I was sitting at my desk when Little Man and Eby raced into the room. “We want to message our families,” they shouted. “I want to talk to my sister,” Eby said and Little Man followed with, “I want to email my Mommy.”
I wasn’t expecting such significant thoughts and I faltered for a moment, especially at Little Man’s words. We talk about our children’s Ethiopian families regularly but he had never asked to contact his Ethiopian mother. After being in touch with her for a time, we haven’t heard from her in nearly two years, which worries me. She has all of our contact information, so I hope one day we will hear from her again, but of course, I’m concerned that something may have happened to her.
Tomorrow Little Man will be five years old; he has been our son for all but the first four months of his life. We have been blessed more than words can express by his life – he adds joy to our family every day. I know his young mother misses him. The last time I saw her, three years ago, she told me that she was learning English because she wants to be able to speak to Little Man one day. I pray that day will come.
If she could see him tomorrow as he blows out the candles on his cake, she would be amazed at the incredible little boy he is becoming. He defies everything science tells us about the importance of prenatal care, good nutrition, and safe childbirth. God has given Little Man an amazing, bright mind, a strong, healthy body, and a joyful spirit. He is full of spunk and delight. Yesterday, as he read a story to me about Pat the fat rat who sat on the hat, I marveled at the way he is growing.
Today I am thinking of Little Man’s Ethiopian mother, wishing she could share the joy of his birthday. I hope that one day soon I’ll find an unexpected email in my inbox from a “friend of a friend” who sends a message on her behalf. I see her face in Little Man’s and wish I could pop a few photos in the mail to her or see her at our dinner table tomorrow night. I know how much she would want to be here and my heart hurts for her as we celebrate.
I am deeply thankful that I have seen Little Man’s first mother face to face, wrapped my arms around her, watched her hold Little Man close, heard her story, shared coffee and tears. I’m honored that she trusts me with her son; I’ll do my best to return that honor to her.
#311 – 320 giving thanks
lemon cake with cream cheese frosting
five candles on top
tight hugs around my neck
still little enough to sit on my lap
mastering “Go Fish”
learning to read
abundant life despite all odds
Farmyard Tales nearly every day
a heart for Jesus
singing a little JB, “Baby, baby, baby oh….” He’s a star.
[This post contains Amazon Affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.]
This post may contain Amazon Affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.