There. She hides in the shadows. She hides behind her job of success. Ordering and delivering success. She strives to achieve beyond the hurt she has caused. She climbs the ladder proving that she is a benefit to this world. Why can’t she get high enough?
There. She hides in the popular crowd. Her friends gathered around. They love her, want to be her, applaud and compliment her. They have to be right. She has to be good. Just have fun and forget. Why can’t she forget?
There. She is a mom. She buys him new clothes, peels his apples, and kisses his cheeks. She plays with him and claps with him and reads to him daily. She buckles him in and ties his shoes and holds his hand as they walk. Why can’t she love him enough?
There. In the dark they cry. The inner pain that won’t go away. The secret that points its finger and condemns them to daily hell. There is no pain they feel they don’t deserve. Hate is all they have for themselves. The deepest throbbing torture of a sin beyond belief.
Here. My arms beckon. All sin is washed clean. Run to me for relief. Even that. I know of even that. It does not hide from me. But mother of a dead baby, you can never do enough retribution. Give it to me. Here. Here is the only place you can find forgiveness. Here. Here there is no condemnation.