Last week, my life took a sudden turn. I’m still trying to think of appropriate metaphors to explain the impact this has had on me, but none of them work. Seismic shifts, blinding storms, whirlwinds, tsunamis, these are all disasters of one magnitude or the other and this change in my life is not a disaster, not for me. Other comparisons, Dorothy stepping from her house into Oz, Wendy discovering Never Neverland, Gulliver meeting the Lilliputians all evoke images of the fantastic, the magical, the otherworldly, and there is nothing remotely magical or otherworldly about this development. So the best I can do is to say that overnight, my life has changed from a much anticipated and long awaited drive in an idyllic countryside to a high speed, rubber burning, bullet dodging car chase through urban streets.

That’s what it feels like at least.

Last week, my husband and I were enjoying scouting the lay of the land as empty-nesters (albeit koo-koo bird empty-nesters, since two of our four kids have boomeranged back home, our youngest, a freshman in college, is home for holidays, our oldest brings her toddler over for babysitting three days a week, and my mother has moved in)…so although our home is not exactly empty, everyone living here is a grown-up. We can leave them. We enjoy leaving them. We leave them on a regular basis. Whenever we want. For as long as we want. Laughing as we go out the door.

Three days ago, Thanksgiving morning, we became the grateful, and greatly fearful, guardians of a fourteen year old fresh out of options for such a short life. She is depressed, anxious, and possibly still suicidal, but I really feel like she is the sanest person in our household. It was her circumstances that were crazy. She is a survivor. Just barely.

I am instantly back in long familiar territory. Braces, morning and afternoon school drops, friends, doctors’ appointments, clubs, sports, three square meals, homework, curfews. I can do this in my sleep. I am also instantly floundering in completely uncharted waters. Suicide watch, pharmaceuticals under lock and key, vitamin deficiencies, cutting, someone else’s child who I don’t know like the back of my hand, whose moods I can’t read, whose inside jokes are outside of our history together. The good news is, maybe we will have some time before snarky, sullen responses and disgusted eye rolling sets in. We have no baggage. The bad news is, how will I keep vigilant enough to know if she’s in danger? I don’t know this child.

I’m trying to live completely in the present. I can’t have expectations of raising her. I’m rooting for her mother. But I can’t be less than a hundred percent in. Her very real and actual life may depend on our commitment. Recovery, reconciliation, and forgiveness- I want these for her, but I also want to protect her from soul-killing imitations. Today I saw genuine and spontaneous joy in one of her smiles. I’m greedy. I want more, but I feel like a thief wanting more. That smile should have been witnessed by another mother. I have been blessed by such a big and consuming family life, that I feel ashamed to throw my whole lot in with another woman’s child. I don’t want to be like King David when Nathan warned him of having everything and still coveting the meager blessing of another. Still another part of me wants my old life back, and knows that when, if, Hannah returns home, I will be relieved. Every day that goes by, these two conflicting emotions will each only grow stronger. How do I live with either one of these desires except to wholeheartedly embrace the present, and trust that every tomorrow is in better, more knowing hands than mine?