Hope Deferred

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but desire fulfilled is a tree of life." Proverbs 13:12

Today is one year since I last saw or even spoke with my only child -- my precious daughter, Adessa.

There are no words to describe the depth of pain her absence leaves behind. It is sorrow, agony, longing, torture, unanswered questions, anger, confusion, and numbness all wrapped up into one. I've long ago stopped trying to make sense of it. None of it makes sense.

The last day I spent with Adessa was an absolute joy. I wrote about it a year ago and anyone can read all about it here on this blog. We went to church together, went to lunch with some of our dearest friends, played together, and, as we always did, just had a blast.

These snapshots are the final pictures I have of Adessa; they were taken that last day at a restaurant in Davenport, IA. Not the greatest quality as I took them with my BlackBerry, but I'm glad to have them despite the blurriness. Seeing those pics brings me right back to being there. She was having a great time with one of her very best friends, Ashlann. I'm still so grateful for how Ashlann and other friends from church made Adessa feel like family. She loved going to church in part because it meant she would get to spend time with them.

Sometimes, Ashlann or one of her other little friends will ask me about Adessa. They tell me they miss her. "I miss her, too," I say.

I love Adessa more than anything or anyone on this earth and I would give my life for her. I would give anything to bring her back. Lord knows I have tried. I, along with hundreds of friends and family, have prayed ceaselessly for this travesty to end and there were times when that seemed very close to happening. Yet here we are at a one-year anniversary of something I would not have anticipated in my worst nightmares.

During this year, I have experienced both unfathomable cruelty and unbelievable kindness from others. I've seen both the worst and the best of people. It has taught me a great deal about what it means to be a friend to people when they are at their lowest (I'll share more about that in the coming months). But most of all, it has taught me patience in knowing that God's timing is not our own. He sees the end from the beginning. He saw this coming before Adessa was even born. He cares for her more than I or any other human being could ever possibly be capable of caring for her. And I am not hopeless -- far from it. I -- along with hundreds of others -- pray constantly for the Lord to restore all that has been lost and more. We pray full of hope -- the "hope deferred" referred to in Proverbs 13:12 -- with the end in sight, waiting for the fulfillment of that desire.

We pray believing in that. Absolutely. It will happen. It will be glorious. I think my heart might burst with joy when I hold her in my arms again.

Aside from one entry last September, I stopped writing in this blog after writing to and about Adessa constantly for more than a year. I just couldn't bring myself to do it -- it was such a painful reminder of all that had been lost. I'm choosing to write again because I want to be clear: I love Adessa. She is my daughter and always will be. I am proud of her. I miss her dearly.

Adessa is not a possession to be fought over, a prize to be won, or a resource to be hoarded. She is a human being with dignity and God-given rights, deserving of unconditional love, security, and the opportunity to be the best person she can be. I will not stop praying for her and I will never give up on her. I have always been and always will be her Daddy and long for the day when I can embrace her and again tell her "I love you" face-to-face.