Love Doesn’t Need Perfect – Lusanne’s Story
As the oldest daughter in a family of seven children my journey into motherhood began at a very early age. I was three years old when my mother gave birth to twins and it was at this time that my sense of responsibility for the care and nurture of others began in earnest. I didn’t mind. I loved babies and children and I still do. But looking back I now see that as I took on more and more responsibility as a child my view of what made me valuable and acceptable was heavily shaped by my ability to cope with all that was expected of me.
My childhood was challenging but the chaos of our large and dysfunctional family was sporadically interrupted by time spent with my maternal grandmother. She was a sweet, elegant and practical woman. Her standards were high but I found solace in the calm, quiet refinement of her immaculate home. I dreamed of growing up, getting married, raising a family and having a home like hers filled with beautiful things.
By the time I was in my early twenties I had achieved all that my younger self had dreamed of. I was married with three beautiful girls. I lived in a beautiful home filled with lovely things. I prided myself on being the mother that hosted the perfect birthday party, baked cakes from scratch, and was always willing to help out a neighbour or friend. As my daughters got older I was so pleased that our relationship remained strong and close.
We welcomed our first foster child into our home more than 20 years ago. My daughters loved having a baby in the house and I relished the opportunity to pour out love into the life of a little one who needed it so much. Over the next 10 years my home became a haven for more than 21 children, some for a few days others for much longer.
In 2002, three-week-old twins Alexandra & Bella (not their real names) came into my life. They were beautiful, fragile and very unwell. As the months and then years unfolded it became clear that both girls were facing significant health challenges, particularly Bella. Caring for the girls left me emotionally, physically and mentally exhausted. Their health and development needs were complex and I was woefully unsupported by the government agencies that were supposed to resource me. Navigating ordinary household tasks like grocery shopping, and meal preparation became mammoth undertakings, let alone getting to and from numerous medical appointments, hospital visits and therapy sessions. My beautiful home was now filled with medical and therapy equipment and I had little time or energy for anything other than the absolute essentials. My world became smaller and smaller.
In the midst of this journey my relationship with those closest to me started to falter. The unrelenting intensity of care that the twins required meant that I had very little to give to anyone else. I, who had always revelled in my identity as the wife, mother and woman of infinite capacity had reached my limit. The woman who had always been the answer to everyone else’s crisis or challenge was now the one who needed rescuing.
Things really hit rock bottom when I suffered a brain aneurism and spent two weeks in hospital. I was in a dark and desperate place. Although my own health challenges were pressing I realised that the more significant challenge was a spiritual one. As my life was stripped back to the bare bones I was forced to confront issues of value and identity that I had avoided for years. The legacy of a chaotic childhood marked by abuse and instability had led to coping mechanisms that were elaborate and deeply entrenched. Caring for the twins and struggling with my own health meant that these coping mechanisms were not just shaken they were now totally shattered.
I had been a Christian for many years but I had still lived with an underlying sense of unworthiness. Rejection and shame from experiences in my childhood continued to taunt me, driving me to continually try and prove that I was worthy of love; that I had value. I had forgiven those who had wounded me in my past but I realised that I had not allowed God to heal and restore me.
In the months that followed I opened myself up to God in a way that I had not been able to before. As I sought healing through prayer and counselling I found freedom. I felt God surround me like a blanket of protection and peace. He reminded me that I was his treasure, the apple of his eye and held securely in the palm of his hand. I had heard these words before but I now I knew them to be true! The more I have been able to grasp the infinite depth of God’s love for me the more I have been able to become a conduit for that love to flow through me to others. It is God’s perfect love that heals and restores. It is His love, not my efforts that bring abundant life.
