Wounds

I've posted about this before, but it needs repeating. M still hurts.

There are many people who LOVE to say, "Children are so resilient."

I hate that phrase. Detest is not too strong a word to describe my feelings.

Can children play after profound loss? Yes.

Can children smile while grieving? Yes.

Can children laugh and fear at the same time? Yes.


M looks like every other child in her preschool. So much so that even R and I sometimes forget her profound loss and the fears hidden so deep in her tiny heart.

Recently, I had the absolute honor of becoming a godmother to Grace . First M asked, "You get to be her FAIRY GODMOTHER?!" She was impressed. Big time.

But quickly she grew worried and later that evening she snuggled up and said, "But I want you to be MY mama forever."

And then the questions began.

What if you not love me anymore?
What if you forget I from China?
What if you not remember to take care of me?
What if you not feed me anymore?

And on and on they came.

And I answered every one of them. And I loved on her, rocking her and kissing her and promising unending love. And reminding of a Savior who loves better than I ever can.

My bio sons have never worried if they would be fed, or clothed, or loved. They just KNEW they would be. Forever.

But Miss M? The scars are deep.

She remembers being hungry. She tells a specific story that breaks your heart. She remembers being cold. It makes her triple check her blankets every night to be sure they are there and positioned just so to keep her toes warm. And she remembers being alone. In the night. And calling for someone to come.

We came.

"You're such amazing people!" If I only had a dime...

The truth is, we're really not. We walked by faith completely empowered by the Spirit of God. Not because we're big and bold or super spiritual. It's because we're weak and small. And God is great and mighty and He can move even stubborn, scared people like us across the world to find a little girl in need of love.

I believe in miracles. And I believe in hope. Because the one who put the stirring of faith in our hearts promises to be faithful to all who call on Him.

Will M carry scars forever? Maybe. But then again, so does my Jesus. And by His wounds we all are healed. Even and most especially our precious M.

Shhhh!

If you promise not to tell, I'll share one of my favorite secrets with you...

Nestled on a street horses still ride down, is the sweetest historical library in our town.

Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine ladies of old bustling in with their hooped skirts swishing. It makes me smile.

It's only open two days each week, but since you're friends we'll let you in.

Couldn't you just look at this all day? Vintage blue-green walls, white woodwork, the sweet wooden table that just begs to come and sit.

Everything here is just the right size for M to explore. And who wouldn't want to with niches like this?

And intoxicating spots by windows like this?

While M loves the rooms as much as I, to her nothing compares to finding just the right book!