Showing posts with label orphans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label orphans. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

noapte buna

Tonight this picture came up on my screensaver:

For some reason as soon as I saw it I got emotional and had to fight back tears. Maybe it is because the way sweet Delia is sleeping reminds me of how Baby G sleeps. And maybe it is because I almost cannot stand the thought that Delia has to fall asleep alone. Maybe it is because she is sleeping on dirty sheets. Maybe it is because there isn't anyone to cover her up. Maybe it's because she doesn't have a favorite blankie to hold for comfort. Maybe it is because she doesn't have anyone to come pick her up when she wakes up from her nap. Whatever the reason, my heart is aching and heavy tonight.

Sometimes I feel like Alma when he wishes to be an angel to cry repentance (Alma 29), but this would be my cry instead: "O that I were an angel, and could have the wish of mine heart, that I might go forth to the corners of the earth where babies are lonely and pick them up, give them kisses, hold them close, and rock them to sleep. O that I were an angel and could take away their suffering, could ease their sorrows, and could bring them peace. O that I were an angel."

I remember feeling so sad at times when I was in the thick of all of the suffering in Romania. But I expected that. I knew I would see tragedy and I knew I would feel heartache. I also was IN Romania and I felt like I was doing something about it, which lifted my burden a little. I also believe that we were blessed with an endowment of peace in order to go about our work while we were there. What I didn't know was that the sorrow I felt there would never leave me-- that it, in fact, would be stronger at times after returning home. Even three years later (almost to the day) the heartache I feel every once in awhile catches me completely off guard. It can hit when there is a big snow storm, or when I am playing with my baby, or when I see a picture on my computer screen. The hardest part for me now is that there isn't much I can do about it.

Of course I can be rational about it, and I know that there are seasons in life. My two seasons in Romania have come and gone, and that was the Lord's plan for me. The season of my life now is to be a wife and mother. And I adore this season. I wouldn't trade being a wife to my dear husband or a mama to my sweet baby for anything else in the world, not even to be back in Romania. But that doesn't mean that I don't still ache to be able to do more to help. If anything, being in this new season and having my own family has only intensified my knowledge that I need to do more, that each of us has a sacred obligation to reach out in our own capacities and spheres of influence. And I guess that is the key, isn't it?

Sometimes I need a wake-up call like a picture of a sleeping orphan to remind me that, though I cannot be in Romania right now, I can and should be doing more right here in my own backyard. That is the way I can do my part right now, and that service is every bit as needed and valuable and life-changing as any other service I've ever done or will ever do. I'll do better if you'll do better, okay? Let's make a difference where we can. I think that would make Delia very happy.

Sweet dreams, baby girl.

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

all orphans go to heaven

Costica (1999-2008)
(his Bartman sweater makes me smile every time I look at this picture)
(he was always going around asking everyone if they wanted a massage and then he would dutifully give your shoulders a few squeezes followed by his signature karate chopping action)

Now you can rest, sweet boy.
Now you have family.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

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