Here is a confession. The date on this post is going to say May 24, 2020 because I like to keep things nice and tidy, but the truth is that I am writing this on November 13, 2020. Partly because I've been busy, but mostly because I honestly haven't known what to say. Also because I am so far behind on updating, your 14 year old letter was one of the last posts. As I read through that letter to you... so full of hope and excitement for your upcoming journey into high school... a little trepidation, sure... but positive you were beginning the best years of your life, and when I reflect back on the last year I feel, honestly so sad.
The last year has taken the breath out of all of us. I'm certainly not going to hash it all out here in this letter that I want you to cherish for the rest of your life. But, you will remember what I mean when I say the last year has been rough. On you. On me. On your dad. On your sisters. On our family. Rough. And it is not because of the pandemic- although that has not helped. You have been treading through some dark waters. Some of them your choices, some of them beyond your control. We have tried to tread beside you. Honestly, I've tried to wrap my arm around your neck and haul you to shore... but in all honesty, I think it has just caused us both to slip further into the water. So, today, I saw this devotional. And finally, I felt like I knew what to say....
"I would have pulled Joseph out. Out of that pit. Out of that prison. Out of that pain. I would have cheated nations out of the one God would use to deliver them from famine.
I would have pulled David out. Out of Saul's spear-throwing presence. Out of the caves he hid away in. Out of the pain of rejection. I would have cheated Israel out of a God-fearing king.
I would have pulled Esther out. Out of being snatched from her only family. Out of being placed in a position she never asked for. Out of the path of a vicious, power-hungry foe. I would have cheated a people out of the woman God would use to save their very lives.
I would have pulled Jesus off. Off of the cross. Off of the road that led to suffering and pain. Off of the path that would mean nakedness and beatings, nails and thorns. I would have cheated the entire world out of a Savior. Out of salvation. Out of an eternity filled with no more suffering and no more pain.
And oh friend (my son). I want to pull you out. I want to change your path. I want to stop your pain. But right now I know I would be wrong. I would be out of line. I would be cheating you and cheating the world out of so much good. Because God knows. He knows the good this pain will produce. He knows the beauty this hardship will grow. He's watching over you and keeping you even in the midst of this. He's promising you that you can trust Him. Even when it feels like more than you can bear.
So instead of trying to pull you out, I'm lifting you up. I'm kneeling before the Father and I'm asking Him to give you strength. To give you hope. I'm asking Him to protect you and to move you when the time is right. I'm asking Him to help you stay prayerful and discerning. I'm asking Him how I can best love you, and be a help to you. I'm believing He's going to use your life in powerful and beautiful ways. Ways that will leave your heart grateful and humbly thankful for this road you've been on."
-Kimberly Henderson Proverbs 31 Ministries
Evan, it is still honestly hard to find words to talk about this last year. I've been so afraid, so sad, so worried. And I know that what you have been going through has likely been just as bad if not worse. I have wanted to pull you out, so much. I have tried to pull you out in all the ways I think it should happen. I have reasoned. I have punished. I have yelled. I have cried. I have begged. I have threatened. I have agonized over what to do, how to parent. I have felt so alone. I have felt like such a failure. I have been embarrassed, ashamed. I have felt like I was watching you slip away. Watching a beautiful, promising future slip away. And everything I did, every decision I made, every word I said, sometimes even the breath I breathed seemed to be wrong and to make it worse. So very worse. This devotional hit home so hard because... honestly... now I understand what I've been doing wrong. I can't pull you out. I am going to have to lift you up. Don't get me wrong, I've prayed.. oh how I've prayed this past year... but I don't think I've been praying in the right way.
We've had a good week this week. You seem to be edging toward the light. Beginning to swim all on your own. I am going to stop trying to drag you and instead I'm going to swim beside you. When you need it, I'll give a helping hand... if you ask for it. I'll make sure you have a life vest... if you'll take it. But, I understand now that this is your journey and something you have to figure out on your own. It may not happen the way I want it to. It may not have the outcome I want it to. I will accept that.
And I will pray that God will give you strength, give you hope. I'm asking Him to protect you, begging him to protect you. I'm asking Him to move you when the time is right. I'm asking Him to help you stay close to Him... not to drift too far away. To stay discerning. And most of all, I'm praying for Him to show me how best to love you and to be a help to you. And I pray that someday we will both look back on this time and see the beauty in the ashes.
I do trust Him. I trust in His word and in His promise. The promise I quoted for you last year... my favorite verse... is still true now. I know He will give you hope and a future. I love you so much, Evan. I hope someday you will understand how very much I love you and how scary that love can be sometimes as a parent. How fierce and and how all-consuming and how absolutely terrifying.
That love causes a parent to feel the most unignorable desire to pull you out. Pull you out of the crib when you cry for us. Pull you into our arms when you are hurt. Pull you away from danger. Pull you out of a painful situation. Pull you away from failure and heartbreak. We hold tight to your hand so that we can pull you at a moment's notice when you are little. When you start to let go of our hand, we hold tight in other ways.... until the day when you are beyond our grasp. We can no longer pull and the truth is, we probably should have not been pulling all those times... so please forgive me. Forgive me for hurtful words that may have been said, for trying to help but only making it worse. Forgive me for all the mistakes I have made and please believe me when I say they have been made out of love. No more pulling... only lifting from here on out. I promise you I will do my best to only lift and to be there for you, to go through it with you because I understand that may still be hard times to come.
I love you, Evan. Happy birthday, buddy!
Love,
Mom
