Four flat tires

I remember the day I first saw the inside of a baseball. My brother had a ball with stitches coming out. He decided to take the whole thing apart. I never imagined that it would be tightly wound yarn over a round cork. I was amazed. That wasn't what I had imagined being inside a baseball. I don't know what I thought was under the leather, but that certainly wasn't it.

Just the other day I was given another surprise - the inner recesses of a simple bedroom door. I knew they were hollow. I had attempted to attach items to doors with little success but I never thought beyond their hollowness. I guess I'm easily stupefied.

Maybe, for most people, the bigger question is how a bedroom door would come to look this way.

Let me try to explain it through a short analogy a friend (another adoptive mom by the way, go figure) shared with me the other day.

For most of us, if we are driving along and one of our car's tires runs over a nail and becomes flat, our response would be to stop, fix the problem, and continue on our way. We would think it ridiculous if someone pulled over and proceeded to punch holes in the other three tires thereby rendering the car useless.

For children suffering from trauma, however, the second situation is life's reality. They aren't thinking through this, "Oh, I see I have a flat tire, I think I'll make all of my tires flat now." They can't explain what they are doing or why they are doing this. It just happens. And afterward, they look at the devastation they caused with just as much surprise as we do. Except now they add it as another layer of shame and anger and disgust. The same brain pathways that went from one flat tire to four in 10 seconds flat, will do so again in the future with the same shock and awe as the previous time. And now, they might even punch out all of the tires in the closest-parked stranger's (or, more likely, family member's) car as well.

It takes years of loving care, of never giving up, of accepting four flat tires with the same love and respect (and sometimes a blind eye) as if it were just one that had been fixed and now we can all go on our way. It takes years of healing, of attempting to heal, of messing up, and starting over. It means understanding that when you say yes to family, family is forever, no matter what. When you say yes to befriending someone, it means sticking with them forever. It means boundaries and tough decisions and it means loving and not worrying about the outcome. It means being confident of your identity in Christ so you can help someone else find theirs. A person could go through life alone, always puncturing all four tires and picking up the pieces themselves, but why should they? Jesus always went toward the mess, offering again and again to help fix all of the tires. He didn't turn His back or run away from the ugly, the imperfect, and the difficult. We need to do the same.

Look around you. If you look, you will find the people who go from one flat tire to four. Deep down, they're struggling. They feel unlovable. They're afraid; all negative behaviors are rooted in fear. They need followers of Jesus who aren't afraid to stand with them as they replace all four tires - again.

Will you walk into the mess? If trauma is the mission field of our day, are you ready to join the work?