prayer of the children

To me there is something almost sacred about rocking a baby to sleep. Holding all that innocence, all the trust in their eyes, feeling their body relax, watching their eyelids get heavier and heavier until they finally stay shut. That is heaven to me.

Why do Romanian orphans never get that?

Having a baby of my own has made my heart ache in ways that it never has before. I now am beginning to realize really how very much babies need a mommy and daddy.

Baby G is an angel, and truly is hardly ever just fussy. But still, he is a baby. And sometimes babies just need a little extra--

A few nights ago it was a little tricky to get Baby G to latch on and eat because he was both so tired and hungry that he couldn't quite figure it out.

Who takes that extra time for orphans?

When I went to lay Baby G down last night he woke up and immediately started to cry (which he normally doesn't do). I picked him up and he quickly buried his little face in my neck and fell fast asleep. He just needed an extra cuddle.

Who does that for orphans?

All the middle of the night feedings-- do orphans go hungry until morning?

Baby G gets uncomfortable and spits up if i don't burp him good enough. I can't remember ever once seeing anyone burp those orphan babies. Who does it? No one?

Why?

Why did my Baby G come to parents who adore him, who love him so much it hurts, who take care of his every need and want almost to a fault? And why was the Baby G in Romania born there, to parents who, for whatever reason, couldn't or wouldn't take care of him?

I have no answers. I don't think I'll ever come to terms with this horrific injustice in this lifetime.
But what I do know is that I'll keep holding my Baby G when he cries, I'll keep picking him up when he whimpers, I'll keep burping him long enough even in the middle of the night, and I'll keep loving him so much it hurts.

And I'll keep praying that somehow, by some miracle, someone is doing those same things for Baby G in Romania, too.

Va iubesc, copii fara mama.

Can you hear the prayer of the children on bended knee, in the shadow of an unknown room? Empty eyes with no more tears to cry turning heavenward toward the light.

Crying Jesus help me to see the mornin' light of one more day, but if I should die before I wake, I pray my soul to take.

Can you feel the hearts of the children aching for home, for something of their very own. Reaching hands with nothing to hold onto but hope for a better day, a better day.

Crying Jesus help me to feel the love again in my own land, but if unknown roads lead away from home, give me loving arms, away from harm.

Can you hear the voice of the children softly pleading for silence in their shattered world? Angry guns preach a gospel full of hate, blood of the innocent on their hands.

Crying Jesus, help me to feel the sun again upon my face? For when darkness clears, I know you're near, bringing peace again.

Can you hear the prayer of the children?
Lyrics written by Kurt Bestor