Parenting is a privilege and delight. It can also be challenging. Parenting in a different culture adds to that. There have been many moments in life where I have felt helpless, especially as a mom. Two stand out in my mind.
One of my most frantic moments happened when our kids were little. We were in the Middle East and lived on the fourth floor of an apartment building. I had just stepped outside our door to tell the boys not to yell on the stairs when the wind blew the door shut. My two little daughters were stuck inside. My youngest had been sick with roseola and was sleeping in her crib. My two-and-a-half-year-old was inside, standing by the door. I was trying to coach her how to open the door by turning the key that was in the lock. She kept turning it, but I couldn’t tell which way. We still couldn’t get the door open. She was giving me updates through the keyhole. She told me that the baby was now crying in her crib and said, “Don’t worry. I gave her a toy to play with.” Did she throw it in bed with her? What toy was it? Was it heavy? Did it hit her? Was she bleeding? Was it so small that she could choke on it? I went next door to see if I could cross over from our neighbor’s balcony to ours. It was too far and the possibility of falling was high. We sent for a locksmith. We waited two hours. TWO HOURS! I chatted with my daughter through the door, trying to hide my desperation to get in. I wanted an axe. I was ready to chop down the door. The locksmith finally came and had to cut out part of the door to get us in. But I finally got in and both girls were fine, thank God. I have never left our home without keys in my pocket since then!
The second incident that pushed me towards desperation happened a few years later. We had recently moved into a fifth-floor apartment in our city of about 15 million people. I was home with the youngest. The three older children had walked to a nearby store, located on a circle just down the street. Our street was one of about 5 streets coming from that one circle. My ten-year-old left the store to come home. He thought that his eight-year-old brother and five-year-old sister would know the way back. They didn’t. My husband wasn’t home. When they didn’t come home soon after him, I left to quickly get them. The man at the store said that they had left. As I walked, I asked strangers, “Have you seen two foreign children?” “Yes, they were walking and crying as they came down this street.” I kept walking and asking until further down that street no one had seen them. I felt sick with fear. Heart pounding, I went home to call Don to come home so we could drive the car and search for them more quickly. I returned home to find our phone wasn’t working.
As I was walking downstairs to use our neighbor’s phone, I heard foot steps coming up the stairs. I saw my children’s tear‑streaked faces. They told me how they had gotten confused with the circle and weren’t sure on which street our home was located. However, my son knew the way home from a major road where there was a Kentucky Fried Chicken. So, he hailed a taxi and told him where to go. After taking them to the wrong restaurant, he brought them to the correct place. My son paid a pittance to the kind driver—he could have paid more but didn’t want to use up all his allowance! From there they then knew their way home. As I saw them on the stairway, my heart flooded with relief. I think it was a while before I let them go out again!
I hate that feeling of helplessness. Unable to open the locked door. Incapable of finding my two little kids in such a big city. Trying and failing, looking and praying, waiting for help to come.
I remembered though, that in my helplessness God was there. I knew I needed him. I was confident that he was present with them and with me. I was aware that he was all-powerful. There was nothing I could do, but God was more than able. Feeling stressed and fearful, I prayed.
I remember praying for the door to open as I waited. I prayed as I walked, trying to find my kids. Though scared, worried, and helpless—I wasn’t hopeless because God was near. The psalmist wrote:
We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield.
In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name.
May your unfailing love be with us, LORD, even as we put our hope in you.
Psalm 33:20-22
I would hate to relive those moments. But I remember them. Because there have been other times where helplessness threatened to overwhelm my soul. When the situation looked impossible. When nothing I thought of could help. When we didn’t know where we would go or what we could do.
When waiting for doors to open, the lost to be found, or any time desperation beckons—we may feel helpless. But we are never totally helpless because God is our help. We wait in hope for the Lord.
There is always hope because there is always God.
Screams In The Desert 
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