Seeing Costs

How much can a heart endure? After a front row seat to suffering I wonder. I'm listening to Brandon Heath's Give Me Your Eyes as I write this. Months ago, as I prayed for the eyes of Jesus to be transplanted into my heart, this song shaped me. Blurry stains began to stand out in sharp contrast; evil and blood transposed over blue skies and carelessness.

If I'd known then what I know now, that seeing costs, would I have asked for heavenly vision? Like a fever I caught, that got under my skin, God vision was more than I bargained for. My Mikey-boy and his Mama and sister, calling for grace. Could I let them in my life? Can I let them out?

Today, at my table, Mikey, an impish grin and jelly stains, worked so hard on his letters. What was a commitment for the year, to invite him in and teach him every week, is over. Finished. The serrated blade of loss cuts at my heart and I feel the love spill.

Tonight his Mama ran to my house afraid and hurting, a wild fury of tears and pain, a burst of terror through the front door. And it was done. Crying, praying, trembling, laughing, and crying again, we sat together. A promise, I won't loose you, and then she was gone.

I hope she's gone forever, a new life, a new chance, and still I'm sorry. No more standing in the in-between of our yards and faith, discovering Jesus. No more Mikey standing at the front door grinning, "Hey Mi(ss) Be(ck)!" No more Hello Kitty tattooed girls giggling and getting into trouble. And I wish I hadn't been too busy earlier this week, when I was cooking dinner, to draw with chalk in the driveway. I wish I'd said I love you one more time.

I trust I will see her again but it won't be the same and I'm sad, so very sad. Yet I'm hopeful. For months I've been watching a baby struggle to be born. Tonight she called out to Jesus for help. I believe he's faithful and will give her new life, spiritually and physically. I know the Father doesn't start good works merely to abandon them.

Now comes the pain of sorting through the future, of starting over. The pain of upheaval and uprooting. The pain of wounds healing, of letting go. Fresh tears come as I remember something Max told me tonight.
"Mikey asked me today if I was his brother."
"What did you say?
"I said no. But I think of you as a brother. That's why I call you bud."

I think of you as a brother. Eyes that see with a new vision. Dare I pray that my children see with the Father's heart? It will cost them. It cost him.

Seeing costs when we engage. I don't know what her boyfriend will do. He's scary. As I lift my eyes from typing this post the Names of God emblazoned over my door frames call out the reminder of our Great God. And I pray Jehovah Sabaoth fight for us, Jehovah Nissi spread your banner of victory over my dear friend, Jehovah Mekoddishkem clothe her in your righteousness, Jehovah Shammah be present with the brokenhearted, Jehovah Jireh provide all she needs, Jehovah Shalom rule over these dear ones in peace, Jehovah Rohi seek out your lambs and shepherd, El Shaddai won't you satisfy.