Lions Den

She's stopped screaming. She came out of her room with her angel face back in place and asked politely if she could come get her clothes from the laundry room. She's de-escalated pretty well for now. And then she says to you, "Beth, I need to talk to you." This is the moment that you think, oh good, she's going to apologize for busting out in the middle of prayer with cuss words and inappropriate references. When you took those ten minutes to patiently, lovingly, and gently correct her, she finally listened. And then as you sit her down she asks you, "Do my bones stick out?" What? Really? Yes, really.

I don't know why the Lord picked me for this job. I'm terrible at it. I don't want to see them stealing cake from the walk in, or passing notes to the boys, so I'm a terrible staff member. And I actually expect them to listen to words and change. I look at this girl: she has more hate in her pinky finger for the girl who called her 'braindead' than I think I have ever felt for anyone. But that doesn't mean she is more guilty than I am for not loving my brother.

I get so angry: not at the girls, but at the lies. They scream at me, defending their right to be bitter, defending their right to lie, defending their right to use vulgar language. They don't want change. They want comfort and safety. And I get angry that they only listen when they're getting their own way. I get angry at their hypocrisy and selfishness. I don't want to be a parent. I don't want to keep disciplining behavior when they have such major heart issues.

I'm tired of going home crying. I'm tired of feeling exhausted. But the road stretches on before me. Do I back down? Do I quit? Do I take on their burdens and failures? They are so very good at pushing off all of their pain onto anyone who will take it. And I have become so accustomed to taking other peoples' burdens that it is not a good combination.

God, I know you have a plan for me- a plan to use even this in my life. But please don't come too late. I am waiting for the dawn. I trust in your Faithfulness, but doubt my own strength. I don't want to turn back before the end. I want to fight bravely until dawn.

Sometimes I feel like this is a den of lions to me and a fiery furnace: but even if He doesn't save me, I will trust in Him.