Today,

I watched the rest of Session 2 of the Beth Moore study of Esther with two of the local ladies.  The whole time we watched, I had spirit bumps all over me.  Why?  Because Beth focused so heavily on Esther being an orphan.  A child who lost her momma.  Then the mention of her losing her father as well.  Those who loved her fiercely. My mind would drift off to D and his little brother.  Their first touch from the people who were suppose to love them well and love them most were not pleasant ones.  I think of D being a victim of shaken baby, autistic, nonverbal.  I think that he hasn't known the love of a mommy and daddy for what will be 5 years now.  Then I think of his mom and dad.  Not my man and I but the ones who gave him life.  We know that his mom called three different times when he went into the orphanage to check on him.  But three times was just too much.  3 times was all her heart could possibly take in knowing that damage had been done to her son by her own or his father's hands.  My heartaches for them.  Little brother has suffered a similar fate in being removed from the home.  We don't know if he has any other issues right now, but at 18 months old, all he knows from his mom and dad is sadness.  My mind drifted to so many others across the world who have suffered the same fate.  The loss of a parent or parents one way or another.  Either by death or because of choices they have made - to save the child's life because they couldn't provide and would have died because of starvation, because alcohol and drugs were a demon to great to conquer and they had no one who cared to help them out of the snare that entrapped them, or just because they didn't want to raise them.  Some days, this burden of "knowing" is all too much.  Today was one of those days.  My son is in a place that we believe is good.  He has good caregivers.  He has gotten different therapies to help him be the best he can be.  Yet, he's never known the love of a mom and dad who love him.  I have sat here and wondered today what his reaction will be to the words mommy and daddy.  Will he be happy to have our hands lift him and hug him?  Will he accept our reached out hands and know they are safe by grasping it and holding on?  Will he accept freely the love and support and kisses that we have stored up in ourselves for him? Or will he recoil from those words, our hands, our hugs, support, kisses, the love we long to express?  I know we won't know these answers until we physically see him.  but the questions were raised for me today.  These questions are raised because of those who will never accept them because of the hurts that flowed from the hands that were suppose to protect and love them.  Not just my son.  But for the millions of children who have lost.  Who wait.

Today, it was just to much for my heart to take.  The tears flow... and it's still too much.

STWTHE,
Laurie