Rock Scramble Redemption
Hiking down a rock scramble on Labor Day Monday, Katya slipped and caught herself with her hands. No blood, no injury hat I could see, but a quivering chin and a tear rolling down her cheek. Kneeling beside her, I pulled my daughter into my lap, but rather than receiving comfort, she glared at me, pushed me away, and trudged down the mountain with her eyes glued to the path.
At the orphanage, she received no comfort, no protection, no band-aids. Mocked and teased by bigger kids, bolder kids she learned to get angry when hurt and bury the pain until the intensity dulled. She has the scars to prove it.
As I walk down the path in front of her I point out beauty, I go slowly, I look back and smile, I put my hand casually by my side so that if my daughter wants to take hold of it, it is readily available. She doesn't.
At moments like this, I'm praying. Not aloud, but very simply in my heart and mind and from the depths of my soul. For three simple things:
1. To not be offended.
2. To see her as God does.
3. To love her as God loves me.
My flesh wants to drag her in my lap, make her cry on my shoulder, peel open her hands, examine her palms for scrapes, and plant a few kisses. My flesh wants to say, "I'm trying to help you; now let me help you." But that wouldn't help; it would just hurt. Although she's been home nearly ten months now, at times the scar tissues tears away and the wounds from her orphanage years resurface.
But then, don't they for me? I can relate to my daughter when whispers from my orphanage years beckon. Although my adoption into the Father's family was several decades ago, at times, I still forget my sonship. So I have empathy for my daughter and I pray to see her as God does, to mother her the way that He mothers me, and I sing quietly for myself, for my daughter, and as a prayer as she trails me down the mountain.
You have redeemed my soul
From the pit of emptiness
You have redeemed my soul from death
You have redeemed my soul
From the pit of emptiness
You have redeemed my soul from death
I was a hungry child
I was a dried up river
I was a burned up forest
And no one could do anything for me
But you put food in my body
Water in my dry bed
And to my blackened branches
You brought the springtime beauty of new life
For nothing is impossible
For you
Now, you have redeemed my soul
From the pit of emptiness
From death
As we round the last bend, I feel a hand slip into mine. A smile is exchanged. No words are spoken aloud, but I thank God for redemption, Katya's and mine.
"I called on your name, O LORD, from the depths of the pit. You heard my plea: 'Do not close your ears to my cry for relief.'
You came near when I called you, and you said, 'Do not fear.'
O LORD, you took up my case; you redeemed my life." Lamentation 3:56-58