Friday, November 14, 2014

God Will Add

You came to us tonight.  Much too late for a little one like you to be awake.  You were tired and hungry.  You munched on goldfish and drank milk while we signed stacks of papers.  Papers that define your past, but not your future.

You came with this bag.  I saw it, and my heart broke.  Everything you own fit inside: a few changes of clothes and two toys.  No wipes or diapers.  No cups or extra shoes.  No blanket or pillow.  Your past was in that bag, but not your future.


We rummage through it to find pajamas.  Only one pair in the whole bag.  One.  As I dress you for bed, you struggle and cry.  To you I am just another stranger in a long line of strangers that have come and gone in your short life.  Some have been kind.  Many have not.  I am sure you are wondering what kind we will be.

I tuck you in.  You look at me, study me, then try to get up.

"No.  It's bedtime."

You whimper.

"Would you like me to sit with you."

You stare.  I take that as a yes.  I sit beside your bed and pat your back.  Your eyelids flutter as you fight sleep with every fiber of your being.  I pray for you to feel safe.  For you to sleep.

As I pat your back I wonder how many times I will have this privilege.  Will you be with us for a month?  A year?  Forever? 

I pray with all my might.  Just the first of many to be offered up to our loving God.  And finally you surrender to sleep.

Your name means "God will add."  Dear one, we pray God will add you to our forever family.  Until then, I will pat your back every night.  I will bathe you, play with you, protect you. 

I will love you everyday you are my son - starting today.