For some unexplainable reason, I seem to be packing a backlog of questions for God that I’m saving until I can see him face to face. I realize I can ask them now - but in the interest of time, perhaps it makes sense to wait until we have eternity to chat.
Of course, there are the big ones, such as “Where did you come from?” but there are others that I just really want answers for one day.
I often wonder if God wishes he had done things differently when he sees how we flounder. For instance, I don’t think I’m the only one confused by Israel the man and Israel the nation. Does he ever wish he had made that easier to keep straight?
Or there’s the armadillo. I’m dying to know; did he make that creature just for fun from leftover parts of other animals? The eyes of one, the ears of another, etc. Did he chuckle to himself when he decided to throw on an armored shell - and then, even better, make it jump three feet straight up in the air when it’s startled? And why not make it stink just to finish it off.
But there’s another question I ask all the time and hope to hear the answer one day. Why does he allow children to suffer? I wish I had an answer for that one.
For the past two decades, I have heard stories of gruesome trauma that are mind boggling. In fact, we had a graduation recently and all our amazing women shared portions of their personal stories, which included the impact on their children. It stood out to me that multiple testimonies included the death of a loved one, primarily from drug overdose, abuse from a partner, and neglect as children. But I was aware there were still other stories withheld that were too shocking to share in that setting. I looked across the room and imagined the facial expressions if those events had also been described.
So, I am not unfamiliar with stories of profound trauma. But if I were looking at a graph to measure the level of intensity, it would have spiked a couple of years ago and stayed at that heightened level ever since. I believe the isolation due to lengthy quarantine did significant damage to the social development of our children and created the perfect petri dish for abuse of all kinds to grow out of control. The kids most at risk had no outside eyes to protect them. Therefore some of the children we serve are showing up with extreme anger and behavior that is off the charts. It is not what we already expect. It is beyond that, in direct proportion to the trauma the children have endured, yet they have every right to feel the way they do.
Let’s take just one example. As a three-year-old, Nicholas saw his mother beaten countless times and even stabbed. He was abused by the same man and basically lived with Freddy Krueger, never knowing what was around the corner or in the dark. He didn’t live on the periphery of his mother’s chaos; he was in the middle of it for most of his little life and the details are horrendous.
But then Nicholas and his mother eventually come to Blue Monarch because she bravely decides to get help and build new lives for both of them. Nicholas, on the other hand, still views the world through eyes that see the ghost of Freddy Krueger. Imagine the conflict. He looks to his mother for comfort, but the very sight of her brings him back to the horrific trauma they endured together. He despises her and yet he loves her. He wants to trust his mother but fears she’s actually Freddy Krueger in disguise. “Is that really you, Mama?” He doesn’t know when the monster will reappear and sometimes can’t go to sleep without asking this question one last time before closing his eyes.
In the meantime, the slightest disappointment or aggravation sends Nicholas into an intense rage that extends way beyond the typical temper tantrum. He becomes vicious, violent, and strikes out at his mother or anyone who gets caught in the crossfire. He bites. He scratches. He destroys everything within reach. He thrashes and kicks. He yells as if he is in excruciating pain and the truth is, he is.
So, is there hope for this family? Remarkably, yes. But honestly, if they were not here in this environment with the support of our gifted staff, I really don’t know what would keep this child from landing in jail by the age of ten. Even the limited outside resources available to this boy illustrate how terribly unprepared our system is for a small child with teenage behavior.
The struggle for this mom is so great it is overwhelming just to watch. But she works as hard as she can to apply what she learns from our amazing parenting coach. Imagine the overload of emotions for her: regret, guilt, anger, frustration, hurt, embarrassment. The list goes on and on because she realizes her role in what has transpired and it often feels hopeless.
But still, with tears in her eyes, she wraps her son in a big bear hug, revealing the bloody bites and scratches up and down her arms, and patiently waits for the episode to end. She tells Nicholas he is safe, and that she loves him even though her heart is pierced from the ugly things he is saying and doing to her. Together they fight the devastating nightmare they share until they both collapse from exhaustion. Little by little, they take baby steps toward healing.
A few days ago, Nicholas’ mom came running into my office with a smile from ear to ear. She said, “I have something exciting to tell you! It occurred to me Nicholas isn’t too young to know Jesus, so I asked him if he wanted to invite Jesus into his heart and he said, ‘Yes Mama, I do!’ So I prayed with him and he did just that!” Her face lit up as if she had seen a light at the end of the tunnel for the very first time.
As I looked at this mother’s brand new smile, I knew we would be seeing great healing for this family - and it’s because she had reached for the one who knows better than anyone, the love for a child that is worth the pain.
Lord, thank you for this beautiful place where even the most wounded women and children can find healing and comfort in your arms. Amen
Update: Since Nicholas invited Jesus into his heart, he has not had another violent outburst toward his mom. After twenty years of God’s miracles, they still take my breath away every single time.
