One Year

Happy Birthday, little one.

Today marks one year of life for you.

In one year your life has touched so many people who love you.

Last week someone reminded me of the story of Joseph; how he was able to forgive his brothers. How he moved beyond the pain and hurt in his life and lived in the confidence that what his brothers meant for evil, God used for good.

Little baby, someone hurt you. Maybe someone who loves you, maybe it was a tragic accident. Whatever the case, we can know with confidence that God has used it for good.

Just look at all the people who have been blessed by knowing you:

The doctors at St. Christopher's who are continually amazed at your recovery. And since you can't tell them, I speak on your behalf and let them know that your healing, the miracle they see, is all from God.

While you were at Weisman Rehabilitation Center you wormed your way into the hearts of the doctors, nurses, and therapists. Because God's hand was on you, your progress was unexpected and your prognosis became more and more hopeful. Through you those people found a bit of hope in what must sometimes feel like a hopeless place.

Case workers were taken with your smile and sweet personality. One of the workers at the Bethany office remarked that when you smile, your "whole head smiles." The first time the worker from Philadelphia came to meet you, she didn't believe that the baby I was holding was you. She insisted that the file photos showed a baby who was non-responsive and severely delayed; and each month when she came to visit one of her first questions was, "What did he learn to do this month?"

A special group of moms was with me the day I first learned about you. The phone call was a little overwhelming and I wondered if I was equipped to handle your needs (of course I'm not, I'm seldom equipped to do what God asks.) Those moms stopped right then and surrounded you with prayer; and I don't think they ever really stopped - even up to today many of them are praying for you, and loving you.

Our church family couldn't get enough of you. I became a baby-holder and ceased to have my own identity; all they could see was the adorable little boy in my arms. People were asking to hold you all the time, and children wanted to play with you. Almost every week someone would ask how you were doing, and the answer always gave me a chance to brag on you - how smart, how cute, how much of a miracle and blessing you were. Nursery workers loved you, marvelled at how fast you crawled, and cheered when you began to walk.

A wonderful group of other foster families got to know you and walk through some of the joys and frustrations of your case with us. These families have seen many things, hard things.They believe that we are called to care for children, to love them, and to pray for them. I know many of them continue to pray for you.

Our extended family is an overwhelming source of love. With seventeen grandchildren on one side and eighteen on the other, there's so much going on. So many cousins to play with, to hold you, aunts and uncles who have developed special friendships with you, grandparents to dote on and spoil you.

Then there's us. The kids couldn't get enough of you. From the time one of them heard you on the monitor in the morning until I shoved them out of your bedroom at night, they wanted to be around you. Although Sierra and Samara were told not to pick you up, they just couldn't help themselves and felt the need to cuddle you, chase you around the livingroom, tickle you, and read all their books aloud - whether you were listening or not. Evan and Eli loved to lay on the floor and have you crawl over them; you became interested in finding and pulling on their ears and noses. You especially enjoyed pulling and chewing on shoelaces. The home-from-school greeting quickly became: "Is the baby up?" During the first weeks at our house, you were learning to roll over and we would all sit around you in the living room and watch and encourage and cheer; when the kids saw you begin to pull yourself across the floor, they would set up towers for you to knock over; when you began to stand, we were in awe at your strength and balance; and when you started to take steps, Sierra had to count every-single-one. When we'd come down the stairs after a nap and you'd see the school pictures of the kids hanging on the wall, you would point and smile, and then look around as if to try to find them.

The ways you have touched my life, as your temporary mommy, are so deep and precious. It's very hard to write of them now when I miss you so incredibly much and tears blur what I'm writing. For now, I want to hold those memories close to my heart and treasure them privately. But then I am fearful that I might forget, that the memories might grow dim. But perhaps that's okay because some of the pain might dim as well.

As your first birthday is celebrated today, I hope you know how much you have been loved already. I trust that God will use your life to keep touching and moving people toward hope.

Happy Birthday, little one.