The Silent Ones

We are a community of mothers who love our children powerfully and passionately. Who want and dream and envision only the best for them and their future.  And together, when we see first-hand how difficult this job of parenting can sometimes be, we stick together.  We are a tribe of warrior mamas who defend each other in the fiercest battles.  Sisters who support one another with practical resources during the most difficult seasons.  Kindred spirits who refuse to let another one fall.  We encourage one another, as often as necessary, to keep pressing on. 

Some of us have children with chronic or life-threatening health issues. The ones whose children are facing such a terrifying medical diagnosis, that we know, intuitively, that there is no way we can do this by ourselves.  And when we openly ask our community of mothers for help, the response is almost always immediate and powerful.  Neighbors bring meals.  Church leaders and family members gather to pray.  Friends wear the special t-shirt that symbolizes their esprit de corps . . . their camaraderie.  Mothers who are further along in the journey, those of us who have traveled this way before, share our experiences and hard-earned wisdom, extending a hand up to those of us who are just starting out.  We are reminded in so many ways that we are not alone.

Some of us call ourselves the lucky ones, the mamas of children with genetic disorders or developmental delays or heart defects. The ones who have the incomparable privilege of watching God’s plan unfold in unexpected and miraculous ways. (1)

Some of us have intentionally chosen the hard and rocky path.  We have stepped into the brokenness of foster care and adoption, opening our arms and our homes to welcome children who have been traumatized, neglected, abused, forgotten. Children with immense emotional and behavioral challenges that wreak havoc in our families.  

At the beginning, we were excited about where this journey would take us, knowing that we, too, were the lucky ones.  We just knew that we would have the incomparable privilege of watching God’s plan unfold in unexpected and miraculous ways. But now, years later, our blog posts have become fewer and fewer.  Our posts and pictures on social media are pretty much non-existent.  Once upon a time we were the most vocal, the most passionate, the biggest advocates for orphaned and vulnerable children!  But now?  Now we have become the silent ones.

We are the ones who lie awake at night, wondering how to address the stealing, the lying, the disrespect, the defiance.  Wondering how we can possibly connect with our broken children and reach their hearts.  We live each day, each moment, with chaos and unpredictability.  One minute we are all in the kitchen, laughing and getting ready for dinner, and the next minute . . . a trivial comment, a playful look, a perceived insult.  We witness our children’s transformation into aggression, an outrage so violent that they leave holes in our walls, bruises on our arms, the echoes of ugly cuss words hanging in the air. (2)  We are left with broken lamps and bedding that has been ripped into shreds.  We have other children, the innocent bystanders, who know, without anyone telling them, when they need to go to a safe space until the storm subsides. (3) And we wonder, what just happened?

When our children believe that food is their enemy, we watch them waste away to a dangerously low weight.  When their deep brokenness hurts beyond their ability to bear, we are the ones who notice the crisscrossed lines that disfigure their arms and legs, visible expressions of their desire to harm themselves.  To feel something, anything, other than the pain that torments their heart.

We are the ones who find their notes, the texts, the Instagram posts, the journal entries – all filled with dark words of hopelessness and despair.  There are some mornings when the dark clouds of depression or the paralyzing weight of anxiety descend so powerfully over them, that they are unable to get out of bed or leave their bedroom.  And there are some mornings we fear opening their bedroom door at all, not knowing what we will find.  And we have no idea how to help them.

Our life is full and overflowing with professionals who know our first names . . . social workers, therapists, psychiatrists, school principals, guidance counselors, youth pastors.  As a last resort, when the chaos escalates to a point of no return, when the safety of our child and everyone in our home is in jeopardy, we are ones who pick up the phone and call the police.  The ones who stand there helplessly, devastated, while our child is taken away to a psychiatric hospital or long-term residential facility.  No one will ever see that on the list for Wednesday night’s prayer meeting! 

We are the mamas who are horrified to see our sweet babies, now all grown up, become bound by the heavy chains of addiction, sexual promiscuity, unplanned pregnancies, homelessness, incarceration, abusive relationships, incredibly dangerous and self-destructive choices . . . returning to the very streets, the very lifestyles that we had hoped, by adopting them, that they would be rescued from.  Some of us have not seen our grown children for months, years even, and do not know where they are.  Or if we will ever see them again.  Or if they are still alive.

Unlike those of us who are frightened by our child's physical illness or injury.  Unlike those of us who are grieving our child's life-threatening diagnosis. Unlike those of us who are weary, caring for our child with the genetic disorder or the developmental delays or the visible disabilities.

We are the mamas who say nothing.  No updates to friends and family.  No pleas for help.  No requests for prayer.  No appeal for encouragement or wisdom.  No special t-shirt that symbolizes solidarity. (4)  No, we are the silent ones.

Why do we retreat into our private space?  Perhaps because we want to protect our child’s reputation.  (5)  Or maybe it’s because we can’t imagine how anyone else could possibly understand the challenges we are facing.  Even if such a thing existed, who wants to be a member of the My Child has a Mental Illness! club?! (6)  If we say something, if we even hint at how insanely difficult this is, what will be people say?  After all, this is the path we chose!! (7)

Or it could be that we are filled with shame that we have failed.  Crashed and burned.  Once upon a time we had been so optimistic.  Our heart’s desire has always been to obey God’s command to care for the orphans.  To open our home to a child in need.  To make a difference in his or her life.  But clearly, despite our best efforts and our excellent intentions, we did not make a difference.  Not one bit of difference at all.  Clearly our very best parenting abilities have proven to be woefully inadequate.

Most likely, though, we don’t speak because we simply can’t.  We have no words.  When we feel like we are drowning, when the water is so deep and we are in way over our heads, we are no longer able to utter the one word that could possibly save us: Help!

It is here, in our silence, when we retreat into our private space, that we face our brokenness, our most desperate, most powerless season, completely isolated and alone.  We bear the weight of an impossible burden, all by ourselves.

This is tragic!  We need to be reminded that we are not forsaken.  Despite how solitary and desolate we may feel, we have not been abandoned!  We are a community of mothers.  A tribe of warrior mamas.  Sisters. Kindred spirits. Right on the other side of the email, on the other side of the text, on the other side of the smiling face on social media.  Right in the next pew.  Right on the other side of the proverbial backyard fence are those of us who are on a similar journey.  

And there are those of us who are further along on the journey, and as unbelievable as it may seem, we have survived through it.  Those of us who have made it safely to the other side and are somehow able to still breathe, to lift our heads and to tell the story.

Tell the story we must!  We overcome by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of our testimony (Revelations 12:11).  By speaking.  By telling the story of God’s faithfulness and goodness and never-ending, never-tiring, never diminishing love.  By describing the times when we were brokenhearted beyond enduring, and how the Lord kept his promise to be close to us. (Psalm 34:18)

We encourage each other, reminding each other that this is not our fault.  When Jesus saw the man who was blind from birth, the disciples wanted to know.  We are all tempted to ask the same question: Who sinned, this man or his parents?    Whose fault is it?  Is it our fault?  It is our children’s fault?  Is it because of their birthparents or the broken system or the lack of resources or not enough research or our friends who don’t understand or the apathy of the church?  What if it isn’t anyone’s fault?  Can we just breathe in Jesus’ answer, soaking in the truth of it:  This happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.(John 9:1-3)

We need to remind each other to believe.  To believe, again and again, that nothing, not even the most impossible, is too difficult for Him!  (Matthew 17:20)  Instead of becoming hopelessly paralyzed with fear in the middle of difficult, insurmountable circumstances, we need to be courageous.  Excited, even!  When there is absolutely nothing we or anyone else can do in the middle of an impossible situation, it just may mean that God is getting ready to do what only God can do. It just may mean that the miraculous is about to happen!  

And when the impossible does happen, when our children’s lives are transformed, when God takes what is broken and makes something truly beautiful, it will be only God who receives all the glory for it!  It will be His works on full display!  Oh, how our hearts will overflow with praise!  We will then proclaim His righteous deed, His alone!  (Psalm 71:16)

Why would we be silent about that?!  

We are a community of mothers.  A tribe, sisters, kindred spirits.  We are the ones who pray, the ones who come alongside and support and help. The ones who are all on this journey together, encouraging one another to press on.  To never stop loving. (8)  And yes, we are the ones who are singing His praises together! Celebrating what only He can do!  To God be the glory, great things He hath done!!

We are just regular mamas.  Jars of clay. We are hard pressed, perplexed, persecuted, and struck down.  We are the brokenhearted ones.  The wounded ones.

But that is only half of the story.  We can say, with confidence, We are not crushed!  We do not despair!  We are not abandoned!  We are not destroyed!  (2 Corinthians 4:7-9)  No, we hold within our little jars of clay, within our simple, ordinary lives, a treasure. God’s power on display!  We are the ones who have the incomparable privilege of watching God’s plan unfold in unexpected and miraculous ways.

We are the brave ones. The lucky ones.  The chosen ones.  The believing ones.

Let us never be the silent ones.

1.  The Lucky Few by Heather Avis

2.  It has a name!  In the year 2015/16, there were over 10,000 cases of Child to Parent Violence (CPV) reported in the UK.  The UK has recently drafted a new bill to address domestic violence, and for the first time in history, specifically includes CPV. www.theguardian.com/society/2018/dec/09/what-happens-when-your-child-becomes-violent-with-you

3.  This is what one of our many storms has looked like. https://psalm1139mama.blogspot.com/2015/08/the-storm.html

4.  Perhaps, when a brave mama steps into the frightening, messy, unknown world of orphan care, we could give her, as a symbol, a Friendship Bracelet.  This will remind her, and all of us who wear them, that we are not alone.

In fact, my two best friends and I each have a bullet cartridge that we wear on a necklace, an ever-present reminder that we are Warrior Mamas, fighting together in a battle that has already been won.

5.  Of course we should protect our children’s reputation.  It is their story to tell, not ours.  But that doesn’t mean we should retreat, isolated and alone.  We have our own story to tell!  And a community of mamas that need to hear it!

6.  Children’s exposure to traumatic events can have long-term effects on their physical and mental development, known as Complex Trauma. These children are often diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD), sensory processing disorder, ADHD, oppositional defiant disorder, bi-polar, personality disorders, PTSD, cognitive impairment, learning disabilities, and more!   www.nctsn.org/what-is-child-trauma/trauma-types/complex-trauma

7.  Yes, this is the life we chose, but that doesn’t mean we should be forced to walk it alone.  https://psalm1139mama.blogspot.com/2016/02/say-word.html

8.  When there is not one thing we can do to rescue our child, we can still love.  Love never fails!!  http://psalm1139mama.blogspot.com/2017/07/love-never-fails.html