Love

As moms, when our children hurl the "worst mom in the world" or "meanest mom in the world" insult at us, we kind of do a celebratory dance.  It means we're doing our jobs right.  Most likely, we've said no to something that is dangerous or just plain not good for our children, or we've forced them into some sort of child labor camp that will grow hair on their chests.  Being the worst mom in the world means we love our children enough to be 'mean.'  Is it ever fun having to be the bad guy?  Do we always feel good afterward?  Nope.  But it means we love 'em.

If being the worst mom in the world means we've done something right in the world of parenting, what does that say about being the worst friend in the world?

Sometimes being an adult just really--well, it just really sucks.  I had to put on my big girl panties this week and be the World's Meanest Best Friend.  It was not a decision that came easily, or without a lot of prayer.  I love my friend dearly.  She and her family are so precious to me.  Because of that, I could no longer just sit back and watch what is being allowed to happen.  It is not a matter of me disapproving of lifestyle choices or passing judgement on my friend, it's knowing the difference between right and wrong, knowing when a family is too close to the edge, it's knowing when to say enough is enough, this is wrong and it needs to stop before someone else gets hurt.  This is a matter of me loving my friend and her family, a matter of it just being too painful to not actively do something.  I love my friend and her family, and it is killing me to watch her do this to herself.  God tells us to love one another as He first loved us; my dear friend is the one who reminded me of this so many years ago. She is the one who led me back down the path I belonged on, loved me through it and held my hand.  To see her stray from this path we joined each other on just hurts.

This family has been hit by tragedy that no family should ever have to face.  From there, they took a cannonball off a cliff.  I cannot tell my friend how to grieve, I cannot tell her how to raise her children, but I most certainly can tell her when she has her head jammed in an anatomically impossible part of her body.  Because she has refused to listen to reason, because she has continued to go down the wrong path, because of what I know and what I've seen, and because I love her as much as I do, I had to make a very difficult phone call.  I had to report my friend.  It broke my heart and I cried the entire time I spoke with the caseworker (who, God bless him, was a very compassionate, patient and understanding gentleman), but I know it was time.  I think I've known it for a few weeks.

I've convinced myself she will figure out it was me and that she will hate me.  I feel as though as I've betrayed her and her trust.  I would hate myself too, but I know that I would hate myself even more if something else happens.  I can't help but wonder if one of us had stepped in sooner, would things be different for her other children?  We all claimed to love the family and want what was best, but instead of telling them where they had their heads jammed, we whispered, we shook our heads in disbelief, we blocked Facebook pages, we ignored texts and phone calls.  What if???  None of us can change what has already happened.  Sadly, we can't go back.  And oh, how I do wish we could.  We can move forward though.  And what I've found is a huge sigh of relief; many people knew the call needed to be made, but no one wanted to be the one to do it.  Now the first step has been taken.

So, I am the meanest friend in the world.  Because I love my friend too much not to be.

*Please note that I do not mean this as gossip or anything else other than a need to get it out of my head.  And maybe there's someone else out there who had to do a horrible, awful thing and needs reassurance that it was the right thing?