“I’m just so tired of being homeless. I’m
tired of being needy. I want to buy a house so I can’t have a house taken away
from me. I want to have a car so I can get around. I want my children back! I
so want to live like a normal person!”
Desperation,
depression and frustration are what Mary shared with me tonight—a frustration
born of being once again in a situation she thought she had escaped. Frustration
from having trusted in someone else to take care of her who has now reneged on
that responsibility. Of once again being
in a place she could have to give up her baby in order to chase after an
elusive dream: a dream of living a normal life, of having a house of her own,
or being able to support her own family, have her children together, of living
without the nightmare that her very existence often is. Deep, dark sadness at knowing she has a son
she hasn’t seen since he was a toddler. Sadness at knowing that no matter how
hard she tries, her attempts to reunite her children seem to come to naught. Depression and a bit of shame at the trail of
broken relationships that mark her life. Desperation at trying to keep her baby—her
fifth child yet the only one living with her—feed her, cloth her, keep her
safe.
As Mary’s
friend, mentor, and honorary mom I hurt for her. I hurt because she’s a victim
of a mental illness that so far at least, God hasn’t healed. I hurt for her
because some of her wounds are self-inflicted. I hurt for her because she’s
living in a system that can’t seem to really help her: a system made up of agencies
that have one small part of the “fix” she needs in her life, but nothing to
bring solutions together under one roof—and in some cases they simply don’t
have the fixes. I hurt for her because she wasn’t born into a family who can
help her (although they do try.) I hurt
for her because the body of Christ doesn’t really want her either—she’s too
noisy, too obnoxious, too needy. I hurt
for her because, honestly, she’s a hard case. She’s self-centered,
self-absorbed, and totally wrapped up in what she needs, wants, even lusts
after. She can be dishonest. She can cheat, and yes, she lies sometimes. (She’s also funny, fun to be around, bright,
energetic, and well precious.)
Most of all
I hurt for her because I know she’s God’s precious creation. He made her. He
wrote every one of her days in His book. He aches for her, and works with her,
and time after time forgives her. He tries to encourage her, and is a
stronghold when the throes of another panic attack overwhelm her. He loves her,
disciplines her, and shows her mercy again and again and again. She is beautiful in His eyes—beautiful in a
way that no man will ever be able to see, really perfect in every single way!
She is His creation and He’s proud of her.
The kids and
I jokingly made up a song we entitled “What do you do with a problem like Mary?”
loosely patterned after the song in the Sound of Music with pretty much the
same name. We wish her problems were as easy to solve as Maria’s. . . and yet
they’re not. They’re much bigger, much
harder, and much, much more complex.
Would you pray
for me as I minister to Mary—and know that her problems are not unique in this
area we live in. It’s an area that was recently labeled the second poorest city
in the nation. (and the two counties that comprise our area of the world are
among the poorest counties in the country as well). What that means for Mary is that social
services are overused and over worked; ultimately that there are less services
than other places. I don’t have an answer to Mary’s problems (lots of ideas,
but no answers). But, I do know the One who does, and I know He cares just as
much as I do about her needs. Thanks for joining me in prayer! --Katrina
p.s. "Mary's" name has been changed to protect her privacy--but God does know who she is.
