godly-wisdom despite our willingness to distract ourselves. He comforts not only through logic, but speaks truth to our SOUL. And I praise God that He is Abba and that He has given me an intensely loyal family and wonderful men and women that serve as solid examples of FIERCE God-seekers.
Things I'm Thankful For:
6. Godly men that father well. The two that leap to mind are Jason Stevenson, my youth pastor from 6th to 12th and Ryan Poehl, director of Youth Impact.
7. The sun silhouetting windblown leaves.
8. The cathartic moment you burst into tears.
9. Chik-Fil-A lemonade and the complex taste-bud/neural pathway sense of taste that God somehow created
10. The feeling of clean cool sheets on your skin.
11. Slow-circles rubbed on the back soothing away hurt.
12. Having to explain jokes to my madre.
Grace and peace,
Kate
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