The other day Daughter was raging about something or other. I work hard at not reacting to her rages. I let them run their course, and then we talk about ways to avoid triggers and deal with emotions after she’s calmed down and become somewhat rational. I always assure her of my continuing love. I’m able to do this because I know the rages are not about me. I know that she spent the first couple of years of her life in a house of horrors, and that even though she may not have verbal memories of all that went on, she was deeply damaged. I also recognize that she may have brain damage from prenatal exposure to alcohol. Anyway, the other day when she was done raging and I assured her again of my love, she told me, and not for the first time, “You shouldn’t love me.”
I have heard variations on this a number of times. “I don’t deserve to be loved.” “You shouldn’t love me.” “I shouldn’t have a family.” Yet how could I not love her? I have loved her for 18 years, since she came for the weekend as a big eyed little girl who stood at the edge of the room watching everything that went on (hyper vigilance, though I didn’t know that then). I have made life decisions based on her needs. I have been less concerned about making moves that advance my career than about making moves that advanced her healing. She continues to argue with me about whether or not I should love her, and my love only grows. I can’t begin to describe the hateful things she has spewed at the height of her rages. I work very hard at not hearing or remembering them. Occasionally she will come up with a new phrase, and her therapist and I will chuckle over her creativity later.
Now don’t get me wrong, her rages do have an impact on me. I don’t hate her or want to get rid of her or give up on her, but I am exhausted. One of the things I realized early on, one of the things that keeps me going, is that I recognized that what happens in her rages and my continuing love and commitment to her is at the heart of the Gospel. We don’t deserve God’s love. Yet there is nothing we can do that can stop God from loving us. According to Luke 23:34, on the cross Jesus made a plea for the ones who were responsible for his death, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
There have been times when she was threatening to kill me, and she has had realistic plans. I have told my family and friends that even if she one day kills me; I do not for a minute regret adopting her. I would do it all over again, even knowing what I know now. Yes, there are times when I’m exhausted and wonder how I can possibly keep going. Even at those times, though, I can’t imagine life without her. I can’t even think about how empty my life would be if I weren’t sharing it with her.
Because of Daughter, I have this profound understanding of the Gospel and God’s love for us. I regularly remind people that our love is just an imperfect reflection of God’s perfect love. If I can love Daughter this much, in spite of all her challenges and the hatred she spews at me sometimes, how much more can God love me? This understanding informs my ministry. How can I remain angry at someone who God loves so much?
When Daughter is raging, I know that what she needs is for me to remain calm and present. She needs to know that I won’t abandon her. So, too, does the church. I strive to remain calm and present for them, as well. I don’t always live up to that, but that is certainly my goal.
That’s the beginning of my reflections on parenting and ministry. It was what I had originally intended to do when I started this blog. It wasn’t until Process prodded me that I did it. Thanks, Process.
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