All of my life, this is what I wanted: to be a mother. To help the hurting children.
Nothing else is enough. Nothing else ever has been.
My dream was not in construction. It was not in motel work. It was not in work at all. It was in being a mother. All my adult years, I worked towards adoption, towards this goal.
There never was anything else for me than that, though I tried. I tried hard to move on, and still I hold on, for my children… for that dream that refuses to die.
What is there after this, when all has been taken away? How can I move forward, when that ache remains, and will not fade, despite my own battles against myself to find my worth in other things.
I do not fear death, for death is a welcome change to this – to this brokenness that fills the world around me.
Remain as I do for my remaining child, I still see no future here. There is nothing beyond today, for I cannot see to dream.
And the boy expresses his hope for the future – to help those that are hurting – and in it I hear my own words, coming from my own broken life.
Please, Lord, let his dreams come true. Do not take away from him the thing that he lives for, the thing that will heal his own pain – for if the pain can be of use… if only it can be used of God, in aid of others struggling too, perhaps it will be worth it.
But now, for me, here at the end… how can I look forward with hope, to a life void of dreams?
I pray. All of my life I’ve prayed: “Please make me a good mother, Lord.”
Yet that very thing that I wanted – I can’t say more than life, for life has never been something that I wanted to hold on to so much – that very dream that kept me moving forward through the darkness and pain, has been taken from me, and there is no more.
And I would work with those who broke me. I would do it all again, to have that dream back. To have my children in my life again – for is there any more?
To live for them is an idol, but I cannot live for me – on those days (and there are so many of them) when the pain is overwhelming, and I hate where I have come, I must have something beyond myself to live…
So live for God. But He does not need me. I am thankful that He chose me. I am grateful that He wants me. I would live for Him. I would die for Him. But he does not need me.
Since I was four or five years old – for as long as I can remember – this, this has been my dream, and it was stolen from me.
So if I can’t go back (but I must), and I have no dreams to carry me forward, how can you help me?
A future empty of children… empty of my children – is it really any future at all?