It was Valentines Day today, a day to celebrate love, but I witnessed the unraveling of a love relationship. Because I had to sign something, I found myself at the county courthouse. While waiting in line for my turn at a glass window with a talk-through hole in the middle, a young couple carrying a toddler stepped up to a different window not far from mine. The sign above theirs read, “FAMILY”.
As I waited, I watched them, worrying over the reason they were at the window. The mother, looking like a middle school kid with her tiny frame, was burdened down with a massive diaper bag, a big purse and a heavy baby. I just hoped they weren’t filing for divorce.
But it was worse than that.
The father (think teenager) leaned toward the window to explain. “This here is my baby, and I want to give up custody.”
The woman on the other side of the glass winced a little and said, “You mean you want to terminate your rights as a father?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, without a bit of emotion. “See, I don’t wanna give ‘em any more money. I haven’t worked for a year, and I don’t have any money. I wanna be done.”
I looked at the mother, who sat down nearby. She, too, was without emotion.
A rush of grief swept through me, and I wanted to know every detail about these three people. Had they finished high school? Did they have a place to live? Had they raised their baby together, this far? Did they have parents who were helping? Had they told anyone what they were doing today? Did they have any money? Or food? Both of them were reed thin.
But it was my turn at the other window, and I had to look away. A man seated at a desk behind the “FAMILY” window said, “Geez. When are these kids gonna start taking responsibility for the dumb decisions they make?” I glanced over to see if the little family had heard him, but they were gone.
A few minutes later, headed for the elevator, I saw the mother sitting on a bench in the hall, her baby on her lap holding a sippy cup. The father was not around.
I smiled at her, and she smiled back, so I walked up and said, “You have a sweet baby there. How old is he?”
“Almost two,” she said, turning his face so I could see him better. “He was born two months too soon, but the doctor says he’s doing pretty good.”
“He sure looks like he is,” I said. “He’s darling with his big blue eyes and curly blond hair. You must be very proud of him.”
“Oh I am,” she said, and we continued to chat, two moms who both love children.
When I finally stepped toward the elevator button, she said, “I hope you have a really nice day, ma’am, a really good day.” I thanked her, wished her the same, and the elevator door opened. Hopelessness washed over me, and the sting of tears made me grateful I was headed for the privacy of my car.
When I got there, the Lord aborted my crying by delivering a strong message. “That situation is not hopeless. You should know better than that. Why don’t you stop despairing and help them?”
I knew what he meant.
As I helped by praying, God reminded me he already knows the answers to all the questions I’d wondered about while waiting in line. He also has the power to affect dramatic, positive change in their lives. Since I would never see them again and couldn’t be of relationship help, praying for them was an opportunity to trust the Lord to act on their behalf.
With God involved, there’s always hope.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:3)
