The Three Crosses

I found a church I had never attended before. Behind it was a cement slab with three steel crosses standing tall and still. It was set back from the busy highway, surrounded by green grass, with a stream running quietly through the middle. In the evenings, when the church was closed and the world felt too heavy, I would go there to be alone with God.

One cool night, I laid down on the warm cement and felt my body slowly relax. I looked up at the clouds and began talking to God, because that was where I felt Him the most. I watched the clouds shift and change, noticing their shapes and wondering what He was trying to show me.

At that time, my children had been kept from me, even though I still had custody rights and had done nothing wrong. Any mother who has been separated from her children knows that kind of pain is not ordinary pain. It is the kind that lives in your chest, follows you into every room, and makes even breathing feel hard some days.

As I stared into the sky, the clouds began to look like small children. Then, as they changed shape, they seemed to look hurt, frightened, and abused. The sight disturbed me deeply, and I started to cry. I got into my car and began driving back to my mother’s house, where I was living at the time.

As I drove down the highway, changing lanes through my tears, I cried out, “God, if I’m not going to be with my children, then just take me. I don’t want to be here without them.”

Then, as I checked my mirrors and looked behind me to change lanes again, I heard him say, “I want My children too.”

In that moment, I broke down even more. But it was not only from grief. It was because I suddenly understood that God knew exactly what I was feeling. He knew the ache of wanting His children close. He knew the sorrow of watching them hurt and not being able to reach them the way his heart longed to. For the first time, I did not feel completely alone in my suffering.

To every mother who has been kept from her children, who has cried in silence, prayed in desperation, and wondered if anyone truly understands, I want you to know that I do. That kind of heartbreak changes you. It humbles you. It brings you to your knees. But even there, God can meet you. I only wish I had known Him sooner, so I could have taught my children about the one who was holding me together when I felt like I was falling apart.

by DK Family Court