A week ago I said goodbye, against my will, to my little shadow for the past three and a half months. A little girl, with a story so horrendous it would leave even the most attached-to-this-world person cry, "Lord, come soon."
Little Miss often acts like she is five years old, despite that being almost nine years ago. She reverts back because that is when her trauma began and when she was sold to support a drug habit. I have spent almost every day with this little one, from the time she awakes until we put her to bed, since May. Maybe that seems short, not when it's all day, every day. That little nugget that should have annoyed the heck out of me wiggled her way deep into my heart after only a couple days and she's been my shadow ever since.
Months fighting for this baby. Months battling what would be the easy solution (letting her have her way) to her outbreaks and sometimes violent temper tantrums, and choosing seven hour long battle sessions because ultimately it's better for her. So many Justin Beiber dance parties. So many "Miss Hannah, know what?....." "Miss Hannah, watch me!!" "Miss Hannah, I have a question....I forgot." So many hours spent doing her hair and listening to her stories and scratching her back while she cried and walking her through night terrors. So many nights spent up late praying and fighting and pouring out everything I have got to care best for that little bear. Watching gains made in her. Seeing the trust and relationship built and progress be made.
And in what felt like a snap judgement, she's gone. Sent away. And in the worst light it feels like we did to her what we spend our lives fighting against....one more person/organization that has promised they'd love her and care for her and fight for her who ended up sending her away and labeling her broken beyond repair and unfixable and too much. I got one more afternoon with her to myself. We listened to Beiber. We packed her things. We talked about Jesus and horses and football and laughed a lot. And then it was over. They came to pick her up. They were angry. She was scared. There was a lot of yelling, and I had to watch that sweet little girl drag her suitcase and climb into the truck surrounded by loud fighting and tension over her and her situation and having to once more care for her until another facility is found (update: it has been found, and the place looks like an awesome fit!). In the best light, it looks like choosing to care for the 8 over the 1. It looks like protecting the other girls and investing in them the time that was previously dominated by the little shadow.
Even in the best light it's confusing. Even in the best light it hurts. I held her and prayed before she left and cried harder than I have in my entire life as I watched her climb into that truck and drive away. And then I pulled it together, detached, and met my other 8 in town for dinner. I then promptly left the gas cap at the gas station, forgot my coffee drink after purchasing it, and let the girls listen to whatever they wanted on the stereo so they wouldn't fight. And then I tucked 8, not 9, into bed. And I filled out daily reports on 8, not 9. Never has a house of 8 teenage girls felt so empty.
It hurts because it mattered and it doesn't feel okay because it's not. And it's not supposed to be. This job is messy. These lives are messy. And God has called me to enter in here. And I do not understand it and I am not okay with it because I don't have to. I don't have to agree with the decisions made. I don't have to understand. I don't have to be okay with it.
What I do have to do is trust Jesus. Trust that He is bigger. Trust that He is in control. Trust that He is God over THIS too and good in THIS too. That He is able, willing, and working in her situation and the ranch. That His eye is on this little girl and that the heavens are battling for her too. And then I have to keep pouring out the heart He gave me to 8.
Maybe the hardest thing I've done to date. Maybe the sweetest night I've had loving Jesus through tears to date as well.
He gives and takes away. I don't understand, I don't have too. Blessed be His name.
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