Recently I noticed one of our treasures seemed to have a very different expression.  I studied the expression, finding it difficult to read.  Each day I paid attention.  The countenance was very unusual and I wondered what was going on.

A few days passed as I continued to watch.  When this one caught me staring at them they stared back.  I could tell that their face was reading mine.  It concerned me, but there was much activity and little time to just talk.

Finally, yesterday, the timing was right and I had a few quiet moments alone as I questioned,

“What’s wrong honey?  Your face is telling me that something is troubling you.”

Tears burst from their eyes instantly!

Whoooa.

Through sobs they blurted,

“I dreamed you left me on the street and never came back.”

Oh.  Such grief.  Unimaginable.

My heart felt so sick.

Tears welled in my own eyes.

“Oh sweet one, mommy will never, ever leave you.
Not in a million years.
Never.
Not ever.
You are mine always.
You can’t get rid of me if you want to.”

I held them as they sobbed for literally almost an hour.

Such grief for one so young.

No doubt, this is the ugly side of life.

The side of grief that must come out, needs to come out, has to come out,
but oh, the heartache.

How does one really process this horrendous reality?

As the moments passed I questioned more, “Have you dreamed it before?”

“I have been dreaming it every night.  
I can’t go back to sleep.  
I wake up crying sometimes.”

I held this little treasure of ours for a long, long time.
Snuggled together on our big bed.
Safe.
Whispering how much we love this one and how sickened I am that they
have ever had to experience such pain.

As I held our precious treasure I realized this is the exact time of year that they 
were abandoned. That ugly moment when despair met hopelessness and they 
were abandoned on an incredibly lonely road. 

No doubt, they are remembering the moments in the innermost {and very powerful}
recesses of their memory.

The worst fear ever envisioned possible did come true for them.

How do we assure them it won’t happen again?

That it can’t happen again.

That it will not ever happen again!

I prayed, struggling in the torment of the gripping truth of what
abandonment means to each of our children.

In my own frailty I reminded them that we brought big brother home 29 years ago and never changed our mind.  We brought big sister home over 25 years ago and never changed our mind. And on and on I went reassuring that we never changed our mind.  Not ever.  No matter even when some were naughty or unkind or mean or anything else.

And somewhere in there another treasure of ours had been observing a bit of this discussion, unaware of what was being said or what was going on.  This other treasure could just could tell something powerful was being addressed and suddenly this other one began to sob.

Loudly.

Uncontrollably.

A bigger sibling picked this second one up and brought them to me where I held them both on the my lap, all the while Ruby was resting between my legs.  All four of us wrapped together on my bed.

Literally a giant ball of family.

We sat like this for a long, long time.

Me whispering.

Reassuring.

Praying softly.

Singing a tiny bit.

Holding the three tightly.

“Mommy and daddy will never change our mind.  
You’re stuck with us forever.”

Somewhere in there the biggest sister came in.  Her own eyes welled with tears as we
all talked together for a while.  Then her words spoke:

“Even if something were to happen to mommy and daddy, we’re family.  We stick together.
No matter what.  Forever.”

My eye filled with tears.

Large families.

Grown treasures with their own treasures.

But we’re family.

So much ugly truth broken through by the solemness of such holy moments.

Faithful God.

Ministering to our little ones broken hearts.

How grateful I am for the privilege of being the mommy who
gets to snuggle young broken hearts.

Thankful every second for the overwhelming grace of our gentle God.