Last night our oldest began to get teary-eyed when I announced bedtime was nearing. He’s still getting into the swing here, you know, since he was only placed here two days ago. Oh wait… did I forget to mention that?
Oh yeah, two days ago we got a phone call a little after 1p and added two new members to our family by 7p. Yep, 6 hours that I’ll never forget. The day had felt so normal. And when I was given the info over the phone I just knew “yes” was the only answer. It was our step of obedience that we’d been praying about for 1 year and seven months from that first heart-pricking. And in one afternoon we met them… the boys that have made us “never the same” and “never wanting to go back” all in one.
He’d cried himself to sleep the first two nights, missing his Mom. Rightfully so. I just agreed with him. It is not fair. I wish I could tell him when she’d come for him. I wish I knew if she’d ever come for him. I ran my fingers through his hair. Nits don’t hold water to love. He’s worth the risk.
Then last night came. And the story emerged. Too much seen. Violence. An emergency phone call. Fear.
I wish I could take it away from him. I wish I could blot out those images that haunt him… I wish I could replace them with trips to the park and Saturday morning cartoons.
Old words drew more tears to his eyes. His bottom lip quivered as he tried to regain self-control, failing. He confided the source of his nightmares… his anxiety about sleeping. His insecurity in what he should really believe.
I asked him if he felt safe here. He answered quickly with assurance. I wondered if that assurance would hold water right after a nightmare.
We prayed. And I stroked his hair more.
I just wish I could take it all away for him.
But I can’t.
But I know who has sheltered him. Who has guarded as much innocence as can be left after all he’s seen. I know who has stood in the gap, shielding him from so much so that he can lose himself in a bad joke, run in reckless abandonment through the house, and blast helicopters with laser beams right before they catapult to the living room carpet.
And all I can do is say thank you. Thank you, Lord, on his behalf.
And then I can just lead him to Your feet, in prayer.
…
Prayer for a peace beyond our understanding.
– Love that boy.
Today, I hope you guys all get to play and learn together, and that boy is more healed. 🙂
Last night he was. Still tears in his eyes, but more peace and assurance in tomorrow being a new day to do fun things together. Less worry in his breathing. Thanks be to God. He’s the Great Healer and Distractor from deep hurts to build our very characters to need Him more. It’ll still hurt, but the Lord has graced us with a building trust and a building love. – Thanks for coming alongside us in your hopes. =)