A Call I Just Can't Answer

There's nothing more fun than acknowledging your weaknesses. Don't we all long for those special occasions on which we recognize and admit that we're not who we wish we were? In high school I regularly prayed that I'd wake up one day and be "normal." And as an adult (when not being normal can be good fun), I've often wished I was "nice." As in, "That Kim is so nice!" Unfortunately, nice and normal really aren't my thing.

This week I've had to face the unpleasant reality that my need for control over my life is bigger than my heart. In other words, I'm incapable of being selfless.

Last weekend I learned that Cassie, a five-year-old to whom I'm distantly related, has been taken from her grandmother and put in foster care. Cassie's grandmother was raising Cassie and her sister after their mother abandoned them and their father was found unfit for parenting after more than one suicide attempt. I first heard about Cassie two years ago when I was told by a family member that this little girl was not receiving the love and care that every child deserves. While her older sister was given opportunities for play and special childhood treats, they were withheld from Cassie. As a toddler, her grandmother would literally keep her strapped into a high chair so she wouldn't run around or get in the way. More recently, Cassie was sent to bed each day at 4:30 p.m.--out of sight, out of mind. Her grandmother readily admits that she doesn't want this child in her life. And I should note that this little girl is not a handful. She is meek, mild, and soft-spoken with lovely manners and sad eyes.

When Cassie's situation first came to my attention two years ago, I wrestled with whether to become involved in her life. Could she spend time with my family? Where would it lead? I made one small effort to reach out to Cassie's grandmother to see if I could help ease her burden, but the message I left was never returned. And on I went with my life.

Now Cassie is living with strangers and I spent the first few days of this week agonizing over what to do. Was God calling me to care for this child? Was that why she "appeared" again in my life? I prayed. I spoke with a friend in ministry. I cried my eyes out on more than one occasion. I know God has a call for each one of us, but how could I be sure this was mine?

When I envisioned coming to Cassie's rescue, I saw the Lifetime movie version playing in my head. I would adopt her, bring her into my family where my children would open their hearts to her. I would provide for her every need: enough food to eat, new clothes to wear, Sunday school, kindergarten, friends, books to read, dance lessons, family vacations. She would learn to smile and someday she'd call me "Mom."

In my Lifetime movie version of Cassie's life, there would be no bonding or attachment issues from years of emotional neglect. There would be no learning disabilities from being born to a drug addicted mother. There would be no special needs that required untold amounts of my devoted time. There might be a few bumps in the road, but nothing that I couldn't handle, nothing that would dramatically affect my fairly idyllic life.

But my Lifetime movie version is fiction, a fantasy. In reality, Cassie's needs will be great and she will need someone dedicated to giving her the life she deserves, regardless of the cost. And as I considered the very real investment that would be required to bring Cassie into my life, I came to the sad realization that I cannot be that person.

Many of you know that the first decade early years of motherhood were not easy for me. I cried. A lot. I wondered what I had gotten myself into, and I struggled mightily with the changes a child brought to my life. And my children are whole, healthy, and unblemished by life inequities; I have had no true challenges to face in raising them. I have reached a point in my life where I have things under control (or as under control as they'll ever be). My children are old enough to care for themselves much of the time. The demands on me are not as overwhelming as they once were. When thinking about Cassie, I had to ask myself if I was ready to basically start over, to give up control, to sacrifice many of my needs to meet someone else's. And my answer was "no."

It breaks my heart to admit that I am too selfish to give myself to someone in need. I hate that I might be letting God down. I worry that Cassie will never have the life she deserves. But I know that I am not the answer for this little girl and so I'm making the decision to walk away. I'd say it's a difficult decision, but you could argue that I'm taking the easy way out.

Although she does not know me, I ask for Cassie's forgiveness, and I pray that someone can give her the love and affection and attention that every single child deserves.