The Porch Light

I held her in my arms in the therapist’s office. I had never been able to hold her when she was a baby, toddler or even a pre-schooler. As I looked into her eyes there was so much I wanted her to see in mine. The regrets of not seeing her brokenness. The way I let her push me away. My own walls I put up so that she could not hurt me. It was a battle of the broken…. She threw her poisonous darts to hurt me so that I would stay away, because the love of a mother scared her too much. And I put up my walls so those darts would not hurt so much. I didn’t know what she needed and so she didn’t get it. Don’t get me wrong, I am a good mom. I bake cookies with my kids, make them healthy meals and read them stories. I pray for them and with them. But the wall I put up wasn’t seen or noticed. Oh she felt the wall and I felt hers, but they were hidden deep within our hearts out of fear. What was there to fear? She was only a child and I an upstanding woman in my community and church. There was much to fear. So much,
in fact, that it drove both of us to keep our walls firmly in place lest one of us get hurt. Now as I gazed into her eyes those walls were broken. At least mine were. The eyes are amazing! You can see into a person’s soul if they let you. She would allow me a glimpse every now and then and this was one of those moments. Her eyes told me of deep wounds that were inflicted viciously by her own mother. The things that she had experienced could not even be spoken because they were too traumatic, too unthinkable to imagine. I saw the little girl that I never knew aching for someone to rescue her, to protect her, to love her. I wanted her to see into my soul. I wanted to scream…”I’m here! I’ve come to rescue you! You are not alone! My walls are gone now! You can fire your darts at me; I’m ready to take your pain! I want to take all the suffering, all the abuse, all the evil that was done to you so that you can be free!” But it was too late. The doors in her soul shut. The glimpse was over. My chance was gone. Her defenses went up and the darts came again. With my walls down you would think that her darts would be painful. But the opposite happened. I was able to absorb her darts and the years of pain that came with them. I continued to see the wounded little girl and persevered in my love. This angered her even more. There was no one to hurt. No one to push away. So she did the only thing she knew to do. Run! She ran away from my love. Why, you ask? Why would a child who was loved run away from it? Fear is the answer. If one mother could hurt her so deeply, so deeply it would change the way she acted, felt, and thought, she would never let that happen again. So she left. And all that’s left of this mother’s heart is an empty ache that can only be filled by her. Yes, there are many other children who fill this mother’s heart. But there is a hole that is longing for the day she will return. A hope that never dies, yet a pain so piercing that it’s a reminder every morning when I wake up and every evening when I fall asleep. When a child leaves their mother, whether physically or emotionally, that mother is never the same. She turns the porch light on in her heart, waiting for her beloved child to return. She is always ready, always hoping, always loving. There is nothing that can soothe it and nothing that can extinguish it. That light is always burning. A beacon to show the way back. Back to love, back to healing, back into her arms. My arms are ready….I’m waiting.