Who's Knocking on My Door?

When you live on the East Side of Des Moines and your doorbell rings late at night followed by pounding on the door, a series of thoughts run through your mind in rapid succession that would probably leave you paralyzed if that same incessant ringing and pounding didn't jar you from your thoughts.
Tonight, when Danny opened the porch door, we found on the other side a mom in her early 20s, smelling of alcohol and obviously upset, with her slightly less than Lily-sized baby boy in a car seat asking to use our phone. The events that followed are incredibly jumbled in my mind but I will do my best to recount them accurately. As LONG as this post is, it is but a summary of all that we discussed and all that occurred.
This is not the first time this has happened (our "prime" location lends itself to unsolicited visitors) and, out of habit, I offered to call someone for her on my cell phone. The person did not answer and I am thankful because it gave me an opportunity to dig a little more into what was happening.
We asked her to come in to the porch with her baby where it was warmer and she did so somewhat reluctantly. I gave her my phone and she made 15 calls on my phone (most of them unanswered) before the battery died and she switched to using Danny's to make even more than that. A couple of the calls did go through and I gathered a lot of what was going on from those conversations. Yes, I was eavesdropping, and I have no regrets. When someone shows up with a small child on my porch late at night and seems slightly intoxicated and upset, I want to know what is going on. Why? Well, of course I am concerned for the safety of that child. And, I am concerned for this girl and what brought her literally to my doorstep. Ultimately, I know that it was God who brought her there, and I was able to share that with her, but I was wanting to know what she thought brought her to my doorstep.
During the moments between calls and the time we waited for the police to bring her the purse that was somehow in the possession of her "baby daddy" (a.k.a BD), I got to know Alexis a little more. I am not sure if it was the alcohol or her attempt to process what she was experiencing in life that caused the inconsistency in her explanations that varied from things that seemed a little off to flat out lies, but I tried to piece together from the conversations she had with me and others "who's knocking on my door".
When she came in, I asked her what happened and she told me that she was kicked out of her house because of a fight with her BD over a high school ex and then another fight with someone she referred to as her aunt (whom I later learned was her former foster mother). I discovered later -and she later admitted- that she hadn't been kicked out but had instead just left the house because of the argument.
Since she couldn't reach the BD who had the purse/diaper bag, and I was under the impression that she couldn't return to the "aunt"'s house, I asked her if she knew of anywhere else she and the baby could go and told her we could take her there if needed. She couldn't reach any of them either. She finally got in touch with the BD who hung up on her more than once. Eventually, it was revealed that her "aunt" had called the police and that they were picking up her purse and then bringing it to her. That all sounded strange to me, but her need to wait for the purse gave me more time to talk with her.
I asked her more about what she would do after the purse arrived (because I was afraid she might just walk out into the cold night with nowhere to go) and how we could help her accomplish that(the whole time praying for God to give me wisdom for how to reach out to her) and she kept insisting that I wouldn't understand because her mother had been murdered and her father was a drug addict, etc. I agreed with her that I probably wouldn't understand what her life was like and that if that was going to continue to be her excuse to not let me help her then I wasn't sure what progress we could make. I think me calling her out on it threw her off a little bit because she apologized and calmed down. I explained to her that few, if any, people out there would really understand if by understand she meant be able to relate to because of a previous identical experience (much less have an available porch at 11:00 at night). She laughed at that.
I then reminded her that I didn't go out on the street, drag her into my house late at night and beg her to use our cell phone. I reminded her that she chose to knock on our door and that, if she was willing to let us help by using our cell phone and our porch, she had nothing to lose by letting us try to help with her other needs. I shared with her that I cared about her and her son and wasn't going to give up trying to find a way to help. Again, a little bluntness seemed to go a long way, because she calmed down again and shared more.
She told me about her childhood and her relationship with the BD, who was definitely not a helpful influence in her life. She told me how embarrassed she was and that she didn't want her son to grow up like this (homeless and without a daddy). I told her that different results happen because of different choices, not different hopes. If she wanted him to have a better life, she needed to start making different choices. I was trying to get her to see that the problem was bigger than the moment and deeper than the surface.
I told her that if she really wanted things to change, it would take more than could be accomplished in one night on my porch. I asked if she would be willing to let me help her beyond this incident. She bristled a little at my offer of "help", which she was reluctant to admit she needed beyond the use of a cell phone. She countered that things weren't that bad, she had a good job, thousands of dollars with which she could secure housing and that everything would be fine in the morning. I asked her if in the morning her son would be in a happy, stable home with a mom and dad who love each other, love him and love the baby she was currently expecting. She agreed that he would not and that she probably did need help. I was pleasantly surprised. I could almost see her "push people who are trying to get close to me" coping mechanism trigger anytime I tried to suggest that her life wasn't perfect or that she needed anything she couldn't provide for herself. She had informed me that she was a "good person" and that the solution to the problem was a new BD. I asked her how she knew the next one wouldn't turn on her like this one had. I suggested that maybe the solution she needed wasn't going to be found in any other human, not even in herself. I asked her more about being a "good" person. I told her that I wouldn't deem myself a good person because I do selfish things, I have lied and hurt people, etc. My confession seemed to disarm her and she admitted that she would not classify herself as a good person either. I hope you don't misunderstand, I wasn't trying to kick her while she was down. I was just wanting her to realize why, ultimately, all of us are "down" so that she would see that she needed more than a new BD, she needed rescued by her Creator God. I later told her plainly that she needed Christ.
The purse was taking a long time arriving, thankfully, so we kept talking. Not knowing when the purse would arrive and our time would be up, I told her that I really wanted to talk about how her life, and her babies' lives, could be different. This was our point of agreement so I went from there. I told her that the change I thought she needed was to find her help in God, not another BD or the police or foster care or anything like that. I asked her if she would be willing to go to church with me or meet with me again. I shared with her that all of us, though maybe not to her extent, have pain and sadness in our lives and that she will not find the answer she is seeking apart from God and her son will become his father if she continues on her present path. She started crying and responded, "I know". I was heartbroken.
I asked her if she would be willing to learn more about what God wanted to do with her life and the hope she could have in Him and she said that her uncle was a pastor and he died - she told me this many times. It didn't answer the question, but it did evade it. I asked the question again. She admitted that she was mad at God and that she was content that way. I asked her how that (shutting God out because she was mad at him) was working for her right about now. She got a little embarrassed smile and admitted that it wasn't going so well. She then asked several questions like, "Why did he give me this baby when I was too young for it?". I reminded her that she had a significant role in the choice that got her pregnant and that God often allows us to experience hardship because unpleasant consequences lead us to make better choices. I also told her that I thought it was possible that God was allowing her life to get so desperate that she would realize how much she needed Him. I told her that I believed that God brought her to my porch so I could share with her how He loved her and wanted to change her life. I had already shared with her some of how God worked through Christ to provide her with what she truly needed, but wanted to go beyond. I asked if I could call her to check in on her and the baby and she gave me a phone number (at the house she had just left - so not the best), and as I was giving her mine the police showed up.
They took her outside to talk (apparently the "aunt" had described a much different and more accurate series of events to the police and they needed to deal with her privately) and for a few special moments we were able to pray for her and her baby while he gazed up at us from his car seat, completely oblivious to the fact that his mom was in serious danger of being separated from him more permanently. I didn't want her to go yet, but I really didn't want to let him go. Eventually the officer came back, though Alexis never did and she left without the paper that had my phone number on it. The officer asked some questions and shared more information with us. Alexis and her baby, most likely, would return to the nearby home she chose to leave. And we could return to what we were doing before Alexis landed on our porch.
Or maybe we couldn't. Moments like that take a toll on your heart. I will be praying for Alexis and her children. I will be wondering about the baby she is carrying now, wondering where she and her little boy are living, wondering if she is considering what we discussed.
And I will be watching. You might catch me every once in a while looking out my porch windows to see if she happens to be coming back to talk more about the Gospel and God's great love for her.
And I will be waiting...