Tuesday, July 17, 2012


It's one o'clock in the morning.  And try as I might, I can't either sleep or let go of the thoughts plaguing me tonight.  Thoughts of Mbo. Thoughts of Josue.  Thoughts of another little boy or girl who may belong to our family.  Tonight, I tucked Robby into bed, for the hundredth time, and I was thinking about the quilt I've made him, the fleece throw, and the comforter I've yet to buy.  And I thought, well, our kids will never be cold! And then, of course, it hit me.  Again. Always. That the blankets I've made and those I've planned for, they were supposed to be for Josue as well.

We stand by our decision. We've made the only one possible for our family, for Josue.  But what I really know is that a world away, there is a six year old little boy, not so different from the one sleeping down the hall, who doesn't understand why.  Why he was going to have a family, and now he doesn't. And I don't understand either. Why, when talking about our family, is it our family and Josue, separate equations? Why such a small child should be left, for what will probably be forever, without a real family. Why I had plans for blankets and clothes and toys and photo books for this little man, and now... nothing?  And my grief tonight, is overwhelming.  I want to crawl into my Abba's arms, as I did Ryan's tonight, and just be held.  I want to know that, while I can never be a mom to Josue, my Abba will always be a father to him.

But tonight, it doesn't feel that way.

Tonight, I am raw and aching and struggling to understand.  I can't comprehend the abandonment of so many babies, with empty stomachs.  I can't understand a world in which grown men (and women) do despicable things to little children. Or the bureaucracy that keeps Mbo from me.  What I know is that I have a bed set up, waiting for my little girl to fill it and a closet full of clothes waiting for her to wear them. What I know is that I have full cupboards and warm blankets and so much love in my heart and my arms ache, and I can't share it with my daughter!  What I know is that tonight, tonight I grieve.