to be willing

I'm crafting a letter to my husband's classmate regarding the teenage pregnancy situation.  Honestly, I don't think any offer of help from us will be seriously considered.  Sheer obedience keeps me writing and rewriting the piece.  Part of me fears we'll be laughed at, or deemed crazy religious freaks (even though I haven't written anything spiritual, or controversial).

Many American families want to adopt--some of whom are wealthy and desperate to become parents.  They could offer to pay for medical treatment and other expenses, and we'll barely be able to afford diapers and formula.  (Could I take some hormone, and manage to nurse an adopted or foster baby?  I've heard of such things.)

Anyhow, after reading that my husband is working only part-time and attending school, the teenager and her mother are likely to think they could do better themselves.  And they probably could, financially speaking.

 If I'd been leaning on my own understanding, I would have quit after the first paragraph.  But somehow, I can't quit.  The thing must get written, and delivered to this girl-mom, and her mom.

I've thought of various reasons God might have for pushing me to get this done, such as:  The letter might arrive just as they are getting ready to go to an abortion clinic.  They might go back in the house, and rethink that.

Other little scenarios swirl around my head, but I'll spare you the details.

There's little time in my life right now to devote to anyone outside my family.

That statement makes sense, but I know it's true only when I'm the keeper of time.

Who should order our days--keep the time--really?

Not us.  HE who created time, should control every second, hour, minute.  Our greatest challenge as mothers is to make sure we're not ordering our own days.  As much as we like being in charge, it dilutes his impact and his message--for us, and for our children.  We end up less blessed, less peaceful, less effective, less loving.

So, yes, I do have time to get involved, if he wants it.  I do have time to disciple this fourteen-year-old girl, and teach her how to be a mother.  I would love to nurture her child, while she, a girl-mom, grows into adulthood.  An adoption situation would take her parental rights away, possibly leaving her with life-long regret. I want her to experience life-long gratitude for the gift of motherhood.

Mothers would universally agree that all children are blessings--whether conceived too young or too old, whether enjoyed in our midst for five minutes, or for sixty years.  Even conception itself is a blessing, whether our baby makes it to our arms or not.  Teenagers cannot fathom these things.  But those of us who hold these truths in our hearts can teach them, before it's too late.  Before a young momma or a young daddy make decisions--or have decisions made for them--that will bring sorrow forevermore.

I want to see God take a tragic situation, and make it beautiful.  I want him to move mountains.

I want to be an instrument.  How...I don't know.  To tell you the truth, I'm afraid of teenagers.  I was a very careful, dutiful teenager, never getting into trouble.  I'd be out of my league with a mainstream teenager in my midst.

But life is messy, I tell myself, regarding these fears.  To shield ourselves from another's messy pain, is to live a sterile, useless life.

I'm learning, through the challenges of motherhood, to embrace mess.  What comes out of orderliness, really?  It's too sterile.  To untouched.  Too fleeting--like the kitchen floor that never stays clean.

I'm not advocating the cessation of mopping--just that we throw out the notion that we've had a successful day if we've cleaned enough.  Better to think...we've had a successful day if we've paused enough, and invested ourselves in our children...in our unreached acquaintances.

After I became a Christian (age 31), I remember thinking, "I wish someone had invested a little bit of time in me, so that I could have known God earlier."

I recognize this as an ungrateful thought.  God did send people, but not until my late twenties.  Maybe he knows I wouldn't have listened, or received, earlier than that?  I don't know.

I'm grateful he changed me at all!  I've no right to take issue with the Almighty God, about when he decided to wake me up.

But still, I don't want another person--this young girl--to feel that same thing one day.  I want to be willing to invest my time in her heart, in her life, if she'll have me--all without upsetting her mother.

Could I help homeschool her (she attends public school now)?  Teach her to nurse her baby?  Take her in, so she is protected from further harm, while her mother works graveyard?  Or do I just offer to care for the baby--and later adopt the baby, should they desire that?  Could I be a daily or periodic babysitter, easing the stress on the girl-mom and her single mother?  Can our home be a spiritual catalyst, as she visits her baby and finishes school?

So many details.  So many questions.

To be willing.

God wants that from me, right now.  Not answers, or know-how.

Just willingness.