*this is the messiest and yet most transparent thing I have written to this point. I didn't edit but I think it might help somoene else to read it. I wrote it after a rough evening where my daughter and I were not understanding each other at all and as we tried to clean it up, it just kept getting worse. This is a small glimpse into Kennady's story and the battles she has faced, one day she will share the rest. It should be noted that Kennady has given permission for everything I shared here. Noah is much more private, so I have only mentioned him briefly, but he has definitely had to overcome his own struggles as well. This is our mess, turning into a message. I don't know if anyone else can relate, but I feel like as Christians we aren't often transparent enough with one another.... we need to share struggles because that makes the testimonies that much stonger. Jesus has walked through this battle we hare facing right along with us, and He will walk through yours too. He is the answer to it all...
This one is going to be a little different for me, as it's about the subject that is nearest and dearest to my heart, my kiddos. But currently I am sitting here alone while one of them is out with a friend and the other is on a long drive home after visiting his grandparents for the weekend. This is how evenings look more often now, time for me to contemplate life not being all about those kiddos anymore.
They aren't really kids anymore at all, one is 20 and one is 17 heading for 18 and her adulthood at lightning bolt speed. Such a difficult transition time for everyone, but particularly for a mom. Add to that that it has been just me and my two favorites for the last 18 years, before my sweet girl was even born, and it makes those boundaires and the "time to let go" a little extra blurry.
When my kids were little, being mommy was not the difficult part of the single mom life. I loved being a mom from the very first second, and it came so naturally to me. I adored my kids and am not exagerrating when I say spending time with them was a total joy to me. We laughed like crazy, went on all kinds of adventures, and loved each other whole heartedly.
But while being their mom was easy for me, that didn't mean life was easy for us. It was a super tumultuous situation with their dad, to say the least. I won't go in to details right now, because I want to respect my kids privacy and allow them the opportunity to tell their own stories. But what I can say is that this wasn't just your average divorce and shared custody situation. There were constant battles, financial struggles, intense hurts and emotional trauma.
My heart from day one was to raise my kids with one goal as the utmost important - to know and have a relationship with Jesus. He was a part of all we did, prayers were said about literally everything at our house, literally. If something was breaking down, or lost, or we were all just grouchy, we prayed. We prayed on the way to school every single day for years, everyone taking a turn. Those times were so special, as we would share what we were needing prayer for and be able to talk to each other about those needs. Our church was as much a part of our lives as school, work, home... we were there so often that they actually thought of our church as home and that was a wonderful thing. They napped on church pews, ate snacks during drama practices, and stayed up as late or later than most of the teenagers at all-nighters. Well, that last part was mostly Kennady, Noah happily fell asleep wherever we were and no matter who was there. But not Kennady, she was up laughing, dancing and playing with everyone all of the time. And she loved it. Our church family helped support us through some of the most difficult battles of our life. They also celebrated fabulous moments with us, and loved and bragged on my kids right along with me. When you are a single parent and your kid does something great, like gets good grades, or learns to ride a bike, or even simply looked really cute that day, you need someone else to get excited with you. Between my family and our church fam, my kids had lots of people to love on them and go completely berserk that they could now write their name or read a book, or whatever the newest thing was.
Life was good. Life was extremely hard, but life was good. Unfortunatley, the enemy sets a target on our kids, he doesn't play fair and has no problem doing all he can to destroy God's people, particularly this newer generation rising up, and even more particularly those who are called and serving Jesus. He hates them, and he attacks.
I knew my kids were struggling, and I was aware of how the enemy works, but I had no idea the level of intensity their battles would become. I prayed every day for these two little loves of mine. Prayed for their protection and innocence and for their hearts to be guarded. I prayed with silent tears and simply sat before God on several occasions when I just knew that things were harder than usual. The church where I raised my kids is also where I had the opportunity to be on staff. Once my kids were teens and life kept getting harder, I literally soaked that sanctuary with my tears before God on their behalf, not always knowing why my heart felt so heavy for them but knowing that something wasn't right and that while they were at their father's home, my trust had to be placed completely in the Lord for them. It was a tough lesson, giving all of that worry to God. But I learned to pray because of it. I learned that God heard my sobs as much as He heard words. That He understands anger and frustration and fear and can take them from you and give you peace even in the midst of a bad situation.
Noah was able to stop going to his Dad's at 16, but Kennady still continued to go. Again, I can't share their stories right now, but with her permission I will just say that she had to literally live in two completely opposite worlds, literally walking from one side of a spiritual stand to another. During that same time period, a horrible incident happened and she was attacked and suffered from an extreme trauma, but told no one for two years, Abuse was repeated, and she began to get lost under the weight of all that was happening to her. Last February, our world seemed to come crashing down when she hit rock bottom and wanted desperatley to die and be out from under all that had been happening to her as she had kept trying to keep it silent, and find her own ways to cover such extreme pain.
That was the worst time of my life up to this date. My sweet daughter with the laugh that goes on forever, or at least unitl she snorts and starts over again, the baby that cooed and smiled at anyone and everyone, the teenager who when worshipping her God would get lost in Him and you could glimpse her receiving his peace if even for just those moments at his feet, the adventurous one who walked straight onto her first flight ever to travel across the world and go to dance in France, this girl so full of life, actually wanted to die, was trying to find ways to end her life. Thankfully, God had other plans and intervened, and we were able to get help for her hurt. She did the hard work, does it every day, fought to get out from under the trauma and makes a daily choice to not be defined by the abuse happened to her but rather by the purpose God has FOR her. It's been a long battle, and stilll situations arise that she has to navigate and continue to heal from. This kind of trauma affects every area of her life.
But it also affects a mommy, every area of my life. I have always had my own hopes and dreams for what my daughter's life would look like. Every parent knows that those hopes and dreams have to be replaced by their child's own hopes and dreams, but never do you think they will be walked all over, trampled, by evil. I wanted nothing more than her life with Jesus to be full of joy, adventure, love and purpose, I wanted her to be safe and feel secure and be able to embrace life completely without fear.
I can not put into words what happened in my heart when I learned the truth of what she had been living with, of the dark, dark places she had walked through alone. I hated more than I have ever hated. I hated anyone who ever laid a hand on her, anyone who thoguht they had a right to even look at her, I hated evey abuser that ever walked actually. I hated the person who so warped her view of herself and what young women were supposed to be, who stole any idea of innocence from her. I hated those who didn't understand and were harsh and cruel with their insensitivity and judgements. I hated so much, but above all I hated myself. I hated that I had not prtoected her, that I had not known, how could I not have known? I hated every time I had had conversations with her about other, insignificant things, when such huge things were going on in her world. I hated that I had thought I was such a good mom, when I had failed her so greatly. I hated to even think about all of the times I had been living in some sort of lie while the truth was so terribly ugly and I just didn't see it. I even hated that I had felt like "something was off" but wasn't wise enough to get what was really happening. At one point I hated myself for even having a daughter, to allow her to be in the world and hurt so badly.
The pain was so great that I literally could not stand under the pressure. Thankfully, Kennady didn't have to see the depth of this despair because she was, at the time, in an inpatient counsleing program getting help from those who could help her much more than I could. She would have thought she caused the pain, and taken that blame on her self. But it wasn't her at all, it was the evil that dared to fall upon MY little girl. And I didn't stop it. I felt like it was my fault for having her, for not protecting her, for not being aware, and for not being a strong enough Christian to have my prayers answered. Just being honest, that's where I was at.
I knew logically all of the things I needed to know: I did not cause this, someone else did. I could not know what I didn't know. Evil does not fight fair, and I could not have known what was coming. I also know that God WAS with her, and the reason she is alive is because he DID protect her, kept her from anything else. I know that he allowed all of this for a purpose, which was my original hope for her, for that purpose filled life with her and God on a grand adventure. I know it's coming still, but let me tell you it takes work to get this all in my heart. It's a daily struggle.
And now, I am supposed to know how to let her go. After seeing her so broken, unable to be in the dark or in a room alone... not able to sleep more than an hour at a time and walking through that hell with her... I have to let go because she is growing up. She thinks I don't want her too, she thinks I am scared. She is partially right I am scared, scared I won't be there for her again like I wasn't before, even though I wanted too. I was told all of these areas by the counselors where she will need guidance and areas where we have to let her figure it out. Areas she needs extra protection and areas she needs freedom. areas where hurtful relationships have left her ill equipped to maneuver through healthy ones and I want so much for her to have healthy relationships because, well, everyone should know how fabulous she truly is and not see the walls that are there for self protection. I want the world to know the beauty that is Kennady, because she is such a treasure. Most of the advice was vague and I have to guess at when to be mommy and when to let go. I have to keep giving my fear to the Lord. Its so hard. I know I drive her crazy, but its like having your heart ripped apart, trampled on, and then being asked to lay it down even while it is still recovering, and know that it could happen again and you won't be able to stop it. So you try and give every assistance you can. You try to advise, protect, love, support, back off, shut up, speak up, all at the same time. I fail every day. BUT I show up every day. Because she is worth it. She is worth every tear and every ounce of pain. I love being her mom, never wanted to be anything more. I just have to learn how to be her mom after walking though hell with her and then letting her go forward without me, not knowing if there is another hell she will have to go through again, I just cant stand the thought of that. So when I see even a small glimpse of smoke, a smell of fire, I try to ward it off, do what I can. Someitmes I over react and pull out a fire extinguisher when a little puff of air would suffice. But I am learning, and it's not the easiest lesson to learn. It takes time, for both of us, as we maneuver through this new area of our journey.
But one thing she is wrong about, I do want her to grow. I want every good and wonderful thing for her. I want life and adventure and joy and love. I couldn't be more proud. She is one of the most resilient people I know, she is brave and she is courageous and she is loyal and she is fierce. She is so much... so much life and I am totally going to love seeing this new stage for her unfold. I just want it to be good. I want it to be centered around the one area of our lives that has always been central and always been constant - Jesus. Because then I know the adventures will be grand and as I let go of her hand, He will continue to hold it. He is the one who was truly holding it through it all anyway...
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