Part of what I’m learning as a substitute mama in this residential child care ministry is the necessity to bear a stoic willingness to have your heart broken, again and again and again. And perhaps worse than the breaking itself is the anticipatory waiting… the knowing and the falling in love with these children all the same.
Blonde Boy has wrapped me all up in his smiles and he is tangled around my heart.
The indication is that he will not be here much longer – that he will be sent out into the world to be adopted quickly, and I find myself counting the moments I have with him frantically. There is a desperate sadness that ripples within me at the very notion that he be anywhere but right here where I can see him. I feel deeply that he belongs here, under our wing. I ache for him, with him, and about all that he’s gone through in his fragile young life.
“What am I?” He asks.
“You are my boy.”
He smiles.
“But… what am I?”
What he’s really asking is “Whose am I? To whom do I belong?”
He wants to know if he’s an orphan.
And the answer to this is tricky, on so many levels. Tricky because he’s caught in the system and torn between our care facility and the state and the entanglement of his recently-deceased mother and the named “godparents” who don’t want that responsibility, after all…and the depths of my heart, where I can’t bear to imagine letting him go. Tricky because technically speaking, there is no answer to that question, right now. There is only confusion and uncertainty, and my insides rip and split because I can’t imagine the pain this must cause, and the expectations that heap upon him to just keep carrying on with life as usual.
He wonders who will want him, and who will watch out for him, and who will care. And I don’t know how to reassure him. But I look at him long and deep and I hope he can see truth in my eyes.
“You are a wonderful, beautiful child of God. You are an Heir of the King.”
He looks back into me, twice as long and twice as deep, and I fight not to break open and puddle into a helpless heap on the floor in front of him. I fight the urge to cry out to God how cruel and unfair this all is, and hasn’t he had his fair share of pain already and how do you expect him to bear this, and what am I supposed to do to heal all this?
And I remember. He heals, and I am merely a vessel.
He orchestrates this beautiful, messy life for His glory and that someday, some day that I can’t even begin to imagine, this child’s mess will be his message. This painful story will bridge the gap for someone else’s pain, for the glory of the One that heals and rewrites history. The heart breaks open so the comfort of Christ can climb inside and we can connect, intimately, with the Creator King, who knows pain even greater than ours and who lays down His whole beautiful inheritance for a blonde orphan boy with a broken past and a bleak future.
By Cara Sexton at WhimsySmitten
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I Live in an Antbed says
You are planting so many wonderful seeds of Hope and Love in this tender young heart. Thank you for being His Hands and Feet. Thank you for being willing to make yourself so vulnerable by loving him. The Lord is glorified through your Love. He is the God Who can restore the years the locusts have eaten as if they were never gone. He has done it in the lives of our two Siberian sons who became Texans almost 7 years ago. He is Able.
Cara @ WhimsySmitten says
Thank you for your sweet words. <3 We're Oregonians who recently became Texans ourselves… may as well be from another country (planet?), it seems. 😉 Thanks again for the encouragement, new friend.
Holley Gerth says
“The One who heals and rewrites history.” Now that is beautiful hope for us all!
Cara @ WhimsySmitten says
Thank you, Holley. It’s nice to be reminded that even my own history will be overcome by His generous love, His restoring hope.
Jen says
Beautiful post! Praying for that sweet boy…
Cara @ WhimsySmitten says
Thank you for your prayers, Jen, and your encouraging words. 🙂
Teri @ StumblingAroundInTheLight says
This breaks my heart, and yet swells it with hope…
Bless you for the glimpse of His love.
Teri
Cara @ WhimsySmitten says
And bless YOU for your sweet words and connecting with my story. Thanks, Teri!
Stacie says
This post moved me in several ways.
Praying for you and the little blonde boy…
Cara @ WhimsySmitten says
I’m blessed that you connected with it, Stacie. Thanks for your prayers and your kind words.
Jennifer Camp says
My heart breaks for this little boy, and my heart rejoices for the truth the Father claims for his life, which you so beautifully and powerfully relate here. Thank you so much for sharing your heart of trust and surrender.
Cara @ WhimsySmitten says
Oh, that I would surrender as much as I ought. Thanks for your kind words, your encouragement blessed me today and I thank you for rejoicing for the big work He does in these tiny hearts.
Melissa Brotherton says
So sad. So hard. So amazing that although we don’t know his path, He does. Praying for you and this little boy.
Cara @ WhimsySmitten says
Melissa, thanks for blessing me with your words and prayers. Thank you for reading!
Shannon Wheeler says
“This child’s mess will be his message.” That’s so true and so beautiful. Your investment in these lives is of immeasurable value. We have a blue-eyed orphan boy who’s our “heart son” in Ukraine, after a failed adoption attempt, and he’s now 16, so he cannot be adopted. But God’s drawn us together as family anyway. These stories are hard. We’re excited to meet our guy in August, after almost two years of ongoing relationship. (I’ve written of him and our feelings of loss in “Feel the Burn” and “Holding on Loosely” in my blog, if you want to take a peek!) Thank you for keeping God’s heart for the orphan in front of us.
Cara @ WhimsySmitten says
What a beautiful story, Shannon. Thank you for holding on across miles and obstacles for your heart-child. Praying for God to work miracles in the coming years for you and your boy.