I’m sitting where another woman should. And her absence makes me ache.
I see her shadow in the curve of his nose. I hear her voice in the melody of his laughter. Sweet Judah.
I wonder where she is right now, and if the emptiness in her arms is heavier than any other burden she might carry. My lap and my arms are full — of wriggling baby, fresh life. But for her, the stillness and silence must be unbearable.
It is a Father’s redemption that brought him here, in response to the world’s dark brokenness that tore him away.
There are 140 million orphans in the world today. And behind that number are 140 million mothers. 140 women just like me. I do not judge her.
I mourn for her; weep for her. A mother’s heart does not recover when she leaves part of it at an orphanage’s gate, tightly bundled with a birthday note pinned to the front.
She is not the villain in this tragedy, but a victim in need of healing and hope.
My heart aches and words don’t describe the sadness I feel. I shouldn’t be the one feeding him. I shouldn’t be the one learning how to make him smile. I shouldn’t be taking her place. I can only cry out to Jesus, trusting that He can heal all of this brokenness.
Father, be near to her I pray.