So, my husband and I recently moved to a new city and we now need someone to watch our (15 month old) little boy approximately 10 hours a week. While I was in the process of screening applicants, I spoke with one lady who seemed nice enough. We were communicating by Gmail and I noticed she had a profile, so I clicked on the profile and discovered that she has a blog.
I don't want to link to the blog directly, as, even though my persona here is anonymous, I'd rather she not figure out who I am, but here is an excerpt:
Beautiful one, Death called their name and they went running. No one intervened. No one said anything. No one petitioned heaven.” Each word hitting my heart like a bullet sent for me to receive.
Looking closer, I see that there had been words written behind the verdict, as if still lingering from the past. Making them out, I see the words, “I am a reformer. I will change history. I will take nations with the word of the Lord.” Stunned, with my spirit involved in a fight I was not willing to lose. I ask, “Baby who stole you?”
She whispers back, “Abortion stole me. Death stole me. Malaria stole me. Neglect stole me. Human trafficking stole me.”
“Baby, why didn’t anyone save you?”
And I hear Him, I hear Him crying with tears streaming, “No one stopped to hear her story.”
My eyes were locked on Him, as He hovered over these books with pens laid down. With His hand, He pulls out the words from behind the verdict. They are burning, moving, and dancing inside of His hands clenched; He is moving closer to me, He is coming for me. My soul pacing in waiting and in wanting, He places His hand upon my heart.
“It is not too late for you to carry this.” Again, I nod, how can I do anything else? I am in love.
Looking down, I now see that many names have been written upon me. “Beloved, You are a sign that death didn’t win.”
Strength that is supernatural and victory that belongs to the Warrior fills me on the inside. He is intimate and intricate, pushing at the walls of what I can contain, stretching me, that I may be able to possess more that is Him. My eyes pushed to suddenly open up to an unseen realm, I see a line of children on the side of a street; they are from every nation. Kneeling down beside each of them, I hear the language of my heart race like a marathon runner.
“Little one, you are powerful. You have a story. Tell me your story and I will tell you why your story makes you a weapon.”
This is just a tiny, tiny excerpt and the ENTIRE blog is filled with this kind of thing. So, and I feel a little badly about this, I went running for the hills and completely cut off contact with her.
I feel badly because I have visions of fundamentalist Christians who would never consider letting their child near an openly atheist baby-sitter due to what "that kind of person" might teach them, and I don't want to be that kind of parent. I certainly don't want to raise him to be sheltered from any "kind" of person (except pedophiles or the criminally violent, obviously), but it was all just a bit too much for me.
Any other parents (or non-parents) have similar experiences?