Yesterday morning I was sitting at the kitchen island getting ready for church when something unexpected happened. Irritation crept in, and before I even realized what was happening, it consumed me.
My mind went back to a small town we used to drive through over and over again.
Court hearings.
Meetings.
Long days that took time away from my children.
Gas money, stress, rearranged schedules.
A situation we did not create.
A situation we had nothing to do with.
Yet somehow, we were pulled straight into the center of it.
My husband has three children of his own, this is regarding the youngest of those three. For years, from 2007 until early 2013, he was allowed to see her once. One time. Around his birthday in 2008.
That visit only happened because I reached out to her mother and arranged it as a surprise for both of them. We met at Como Zoo and spent the day together, with his ex and their daughter. It was actually beautiful. Peaceful. Normal. For a few hours, it felt like maybe things could be okay.
But after that, silence again.
Requests for visits were denied. Phone numbers changed. Social media attempts ignored. Emails rarely answered. I watched my husband carry that pain quietly. There is something heartbreaking about seeing a father who wants his child and cannot reach her.
Then in 2013, six years later, we were contacted. We were asked if we wanted her for a week because she was “acting out.” and mom couldn't handle her. We had no idea what was really happening.
Within weeks after that week-long visit, CPS contacted us. What we learned about her living situation was devastating. The home she had been in was unsafe. Neglectful. Dark in ways I don’t even want to detail. It was worse than we ever imagined!
A CHIPS case was opened. She and her brother were removed. Suddenly, we were part of a legal system I had never navigated before.
The courtroom became our new reality.
And here’s what got me the most.....instead of recognizing that my husband had been denied access for years, instead of acknowledging the documented requests for visitation, the county tried to paint him as the problem. They tried to place him right in the middle of it, even though he hadn't been a part of that union for close to 7.5 years. Evidence was dismissed. His Native heritage was minimized. False accusations were repeated as if they were facts, even when police reports proved otherwise.
They even threatened our home!
We were told that if his rights were terminated, he would not be allowed to live in our marital home. My children.
Our children.
All because of choices someone else made three hours away!
I remember sitting there thinking, How can they do this!? How can this be real!?
I had NEVER experienced anything like it!
It felt like being accused of a crime you didn’t commit and being told you had to prove your innocence while the truth sat ignored on the table.
So yesterday, sitting at that island, all of it came flooding back. The anger. The injustice. The fear. The exhaustion.
And then I felt the Lord gently rebuke me.
“Didn’t I use that situation to draw you to Me?”
Yes, He did!
That season stripped me of control.
I couldn’t fix the courtroom.
I couldn’t force truth to be acknowledged.
I couldn’t stop the accusations.
I couldn’t shield my children from every threat.
But I COULD choose where I ran!
And I ran to Him!
I turned to the Word like I never had before. I listened to preaching constantly because it steadied my mind. I prayed in my kitchen. I prayed in my car. I prayed when the fear would rise at night.
One afternoon, while listening to Bro. Josh Herring preach, I felt the Lord speak something so specific it startled me:
“I will intervene in the courtroom if you speak life into your home.”
THAT was my word from Him!
Not fight harder.
Not scream louder.
Not defend myself on every platform.
Speak life!
Over my husband.
Over my children.
Over our home.
Over our future.
So I did. Even when I didn’t feel like it. Even when fear tried to choke me. Even when anger felt justified.
And something shifted.
I don’t say that lightly. It didn’t mean the situation disappeared overnight. It didn’t mean everything felt easy. But spiritually, our home changed.... I changed. I prayed more. I was intentional with my words. I guarded our atmosphere.
What the enemy meant for chaos became the very thing that anchored me!
That courtroom season, the one I NEVER would have chosen, brought salvation and spiritual life into our home in a way comfort never could have. It deepened my faith and it forced me to depend on God instead of the outcome.
Yesterday, irritation tried to pull me back into the injustice of it all.
But perspective pulled me forward.
God didn’t waste that pain.
He used it.
And sometimes when old memories rise up, it’s not because we’re regressing. It’s because God is reminding us how far He’s brought us and preparing us to expect greater than He’s already done, because this story is FAR from over!
What once felt like it would break us became the very thing that built our faith.
And I WON'T forget that!
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