The Safe House

The grass had not yet begun to grow on my granddaughter's grave and the memory of my daughter crushing the rose and letting the petals gently fall onto the tiny coffin was fresh on my mind when I got the call. "Mom, will you go with me to the courthouse?" There was a baby that needed to be placed in a Safe House and she wanted to volunteer her home. My first reaction was that I wanted to protect my child from any more heartache than she had already experienced.

We were sitting together in the courthouse corridor when the baby arrived. I will never forget the look of love and joy on my daughter's face when she saw him. When we went before the the judge he asked if anyone had come on behalf of the child. There was no one there except for the two of us. The judge accepted my daughter's offer of her home as a Safe House.

I raised my children in a designated Safe House with the Georgia Department of Family and Children Services that wasn't always safe. My maternal instincts were always to protect my children and to create a happy home for them, but I also had the desire to open my doors to a hurting world and share with others the love of Jesus. I found early on that hurting people will often hurt people, so I tried to teach my children how to live in a broken world with broken people. The truth that I wanted my children to understand was that we never reach down to others, because we are all broken. Instead, we reach across as equals to share the love of the only one who can truly save us, Jesus.

I have a confession to make. Opening my doors was hard.  As a mother, I wanted to put a wing of protection around my children and to keep them safe from the hurtful things I saw around me. I also found that only way I could help anyone was to cry out to the God whose ear is not deaf, and reach out to the God whose arm is not short so that He cannot save. I discovered that I could not protect my children from harm, but that I could teach them to seek shelter beneath the wing of a faithful God.

I was often plagued with the thought that I might have hurt my own children in my desire to share my home with others. This was the theme of many of my prayers as my children were growing up. Now my children have grown. I see now how God answered my prayer when I observe the compassion my children have for the hurting world around them. The decision my husband and I made to open our doors was like a stone cast into the water. I am watching now as ripples of mercy flow from the choices my children make to open their hearts and make a safe place for others.