She Chose Life

Her mother chose life. Maybe you saw her outside the abortion clinic the morning she almost didn't. Maybe you were the one who convinced her that she wasn't alone. That the baby she was carrying was a life. Had a heartbeat. Had a purpose. Was loved. Maybe you promised to always be available if she needed support. Maybe you even meant it.

She had her baby, but her life was hard and she was trapped. Her boyfriend was abusive. Into drugs. And she found herself addicted, as well....

At first, she was still able to care for her child, but over time, she sunk further and further into darkness. The child's teachers suspected something was wrong and finally, one of them filed a report. The state showed up and took the child. Put her in a foster home. Over the next several years, she lived in many different foster homes, never really knowing what she had done wrong and why she couldn't live with the only mother she had ever known. The mother who had chosen to give her life, but had somehow given up on her own.

When her mother died from a drug overdose, she realized she would never go back home. She felt as though she would never have a family. And with 20,000 children aging out of the foster system every year, chances are, she may not.

Where are you now? The one who promised to always be there. The one who advocated for her life. Are you coming to her rescue? Because she needs you. She needs you. She needs a family. She needs to know she is loved. You promised to be there..... Are you holding true to that promise?

To be pro-life is more than just holding signs and asking broken women to give birth. To be pro-life should mean that you advocate not just for birth, but that you support life. And that you are willing to provide a child with a life when others cannot.

God didn't say pure religion was holding signs and picketing abortion clinics. He said that "pure religion is this: caring after widows and orphans in their distress....." (James 1:27)

She chose life when it was easier not to. Are you willing now to provide a life when it's easier not to? To choose to hold true to your promise and act on what God accepts as pure religion? Half a million children in the foster care system right now are counting on you.

Boxes

I jokingly (or maybe not so jokingly) refer to my 11 year old as a trash hoarder.

 

She sifts through the recycling bin every time I throw something away, looking for “treasures”.

 

It’s trash. Which is why I’ve thrown it away.

 

But she collects piles of boxes of all shapes and sizes, toilet paper and paper towel rolls, cans, bottles, and probably a host of other items she strategically hides from me so I won’t know she’s taken them.

 

And when given an opportunity to go to the store to spend her allowance money, she buys things like duct tape. And wire. And yarn.

 

I’ve been a single mom for over 15 years now, guys. And I’ve worked my tail off to get to where I am today. And I continue to work my tail off because I have goals to reach that are even beyond where I am today. And when I reach those goals, I’ll set more goals. Because I think it’s important to never stop challenging yourself. But that’s for another post.

 

For now, I just need to frame my mindset for you guys.

 

Once upon a time, boxes comprised much of my furniture. Boxes became end tables, dining tables, storage for my clothing… you get the idea. The little bit of furniture I did have was mostly bought at thrift stores or garage sales, or was handed down from family members.

 

I remember the first pieces of new furniture I did buy. It was a small table and chair set for my tiny apartment’s eat-in kitchen. It was one of those build-it-yourself things that I got at K-Mart on a clearance end cap for $35.00. It was a really big deal.

 

And over the years, I continued to work my way up, to the point where I am now nearly completely out of debt (except for that pesky student loan I’m still hacking away at). I can afford somewhat nicer things. And I’ve learned the art of saving and financial responsibility.

 

But you have to be careful when you set goals and work for those goals and eventually reach those goals, that you don’t let the goals become bigger than they should be. The end result is never supposed to just be about more stuff or nicer stuff or prettier stuff. The end result isn’t even as important as the process that takes you there. The process is about hard work, and growing, and learning, and making mistakes and learning again. It’s about developing character and maturity.

 

So I have to catch myself and bite my tongue and try hard not to cringe when my daughter’s beautifully decorated, color coordinated room is (in my mind) littered with boxes and toilet paper rolls and duct tape. Because this trash that she collects – she does turn it into treasures. They may not be the prettiest treasures at first glance, but, again, it’s the process that’s important, right??

 

She’s using her creativity, developing a plan, and working hard to see it through. She’s growing, and learning, and making mistakes and learning again.

 

And when I walk into her room and see that out of those boxes she’s built a three-level “castle” for the cat and a “garage” for her little brother’s cars, the boxes become so much more valuable than they were when I threw them away several days earlier.

 

And they might distract from the curtains I love so much or the color coordinated décor I worked so hard to get just right… and for a moment I might cringe at the clutter…

 

Because a room full of boxes used to represent to me hopelessness and failure and desperation. And a beautifully well-decorated, color coordinated room became the representation of success and happiness and purpose.

 

But it isn’t about the boxes, after all.

 

It’s about the process. The processes for each of us. And the value we choose to place on the boxes.

 

And these boxes…. These boxes hold in them so much more value than the curtains or the wall art or the bedding or the rugs. These boxes hold the creativity and the visions and the dreams and the goals of a little girl, who’s not quite so little anymore, and they reflect in their current state, not hopelessness and despair, but hope and promise and joy.