Humans have questioned their gods since the beginning of time and today is no different. Some relationships begin very early in life and my own relationship with God began during my early childhood. My brother and myself had a sad background of a very dysfunctional family and even though we learned early on to get whatever we could out of it, sometimes it became very hard just to be able to cope. We never dwelled to much on our past and moved forward working hard and as years have passed, I like to think we've tried to do our best to raise families that in no way or matter resemble our own, except maybe by the unconditional love my mom gave us.
Precisely because of that, I raised all my children more or less the same way, but my oldest child was a protester by nature. She was always against something. I remember when she was in third grade she told me that she had taken a math test that day and had not studied, but received an A. My reaction was telling her calmly that it wasn't honest of her not to have told me that she would get a test and despite of her taking the test that day she would need to study as if she would be taking it the next day. She became very upset and after a while wailed as she said, "I think I'm the only little girl in this community that is studying for a test I already took". That should have told me something back then.
My husband and myself tried to do our best raising her in the warmth of our local church, watching how she blossomed and welcomed Jesus into her heart when she was only eleven years old. I told my husband she's too young, she doesn't know what she's doing, this is not the right time, and so many more things rushed through my head, but that didn't stop her. She took upon herself all the work she thought she was capable of doing, she was always busy. I knew where she was heading to when she finished college and it worried me. She wanted to work for our denomination as a Young Adult Volunteer in Arizona. She had chosen to become our Lord's hands and voice in a far away land that was foreign for us. We feel proud to know about her work and how it evolves around the Southside Presbyterian Church in Tucson helping immigrants find a job for a day and protesting against a very wrong immigration law. She has chosen to walk the walk and talk the talk. Not many Christians are willing to do, I haven't met to many that are willing to do it. We want to serve comfortably, with everything at the tips of our fingers and a hefty paycheck to match our work.
It's no secret that things our tough for immigrants in Arizona and the government doesn't take protestors in lightly (that's what scares the most). Sometimes I'm so worried about her well being that I feel sick to my stomach. To make things a little worse she got her best friend involved as well, so not only do I worry about my own child, but also for another mom's child as well. I often remember them as two little girls playing and laughing in my daughter's room, laying down in a my daughter's twin bed, dreaming and making plans. At one point, both of them wanted to become paleontologists. I sure wished they had followed up on that dream. I still close my eyes and listen to their endless conversations at night. Before my eyes I saw as in fast forward how they both grew and became two adult women. They've given me some grief over the years (like when they took off to Holland and I didn't know anything about them for about a day or two), but the bottom line is that they became two amazing women. August 20th will always bring me back memories of both of them waiting in line in a security check point in San Juan's International Airport, knowing that this time around, nothing would ever be the same. Today, I worry about them in a world that is no longer safe for anybody that doesn't look like an American ( and they certainly don't look it).
So many doubts, so many thoughts wondering in my head, asking myself sometimes why my perfect God (like the Facebook kid states), like icing on top of any cake, has asked me to give Him the most precious thing a mother can have, her child. Is it not yet enough all the burden of my own childhood, my husband's illness and later on life my own? The big guy and me have had many tough conversations about this and still my heart bleeds as I pray for myself and my child. In occasions feeling as empty as I felt when I began praying. Some time ago, after much soul searching I heard his answer whispered quietly in my ear as He told me that she is no longer my child, but His own, and her well being is enclosed in the comfort of his hands forever.
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