Out of Our Hands
It was September 2024…
We got the call from CPS asking if we knew our son was being flown into our city airport that morning.
No. We did not know.
He was supposed to be flying to another state, where he would meet up with his mentor and guardian. Once again, the plans we had made, plans we believed were in his best interest, were being sabotaged.
It had been several days of complete chaos. After fighting to get our son back to the States, making multiple plans that were continuously shut down with no explanation, we found out he was being deported.
More to that story another day…
We had made arrangements long before that morning for him to be under the supervision and custodial care of someone who had become an important part of our family’s life.
He had walked through so much with us and our son. He truly loved us, and he loved T. He wanted nothing more than to mentor him, help him move past the pain that was disrupting his life, and hopefully find a way to save him.
We were all on the same page, knowing that bringing T back into our home was not safe for us, nor was it what he wanted. If we brought him home, we believed he would run again and do whatever he could to destroy our family.
A truth I would never wish upon any parent…
Knowing you cannot care for your own child in your own home is heartbreaking.
But we had three other children to protect. And in all honesty, we needed to protect T from himself.
He was on a dangerous path, and we had a small window of time left before he turned 18 to find a way to help him out of the downward spiral he was in. We were desperately hoping he could find a better path, praying he would finally recognize his need for help and support.
Plans were made for my husband to pick him up at the airport and meet our friend, who would take him to where he would hopefully live for the next year.
A year of being mentored, working toward graduating high school, finding employment, and learning to live independently. Something T had expressed wanting for a long time.
There was hope in that plan. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this could be a turning point.
Little did we know the chaos that day would bring…
With the help of CPS and law enforcement, my husband safely picked him up at the airport.
But there was one stop requested by CPS before my husband was to meet up with our friend.
We were nervous about making the stop because we knew T’s history and how difficult these conversations could be. At the same time, we wanted to cooperate with the authorities and hoped that, by moving forward with the plan, things would begin to settle into a better path.
CPS believed it would be beneficial to sit down with T and talk through the plan, helping him understand why we all believed this was what was best for him. Their intentions were good. We all wanted the same thing…for T to have a chance at a better future.
It seemed like a reasonable request at the time.
One stop.
That one stop would change the course of the day and the next ten months in ways I could have never imagined.
Our lives were about to explode into a million pieces. We were about to face persecution on a level I could never have prepared myself for.
Had we known that morning what was about to happen, could we have done things differently?
No. It was truly out of our hands.
There were too many people involved at this point. Some with good intentions, but others who, I believe, had hidden agendas, using our son as a pawn in their sick game.
All we could do was focus on what was right in front of us.
The thought of what the next day might bring was simply too much.
We just had to continue trusting the Lord to be with us. Believing in something we could not see. Having faith that we would once again get through whatever was to come.
When people ask me, “What happened?” I never know where to begin.
There is so much. So many details. So many twists and turns.
Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a movie that keeps bouncing between the past and the present.
I get it. Those storylines can be hard to follow.
But hopefully, as I continue sharing, the pieces will begin to come together.
I know this story is fragmented. It’s not in chronological order. But I need to tell it in a way that feels right and authentic to me.
I’m writing from the heart, not the mind.
So stick with me.
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
Matthew 6:34
