To the other mother, beloved
6 years ago you labored.
You labored to bring forth our son. In pain, maybe alone, maybe surrounded by family-- I may never know--- you worked and sweated and stretched and groaned to bring forth this son of ours.
How will I ever know the depths of your pain and fear?
I know you were hoping to be made well, that all would be made well.
I hope and pray that what we have to offer is well enough.
He is happy.
In the morning he will awake to balloons and presents and he will literally wriggle with joy at the celebration in his honor. At the honor of being 6. He has surpassed third-world odds, he has made it past 5. He is healthy and strong, quickly outgrowing his older brother. He has heard three languages and is still learning the nuances of ours. He is an adoring younger brother and doting older brother. He loves Jesus and has the trusting faith of one who has not undergone trial. But trials he has undergone, and survived. And flourished.
His laugh will bring a smile to any face. His dimples are beautiful to behold.
His hair is dark and tightly curled, and he is tender-headed.
He loves bread, and chicken on the bone.
He swims like a fish.
He knows your name.
I do not know if he will think of you tomorrow. He is at that wonderfully egotistical age where everything and anything can be and must be about him. He will play with new presents and old friends and I do not know if Ethiopia will be on his mind.
But you are in my heart. You-- you trusted, and had faith, and gave of the very best you had so that something better could come. I pray you are well, and resting in His peace. I pray that one day we will all dance together, and your dimples will match his dimples and we will just all dance because what else is there to do in the presence of never-ending all encompassing Love? The time for mourning will be gone. These tears will be gone. The time for dancing will be upon us forever and forever.
Thank you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
You labored to bring forth our son. In pain, maybe alone, maybe surrounded by family-- I may never know--- you worked and sweated and stretched and groaned to bring forth this son of ours.
How will I ever know the depths of your pain and fear?
I know you were hoping to be made well, that all would be made well.
I hope and pray that what we have to offer is well enough.
He is happy.
In the morning he will awake to balloons and presents and he will literally wriggle with joy at the celebration in his honor. At the honor of being 6. He has surpassed third-world odds, he has made it past 5. He is healthy and strong, quickly outgrowing his older brother. He has heard three languages and is still learning the nuances of ours. He is an adoring younger brother and doting older brother. He loves Jesus and has the trusting faith of one who has not undergone trial. But trials he has undergone, and survived. And flourished.
His laugh will bring a smile to any face. His dimples are beautiful to behold.
His hair is dark and tightly curled, and he is tender-headed.
He loves bread, and chicken on the bone.
He swims like a fish.
He knows your name.
I do not know if he will think of you tomorrow. He is at that wonderfully egotistical age where everything and anything can be and must be about him. He will play with new presents and old friends and I do not know if Ethiopia will be on his mind.
But you are in my heart. You-- you trusted, and had faith, and gave of the very best you had so that something better could come. I pray you are well, and resting in His peace. I pray that one day we will all dance together, and your dimples will match his dimples and we will just all dance because what else is there to do in the presence of never-ending all encompassing Love? The time for mourning will be gone. These tears will be gone. The time for dancing will be upon us forever and forever.
Thank you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Comments
Love all of you, Lolo