He said, “They won’t be coming back.”
I stared blankly at the screen trying to reign in the words. Everyone has always entertained my belief that they will be back one day… no one had ever shut off the entire thought so completely. I’m hardly ever at a loss of words, but all I could manage to do was to change the subject as quickly as possible.
Hearing true thoughts from a whole nother viewpoint can be a punch in the stomach.
(back story on my stepdaughter and her mother running away for religious reasons here )
I live the pain my husband has felt from the whole ordeal, I feel the pain for the baby she abandoned, I see the twisted remains of her husband she left… but the pain of her siblings, loosing a mother and a sister, I’m afraid it might be more than I can bare.
It’s hard enough to see my son forget about her completely.
And is that what they really wanted? To be forgotten? And knowing that at one point we all believed and praised from the same bible, aren’t they contradicting the whole entire book? Aren’t we supposed to show our faith and proclaim it from a mountain top? How do we share if we hide?
Or was there more to it all? Other problems so grand, running was the only option… Or could fear keep them hidden, fear of being so wrong, so lost, so caught up that it’s hard to face the truth.
And will they come back?
My faith, my heart, my soul say they will be back. No one can run forever, we all get tired, we all fall. I’ve done my best to remind myself that WHEN they come back that it won’t be them. I will not be wrapping my arms around the same girl who I knew, but a familiar shell with different fillings. The same and so different.
But what if they don’t come back.
I suppose my only answer can be… I won’t let that happen.
Which is foolish and childish, stubborn and unrealistic. But what if one of the only people who still has any hope at all looses hope? What if hope disappears? Why come back if hope is gone? I will always have hope.