|
Friends United Meeting |
 |
October 1997
The Lost Child Letters
Anonymous
Those who have suffered deeply often find themselves unexpectedly empowered to help and comfort others. Yet it takes tremendous courage to share lessons learned through pain for another's sake. This heart-rending collection of letters is reproduced by permission from the June issue of Inspirations, a quarterly publication of Poplar Ridge Friends Meeting, North Carolina Yearly Meeting. The letters were written by a member of that meeting who has allowed them to be published in the hope that other lost children might come to experience God's grace too.
It is important to understand that the "lost child" in these letters is the author herself and that the letters are a way of dealing with the trauma of her childhood.
The letters have been written over a period of years and trace the author's spiritual development from dark despair through an awakening to God's love. The author's name has been withheld by request.
(In this first letter, the author looks at a photograph of herself as a child and tries to express in words what she now sees and understands about the child she once was.)
Dear Lost Child,
As I see your photograph on my dresser, my heart is sad for you. My eyes see your smile, but my heart sees your pain. My eyes see your small, frail stature--my heart sees the heavy load you carry and your understanding far beyond your years.
My eyes see a small ten-year-old. My heart sees a small adult-trying to survive in a world of anger, criticism, self-centeredness, disappointment and sin; a home where everyone is so wrapped up in their own pain, you just don't matter. You feel you must just stay out of the way.
My heart sees the fear in your eyes--fear that your father will come home in a drunken rage, wielding a black pistol, threatening and beating your mother. He is out of control and she just won't hush. You and your sister are clutching the covers as you hear the explosions of anger and the terror of the battle in the night.
You don't understand what all the anger is about or if the accusations your mother makes are true; and it doesn't matter to you--you just want the fighting to stop. The next day you stand back watching and listening as your mother explains her black eye to others--sometimes with the truth and sometimes with a lie.
I see your feelings and fear of being abandoned as your father moves out and as your mother talks continuously about leaving. You don't know what will happen to you then. Your father doesn't even come by to bring groceries, but rather sends someone to drop them off.
I see your shame as a nosy neighbor "picks you" as to what's going on at your house. I see your shame the first time your father hits your mother. It is in a public place. You are five years old and already you are ashamed the kids at school will find out.
I see your shame as you realize from being in church that your family and the things you are exposed to are not normal. I see your feeling of worthlessness as you compare your family to others. There must be something wrong with you 'cause there is surely something wrong with them. You feel you aren't as good as others. If people only knew, they would be shocked. You feel this at school and at church. Your teachers all love you, and you have lots of friends, but somehow your "bad" family and your small physical size just make you feel you don't quite measure up. You love church and you want God to be a part of your life, but here again you feel worthless and that there's something wrong with you because of all the things others don't know about your family.
I see a yearning in your eyes for a real family. You take on responsibility far beyond your years. You don't have time to be a child. You don't have time to be dependent on others. It's too risky. They will fail you and that hurts too much.
By the time you are 13 or 14, you are cutting down the Christmas tree and "making Christmas" yourself. You have learned that you can't count on others. You must do it yourself. You can't depend on them. It hurts too much and they will disappoint you.
And perhaps that is the biggest pain of all!
(The author wishes the lost child could have had the love and care that she needed.)
Dear Lost Child,
I wish I could have been your mother. I wish I could have given you the things you needed to make you feel loved and secure. I wish I could have been your mother when you were sick instead of you being carted off to a neighbor's before dawn. I would have held you and read to you and rocked you. You would have known that I cared instead of lying in a cold bed, in a cold room at the neighbor's, afraid that you would mess up something when you were sick. We would have spent the day together and you would have known that you were special.
I wish I could have been your mother and given you the
things and taught you the things
that would have made you feel
good about yourself. I wish I could have been your mother and made a home for you where you would have been proud to bring your friends. You knew your home was different and you were ashamed.
I wish I could have been your mother and tucked you in bed at night. I would have prayed with you and read to you and sung to you. If I had been your mother, we would have loved our bedtime routine. I've often wondered why, even today, you can only sleep curled in a fetal position and you never turn without waking first. Are you afraid there will be a battle in the night and you will be unprotected unless you are curled up tight?
Lost Child, I really believe your mother did the best she could under the circumstances, but it's so sad for you. Sometimes I feel like sadness hurts more than any other emotion. It's so passive and defeated and helpless. Maybe there would be hope if there was anger or resentment. But these unresolved emotions are a sin. Is sadness a sin too? Can sadness ever be resolved?
(The author tries to imagine what God would say to the Lost Child but fails. Instead, the Lost Child expresses anger toward God.)
Dear God,
I have struggled with this for three days and I am surprised to discover that the feelings inside me are most disturbing. I am unable to write to the Lost Child from You, so instead, this letter is to You from my Lost Child. You see, I can't have any idea what you would say to this child. The things I have been reading lately just don't fit.
God, my Father, this is not a nice letter. I don't really know what to think about what I'm feeling. If my feelings are a sin, please forgive me. If my feelings are from a confused, wounded, child's heart, please help me to mature and heal so that my thoughts and feelings honor you.
When I allow myself to feel deep compassion for this child, I also feel anger for her pain. Her parents were ignorant and had no idea what she was experiencing, but you did. Where were you? Why didn't you protect her? She was so helpless and innocent and not even to the age of accountability. Why did you let her suffer? Her suffering didn't make her stronger; it just gave her a lot of sensitive, tender scars that have handicapped her life and damaged those around her.
Is she afraid to trust you? Does she feel you failed her too? Is she afraid that if she acknowledges all of her pain, she will be stuck with dealing with it all alone? Is she afraid if she depends on you, she will be disappointed?
Your Word says that you are thinking thoughts of her all the time and that you have a plan for her. Were you thinking of her when all those bad things happened to her? She tried so hard to be a Christian, even as a child. Why did you let her hurt so badly and grow up to be so confused? Where were you all those times she felt so scared and so unwanted? Where were you when she felt like she wasn't important enough to matter? Where were you when she felt neglected and that no one cared for her? Where were you when she was not allowed to be a child?
God, I want to feel that you are a tender, loving Father, looking out for my good. I want to feel that you are interested in every detail of my life. I want to feel that you are faithful, generous and just. I want to trust you completely and not question you and then maybe I won't be lost anymore.
(The following letter was written during a time of deep despair when suicidal thoughts were plaguing the author.)
Dear Lost Child,
I found you today and you are a terrible sight! The tangled forest of life is deep and dark, and you became lost there. You are tired, wounded and bleeding. Your struggles to walk on the self-destructive path you wandered onto have left you critically injured and unable to walk. You want to get up, but you can't.
Your wounds are large and gaping, and you have bled for a long time. The rough places in your journey have almost destroyed you. You search deep inside for strength, but you can't find any. You see-you gave it all away.
Jesus wants to help you as you lie helpless and hopeless. He wants to use His own channels in His own time to heal you and to make you whole. Just hang on...don't go too deep. Just try to rest in the assurance that He is coming to find you. You must believe that He will come, and that He will heal your wounds and then you won't be lost anymore.
(The author is finally able to imagine what God would say to the lost child)
Dear Lost Child,
My Dear Child,
You have never been lost to me, "I am with you always..."
You have expressed your anger to me...but that's okay, I love you anyway.
You have neglected me just as your parents neglected you...but that's okay, I love you anyway.
You have been self-centered instead of Christ-centered...but that's okay, I love you anyway.
You have been proud of your independence instead of depending on me...but that's okay, I love you anyway.
You have put other things and other people ahead of me...but that's okay, I love you anyway.
You have tried to win my approval by doing things instead of accepting my grace...but that's okay, I love you anyway.
You have spent more of your time and effort in service than in adoration and worshipping me...but that's okay, I love you anyway.
You have spent many years not feeling my love for you...but that's okay, I love you anyway.
You have not loved the person I created in you...but that's okay, I love you anyway.
It's all okay, because I have forgiven you.
My dear child, I don't want you to feel lost. I want you to feel my love and tenderness toward you. I want you to feel my protection and warmth. I want you to feel confident that I am providing for you. I want you to depend on me and let my strength flow through you. I want you to stop trying so hard and to let me take care of things and people. I want you to surrender your whole being to me. I want you to "let go and let me."
I know you have felt neglected by your earthly parents, and you have felt that I abandoned you too. You have been afraid to trust me as you have been afraid to trust them. I have been there with you all along-loving you and taking care of you even when you couldn't see me, couldn't feel me, and when you didn't give me credit for all my provisions for you.
I was there watching tenderly over you when, at five years old, you were almost run over by a truck. No one knew how you escaped, but I know. I was there when you needed to not be alone in your growing up years, and I gave you a little sister to love and to be loved by. I was there when you needed Christian guidance, and I gave you a neighbor who took an interest in you and who took you to church that you might learn about me. I was there when you needed stability in your life, and I gave you a Christian husband. I was there when you needed to know how deeply I loved you, and I made you a mother that you might know that deep sacrificial love I have for you. I was there when you needed someone to save you from your sins, and I gave you my son Jesus.
Little lost child, you were the victim of a sinful world and you became lost there. You wanted everything to be so perfect because I made you for a perfect world. I made you for the Garden of Eden but sin forced you out and that's the source of your pain...not me. I have only loved you "furiously" and have provided a plan for you to live in a perfect place with me. Jesus is preparing that place right now and I have been with you since I created you and "I am with you always even until the end of the age." Now I want to heal all your wounds.
Just trust me,
Your Heavenly Father
(In this letter, the author realizes that she is beginning to heal emotionally as she rejoices in God's presence with her.)
My Heavenly Father,
Thank you for the joy in my heart right now. It has been such a long time since I have felt so close to you. I am in awe of your love and your goodness and grace to me. You are a wonderful omnipotent Father and I praise your Holy Name. You have made me to love you, to honor you, to worship and adore you...and I do.
I am unable to comprehend the extent of your love for me. Thank you for forgiving all my sins and for loving me when I fail you. Thank you for the healing I feel in my broken heart. I ask that you continue to heal my wounds and give me what I need to honor you for my healing. Guide me and speak clearly to me and show me how I can best honor you and use this bad experience of deep despair to help someone else in your name. I surrender my all to you.
Thank you for your circle of love that is engulfing me right now. If you want me to continue to rest and to just take in all your love, your goodness and your grace that you are providing me, I want to do that. If you are ready for me to serve you in some way, by sharing this healing experience with someone else, I want to do that. I am yours. Let your power flow through me. My efforts are at rest in you. I can do nothing in myself.
Father, I know this is a special moment right now in my life, and I want to hold on to it. I feel so much joy and so much peace in you. I wish everyone could feel what I feel right now. I am so completely absorbed in your love. Thank you! Thank you! I feel like I am your child, resting in your arms, basking in your love, while you protect me from anything that is bad or that would hurt me. Thank you for your Father heart. Thank you for revealing to me what it feels like to be loved by a caring parent who loves me unconditionally, even when I fall.
Maybe I'm not so lost anymore! In Jesus' precious name.
(The author recalls her first letter three years earlier and remembers how difficult it is to acknowledge the pain of her childhood. She expresses confidence that God will continue to heal the scars of the lost child)
Dear Lost Child,
It's been a little more than three years since I first learned that you existed. Since that time I have come to know more about you and how you came to be lost, though at first I refused to have compassion for you or to even acknowledge that you were there because it hurt so badly. I have since learned to become gentle with you and to love the child God created you to be.
God had not forgotten you--His beloved child. Though you can't reclaim your childhood, you can feel secure that He is taking care of you now; cradling you in His arms, protecting you, and gently teaching you about His love for you and for all His other children. Lost child, even though I know I will always feel your scars from time to time, I realize that I am gradually putting you to rest because I know God is taking care of you, and I don't have to worry about you or to be afraid for you anymore.
Inspirations is a ministry of Poplar Ridge Friends and of Marcia Cox who serves as its editor. She encourages Friends to consider submitting their writing for possible publication in Inspirations. Manuscripts may be sent to Inspirations, Marcia Cox, editor, 117 Brandon Lane, Trinity NC 27370, or inquiries may be made through the church phone (910) 861-5026.
Copyright (c) 1997 Friends United Meeting
Return to October 1997 Contents page