Ingrates
In October of this year, I took in two teen boys. Their mother was in a coma. Their abusive, alcoholic father had been estranged from the family for over five years. Although the mother had six siblings and several friends, no one would take in the children. The children were a few days away from homelessness when I obtained temporary custody of them. Their father did not object. The mother’s relatives endorsed the placement.
After three weeks with me, the oldest child decided that he did not want to wear a belt, do school work or contribute to household chores. He arranged to live with a family friend who had previously refused to assist his family. The younger child stayed with me for two more weeks. After a long discussion about his lack of gratitude for the sacrifices that had been made for him, he sulked for three hours and elected to live with his older brother. The new “custodian” took over two weeks to enroll the oldest child in school. After a few days, she could not afford food for the children. Although they have not spoken with me directly, the children have told relatives that their father has direct access to them. They no longer have to worry about respecting me or doing chores, but they have more pressing problems such as food, clothing and safety.
Initially, I was angry. I spent thousands of dollars on attorney’s fees, meals, hotel stays and clothing. I missed several days of work. When the children thought they could get more and do less, they left. They didn’t care anything about me. My sacrifices didn’t matter. Later, I was sad. I felt violated. Then, I felt relieved. Relieved that their stay lasted five weeks and not five months or five years. The more I learn about their current placement, the more sorrow I feel for them. They realize they made a huge mistake. A relative and a coworker who are familiar with the situation asked if I would take them back. The short answer is yes. Do they deserve a second chance? Absolutely not. They haven’t apologized to me nor have they initiated any contact with me other than a half-hearted effort to get me to do something for them.
As angry as I was with the children, I could not help but compare the situation to my relationship with Christ. He made the ultimate sacrifice for me. For years, I ignored him and lived my life as I saw fit. When did I accept Christ? When I was at the end of me. I was out of options. Nothing was working. I came to Christ when I wanted something that I couldn’t get on my own. Is there a right or wrong reason to come to Christ? The children came to live with me because they had no other options. When they had another option that appeared to be better, they took it. I’ve tipped back into the world and turned my back on Christ when the world’s offerings were enticing. Every time I’ve strayed and asked for forgiveness, I’ve received it. If the children want to return, how can I deny them what I have freely received?
