I Should Have Known Not To Call For You

Sometimes it is easier to just free fall.

Sometimes it is easier to simply let go.

Sometimes holding on exhausts all strength you had.

And you give up, and give in-

To the reality of your pain,

To the fears that claw at your chest,

To the tormenting thoughts that are rooted, not just in anxiety of what might happen,

But in what actually happened

And continues.


Trust has eroded all that once was your beach.

Where you could stand firmly and watch the beauty of the ocean and be reminded of His vast love.

Where you could sit and gain strength seeing how He created and controls the winds and waves, skies and shore.

But as the storms of your story eat away at the sand on which you stand,

And you look down and realize, the only land left is the grains of seashells beneath the soles of your soul.


And you are alone there,

In your fear while the waves confuse in their cacophony of force and sound.

There is an option to cry for help. Stress so intense presses you to do what situations of the past have schooled you not to do.


But I should have known not to call for you.

You aren’t my savior.

You won’t even try to save me in my sea of despair.

I am just a little girl who wants to be reassured,

Rescued by your love.

But I am not little.

I am a woman who has given birth to a child three times, adopted two children, and married once twenty five years ago. Before that I hunted for love in high school boys but only found hurt.

Before that I was little.

And between seven and eleven years old, I was molested by my parent’s friend’s son.

In twenty years of marriage, I grew accustomed to being loved in a way that was like a beach restoration project. What had been destroyed in the many hurricanes was replenished. And I sat on that beach happily.

Twenty years of really good made me believe I could trust again as we decided to share what the good Lord had given us.

Adopting foster care children should have been a success if one studied our skill set on paper. Two teachers who had seen a lot of abuse cases and had understood how damaged kids needed consistency.

That very attribute anchors the heart. It allows one to experience that regardless of the circumstances, you can trust. Proven.

But there are always the worst case scenarios.

And that is the journey our family has been on.

Regardless of the consistent love given the two siblings we opened our home to, it didn’t matter. Love didn’t win. Love didn’t matter. Love hasn’t been enough.

Loving them has hurt all five of us deeply.

Trust has vanished.

The family has become a group of orphans who look out for number one.

So when I called for you,

Wretched in anguish,

Screamed from a place of black,

You came,

But only to tell me to shut up.

And then you stumbled off to sleep.

I let my fears give way to insane ideas.

That you would want to sit in my hell.

I should have known not to call for you.

I won’t call for you.

It’s not an option.

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