Fear

I feel like I am stuck in a place of sin, only I don't know if that's what it really is.

But so much fear, so much anxiety has pricked my soul lately. I don't know if it's because I've been steeped in Ferguson, or if it's just hormones, but I feel overwhelmed at times with worry about my boys and their future.

This weekend the boys had a scheduled overnight visit with their paternal aunt. She's a safe family member, and she loves the boys very much. Normally, this weekend would've felt like a welcomed break; a short hiatus from parenting. A time to get things done around the house, relax, and spend some alone time with Rocky.

Instead, I was fraught with anxiety. So much so that my mind wouldn't stop racing and I was on the verge of tears.

You see, this aunt is the sister to my boys' dad. He is in jail. She has been visiting him (as a loving sister would), and she shared with me his desire to fight for his kids in the upcoming status hearing for paternal rights. She said he is in a better frame of mind now, and wants to be a dad.

And I was angry.

And scared.

Mostly scared.

Because you see, I want him to fight for his kids. I want him to want to be a dad. I want him to get his life together so that he has something to offer these boys.

But my heart said, What if? What if he fights and he wins?

Dear God, please forgive me. Shouldn't I want that? Haven't I said before that I want that? That I believe that God's redemptive plan for these boys carries over to their families? Of course I have said that, and I still mean it. I want to see healing, and reconciliation and beauty for ashes.

But these boys.

They run to me when they get home. They climb me like I'm a jungle gym. They tell me they love me so much, that I'm their favorite mom and their best friend.

And I believe the lie that they're mine.

But they're not. They're His. And so are their parents. We all belong to Him, and to each other. And I need help, and courage, and strength to turn this anxiety into righteous prayer and confession. I need the unreserved faith to say, but God, Your will be done.

I need help.

School starts in two weeks, and a month later a judge will make a very important decision that will affect all of our lives forever. And we are desperate to know, and hollow with the sadness that no matter what the answer, hearts will be broken, families will be shattered. There is no comfort in any of it, except for the comfort of knowing. Knowing which direction to walk, even though each road will be paved with tears.

It's all too much to think about, and I don't trust my selfish heart to know what's best.

So God, Your will be done.