I drove my van into the driveway of the mobile home
and took a deep breath. Soon a young woman with wet long hair opened the screen
door and stepped out-side. Her belly was swollen, her face sunken and pale.
The guy behind her, with tattoos and missing teeth,
seemed cordial as he smiled. What am I getting myself into? The use of street drugs played its toll on them.
Now she faced homelessness and a pregnancy. As I greeted her it appeared she
lacked proper nutrition and her glassy eyes indicated she’d used recently.
We couldn’t find anyone else who wanted to help her;
after all she was released from jail for drug trafficking and petty theft. My
husband and I were taking a risk moving her into our home. Were we inviting
trouble? Putting our children in harm’s way? No sooner did doubt surface, a
wave of peace rushed through me. Then an overwhelming sensation of love
fiercely assaulted me, for a person I didn’t know. What did that mean?
Weeks before my first encounter with Brianna, I did a
“What if?” What if a homeless family knocked on our door, smelly and hungry,
needing a place to sleep? Would I politely refer them elsewhere or provide
hospitality without fear and judgment?
Now my what if stood before me. Suddenly, an unconditional love, which impregnated my
heart, subdued my uneasiness. Within days Brianna became a
member
of our family. Yet I still couldn’t understand why the uncanny connection to
support her, so filled my being.
We celebrated the birth of her daughter, Athena, mid
October 1987. We worked with her to be free from her addiction, get a job and
apartment. Unfortunately her cravings for heroin siphoned every ounce of her
will to fight—even a recovery home did little to conquer this demon.
Within eight months of Brianna being on her own, we
received a frantic call from the Santa Barbara County jail. “Please, go get
Athena . . . Don’t leave her with my boyfriend,” her voice shameful but her soul
pleading.
Her boyfriend refused to release Brianna's baby to us. The Police
found him with her in a run down house with drug paraphernalia and no running
water. They estimated she sat in her car seat drenched in urine and feces for
more then 12 hours. Once Brianna’s baby was placed into a transition home, we
petitioned the court and within three weeks became Athena’s foster parents.
Again we helped Brianna work toward healing—working,
living on her own, and doing well without drugs. But to our dismay, after six
months, her partner was released from jail, reintroducing drugs into her life.
Her visits with her daughter decreased and we lost connection.
On one particular Sunday, I received a call, “Can I
come see Athena?” The tone in her voice engaged my sixth sense—something was
up. “Of course you can, we’ve missed you.”
Upon her arrival we embraced and visited as she fed
her baby lunch. Then suddenly she said she had to go. Perplexed by the short
visit, I walked her out, noticing her expressions were guarded. Halfway up our
driveway she turned, catching my gaze. She didn’t have to say a word, I knew. I
knew she came to say goodbye, for good. Her eyes beckoned me to care and love
her child as my own. My heart agonized for her. Was my discernment correct?
Within several days we received a call from Arizona’s
women’s prison. This confirmed what I knew to be true. She was saying goodbye
that Sunday afternoon. Although I knew she wanted to crawl out of her abyss of
hopelessness, I understood she felt powerless to battle her monster. And I also
sensed she felt she was not ready to mother, yet the painful idea to release
her child for adoption was more than she could bear.
Then it became clear to me—why I had that tremendous
unconditional love for her, only a power greater than I, could know a person’s
thoughts and anguish, one needing care, love, and people she could trust with
her child. My spirit connected with hers, as God knew I’d become her child’s
mother. My what if turned into a
life altering, faith building challenge of reaching into the heart of another
only to be honored with the gift and job of raising her child, a thought that never
crossed my mind.
In acting upon my what if we received the gift of a friend, a child, and now
23 years later, the blessing gift of two beautiful grandchildren.
Today Brianna is recovered and doing well. She will
forever be bonded to our family.
