That’s a gift I wouldn’t have developed absent all those lives, all those stories, all that heartbreak.
When I was struggling with Christopher’s impending death a few months ago, I talked to my pastor a lot about my feelings. I shared all the questions that I had, all the struggles. She told me that the questions that I had and the concerns I carried for him went far beyond whether he was being taken care of and whether the right decisions were being made. She told me that in this transition that I was going through, it was possible that Christopher was the first person that I would see as both an attorney and as a pastor.
I had agreed with my pastor about that until the other day when
I was speaking to a colleague and friend. I posted last week about some
of my former clients and my pain over the path taken by one of the children, and
my inability to advocate for him in the way that I always had. She had
commented and said: “I remember sitting on the bench in the courthouse with you
the day you found out. I have had that memory of you and what you said in my
head so many times in lessons I try to teach young ones now about standing in the
gap.”
So the other night I asked her what it was I had said about the
situation that she still remembered. What she said was this: “That while he was
in care, you always showed up. And he didn’t have the easiest time or the best
situation. Your unconditional positive regard. And that is what I have tried to
teach staff about consistency. Even when they are acting unlovable that having
someone who cares about you regardless is invaluable. But also on the other
side of the coin that even with a champion on their side, once we no longer
have a say, we can’t control how they react to their trauma. But that doesn’t
mean that we didn’t make a positive impact. We can’t fix all the cracks.” My response was that it was heartbreaking and that sometimes there is just more damage than we can fix, and her response to that was “Yes. But yet here we are, still standing in the gap. It’s such a hard thing to have together. Such pain in an innocent child and unconditionally loving God.”
And it was then that I realized that maybe I’ve seen these kiddoes and those parents that I’ve been blessed to serve over these past 20 years as more than just clients all along. There are some certainly that I saw in the role of attorney and nothing more. But for some of them, there was so much more. I never realized that in many ways I was seeing them as a pastor would. But more importantly, as God would. As beloved children of God; even with their cracks, even with all their unlovable behaviors.
I interviewed for a judicial appointment once many years ago, and one of the questions I was asked was what, at the end of my career, was the one thing that I would want people to say of me. I gave some answer that I can’t remember now, but afterwards, I realized that I hadn’t given the answer I really meant. So I emailed the interviewer back and said, you know, I didn’t say what I really wanted to say. What I really want people to say of me at the end of my career is that I loved God and that I showed that love to those who came before me.
God had other plans for me than to make me a judge, and for that I am grateful. But the sentiment now is the same.
At the end of this legal career, and at the end of whatever ministry career God calls me to, I hope that what people say about me is what I said to the governor’s office all those many years ago. I hope that it was obvious that I loved God and that I showed that love to those who came before me. And I hope that even in those times that I wasn’t able to fix all the cracks, that the love I showed these children, and these parents, even when they were unlovable, in some small way showed them the grace of God in their lives.
And that someday I see them in Heaven. Happy and whole, their cracks finally filled with the mortar of God’s perfect love.
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