One month ago today, I went about my day in a daze. I remember that I held the boy who made me a momma for his last two naps he’d take in our home, we took a million photos and videos of him, and played a new game we discovered where we’d poke our head through the railings of our split level home; he thought it was the funniest thing.
We went to a park that day, and we fed him right before in the car. I watched him as he ate his bottle in Ty’s arms while his little toes tried to grab the straws in our Starbucks cups. We prayed over him while he was eating. We begged that God would protect him, that He’d bless him, that He would keep him, and that He makes His face shine upon him and would be gracious to him. We prayed for his resilience and that he’d be supernaturally protected from the loss of being moved from our home; that he would never once question if he’s wanted, loved or cherished. And we prayed that he’d continue to thrive in his new home, just as he did with us.
I remember we came home, fed him his favorite Once Upon A Farm flavor; he squeezed the pouch too hard and it ended up spilling on him so I changed him into his tiger romper. I’m so thankful I did because I now have those clothes on my dresser.
And then at 4:30, I triple checked that we had everything we wanted to send him with from his 10 months with us packed into the blue duffel bag he arrived with on November 8. We loaded him into the car, and I sat in the back seat with him as we drove 20 minutes to where we’d end up passing him off and saying goodbye in between our sobs. He didn’t understand though, he looked at us and smiled as I stroked his hair one last time and tried to memorize every detail about him that I could through tears.
I never would have thought I could survive the rest of the day let alone a whole month of the pain, but I have. Somehow. I’m not really sure what’s “next” for us… maybe we’ll start by putting his things away that haven’t been touched since he left at some point. But we haven’t even gotten that far, let alone talked through or decided what we should be doing “next”.
There’s not very many things I understand right now about the whole thing. Like why over 10 months passed when the babe could have been placed elsewhere or even moved so much earlier. Why God didn’t answer our prayers in the way we thought He would. Or how suffering and God’s goodness fit together.
But what I do know and understand is that there will be a day that I will get to live with Jesus. And He will wipe every tear, there will be no more pain or sorrow, and He will make everything new. And that is where my hope is found.
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