The More I See

A week or so ago I ran across the name of a woman we knew while we worked at the girls’ home several years ago. She was the director of the counseling center on campus and did a good job at her profession. I was looking at something on the Internet and happened upon her name. Curious, I Googled her to see if I could find out where she was now and what she was doing, as I knew she was no longer at the girls’ home. (My spellchecker says “Googled” is not a word. I just now added it to the dictionary.)
I quickly found her. She was in the Wichita area and was the director of a maternity home not far from our church. I called the number and left a message. She returned the call a couple of days later and we made arrangements to meet.
A couple of days ago I went to the maternity home and we re-acquanted and visited for an hour or more about her work and the home. I was struck by some things she said.
Many women who come to the home are homeless. Many women who come to the home have some kind of addiction. Many women who come to the home already have one or more children. Many women who come to the home are part of a multi-generational string of such women. Many women who come to the home have no familial, church, or friend support system of any kind.
I quickly determined as I listened that I had absolutely no concept of living in the world that most of these women live in. I cannot fathom being homeless, pregnant, alone, on meth, with few positive societal life skills, and with three kids under the age of six. I found myself in much the same situation as I did several years ago when I confronted the reality of my niece’s eating disorder. I couldn’t relate to that…I cannot relate to this in any meaningful way.
As men are wont to do, I was running through my mind possible ways to “fix” the problem and immediately zoned in on breaking the cycle. I also quickly found out that the “fix” (or any fix, for that matter) isn’t nearly as easy or as black-and-white as it at first appears to be. I was, as I increasingly find myself, dumbfounded, stunned, and stumped. My friend, on the other hand said something to the effect that, “We love ‘em, provide for ‘em and model for them what life should be, and hope something sticks.” Bless you, Julie, for your love and perception.
We constantly hear thirty second sound bytes from presidential candidates, legislators, mayors, religious folks and others who spout fixes for problems such as this as if it’s blatantly obvious and simple to do. The truth is that women in the situation I’ve described above may well be in an intractable position and will never be released from it until they die regardless of the money, counseling, programs, and effort thrown their way.. And they have already assured society that it will have to deal with the situation for at least one more generation by having kids who are now growing up in this same world and will, in all likelihood, end up the same way.
The women who come to this home must agree to adopt the newborn out. The one saving grace in all of this is that the newborn will probably have the best chance possible to break out of the cycle of homelessness, poverty, and despair. Even those babies who have deficits due to Mom having smoked crack or used meth will have a better chance to succeed by being connected to a family who goes into the relationship with that baby with eyes open and decides still to love unconditionally.
The more I see, the less certain I am that I have answers. The more I see, the less I tend to believe anyone who says THEY have answers. The more I see, the more I perceive the brokenness of the creation and the desire of God to redeem it. The more I see, the more I understand that He expects me to be a part of that redemption process. The more I see, the more I can appreciate the overwhelming and all-encompassing work of the Eternal Son of God…redeeming even these pregnant moms…desiring the abundant life for both them and their offspring. Soli Deo Gloria