I don’t even know where to start….I’m not sure if I should even be writing about this right now, but it is what I do.  It is how I wade through.  It is my voice and I need to speak. But now I sit here, with my fingers on these computer keys, and everything that was rolling around in my head has screeched to a halt.  I don’t know even know how to start talking about what is on my heart….I will try.

It is the middle of the night and I just woke up from a dead sleep, wide awake, brain already in overdrive before I even realized I was coming out of the stupor of sleep.

How do even begin to spit this out?

How do I start this conversation with you?

How do I breach the uncomfortable awkwardness of the elephant in the living room?

I don’t know.

So I will just rip the blanket off and speak of this beautiful disaster….

My child has been arrested for attempted murder.

. . . . .

. . . . .

Please know that I am fully aware of how emotionally unsafe this conversation may make me.  In talking about this, I know that I am potentially opening myself up to all kinds of opinions of my daughter, myself, my family.  It’s a small town.  I get it.  Things like this don’t happen here.  I know the judgement will come.  It’s already here.  But what I know is that there is nothing that anyone can think or say about me that I have not already thought of myself. I understand. Believe me.

I have thought so many times that my failure as a mother is what allowed my girl to walk into the world she walked into.  It is not.  What allowed her to walk into this darkness was her.  It took years but she got here because of her.  Over time, she made choices.  She thought things, and fed those thoughts, and allowed others to feed them.  And the more she thought them, the more she became part of the darkness she dwelt on.  She began to make choices.  And those choices, over and over again, led her to where she is right now.  I did not make even ONE of those choices for her.  In fact, I fought those choices with everything in me.  I fought them with my words, my emotions, my prayers.  I was unsuccessful.  The failure is not mine as a mother.  I refuse to own that.  We must all own our own choices, even if culture tells us that it’s got to be someone else’s fault.

But there is something so much deeper than these thoughts and opinions that I need to talk about with you, things I need to tell you.

Whatever you know about this situation may or may not be true, but even that is not my point in this moment.

Because what you see, what you know, is not the real story.

This story is about love.

The love of a mother.

The love of a God who saved that mother.

This mother.

He saved this mother from her herself, her demons, her own pain and destruction.

Over and over again.

And I know that just as He has saved me, He will save my daughter.  Probably not from her own consequences, and that is a good thing….but He can save my daughter from herself, her demons, her own pain and self destruction, just as He did me.  Maybe it sounds like I’m talking about this fantasy pie in the sky that you hear about in other peoples stories, but I promise you, I’m not.  He has already saved her, she just doesn’t know it yet.  He saved her life.  He saved the lives of those in her story.  Literally.  He is real.

But this story is about so much more than what one girl did on a Wednesday afternoon in May.  It is also an acknowledgment of the pain that has been inflicted on the people in my daughters story.  It is a recognition of the impact that this has on my community.

Whatever the details of this case as it moves forward, whatever words and opinions are laid before me, my daughter, my family….whatever happens…I will not be offended by you.  Whether I agree with you or not, I will not argue with you.  I will not entertain the voice in my head, that says that this is my fault.

Because you see, this story is about love.

The love of a mother.

The love of a God who saved that mother.

This mother.

And this mother loves you.

I love my community.

I love this place I call home.

As the only one in this story that can talk to you right now, I must tell you that I am so deeply affected by what has happened.  Please know that this is not trivial to me.  I do not take it lightly.  But please understand, also, that I love my daughter.  However, I will never ask that that love be a reason for lack of consequences.  That love is why, whatever the court decides, when the time comes, I will accept.  Because love without accountability is not love.  It is something else entirely.

I serve a God who redeems.  He saves the deepest and darkest people.  I have seen it over and over again.  He saves the mother and the drug addict.  The doctor and the murderer.  The best and the worst.  He does not care what you do, He will save you anyway.  He will love you anyway.  All that is needed is a yes.  He will save my daughter.  She need only say yes.

So, with a humble heart and an understanding of the thoughts and opinions of this story, may I still be so bold as to ask something of you?  Regardless of how you feel about me or my daughter, would you pray for us?  As my community, would you pray for her?  Because wouldn’t it be better for all of us if she was redeemed?  Would it not be the miracle that we all hope for but are so often to scared to ask for?

Maybe in praying for her, you will find that it’s okay to ask for your own miracle.

Maybe in praying for someone you dislike, you find a kindness and compassion in yourself that is more powerful than you ever knew.

Maybe in praying for a broken girl, your own broken pieces, start to be put back in place.

Maybe in praying for someone you despise, you see a new and beautiful side to the hard people in your own life.

And maybe in praying for this beautiful disaster we will all find our own redemption.

All I know is that my mama’s heart is busted.  Open.  Wide.  I grieve for the road my daughter is going to have to walk.  I grieve over those she has hurt.  The pain of this is like fire.  It burns.  I feel it physically.  I am not immune to the reality that has been thrust upon me.  Upon all of us.  But I know one thing for sure.  This pain is not wasted.  My pain.  Miley’s pain.  Your pain.  It is not for nothing.  So I will be the first.  I will say yes first.  I will allow it to break me open and break me through.  Into hope.  And life.  And love.

Whatever the choice, none of us will ever be the same again…..