The Fatherless Baby
I held her sweet precious baby in my arms, rocking her–back and forth, back and forth. Remembering the days when I once held my own little ones. Oh, the pride we feel as moms as we hold a miracle in our arms.
Just minutes after this special moment, I then had the honor of holding the mother of this little baby in my arms.
She wept.
She shared her story.
I felt her soul wail, in my small, weak and helpless arms. She was hurt, lonely, afraid, confused and wounded from the men who have taken advantage of her.
Her body shook with pain as she sobbed.
No words were exchanged.
The primary reason we are sometimes at a loss for words is that we should be at a loss for words. We’re in over our heads and silence is our best option.” B. Moore
Everything inside of me wanted to scream to the Lord. Scream for justice on her behalf. Instead all that came forth were silent tears. Oh, the all too familiar silent tears. I’ve mastered the art of silent tears, since my childhood. The silent tears as I heard my parents fighting while they thought we were all asleep. The silent tears in my college dorm room as I fought with the injustices of the world. The silent tears, I’ve had to swallow and choke on, in order to make it through a session, with a client. The silent tears of motherhood that we experience as we watch our kids get left out, pushed around and made fun of. The silent tears of my sinful self who needs to make it through the day with her sinful husband.
I tried so hard to be strong for her but… my will collapsed. I joined her. We wept.
I then held her fatherless baby once again but this time knowing the harsh truth of her story. So little and only a few months and and already she has a harsh story to tell. I looked into her precious, innocent, naive, dark eyes. and I longed to be like her.
I whispered, “Oh to be like you sweet little one. A baby who knows nothing of the sin in this world. Nor of the violent tragedy of how you were formed. Or of the misfortune you were born into.”
Then she did what only a baby can do, she smiled and her innocence filled me with wonder and reminded me of His hope. Though I was battling deep thoughts of confusion, I remembered His truth. So whispered once again, “Precious little one, you have a Father who is mightier, loving, all knowing, and who always listens. He is a good. He loves you. You are known”
As I held her tiny little body against my chest and her face fell into the crook of my neck, I wanted to scream in hope that my trembling voice would make it to the heavens. “It will be okay. You will be okay.”
I wanted to shouted it, in hopes that I may also believe it.
I remember clearly the first time I realized good thing happen to His children. I was probably 6 years old and we were all riding in our van. It was late and my dad as usual had the radio tuned in to a Christian station. The program for the night was about Christians who were being persecuted. At the end of the program, I was baffled and confused, but… but… how… why… My little mind was overwhelmed. After all, these were Christians. By the time we got home the truth was set in my heart, even bad things happen to His children.
In spite of all that I can’t understand or explain or bring healing to; I know He is with us. He is mighty, loving, all knowing and is always waiting for us to come into His arms.
I got home really late. My kids were in bed and Ben was already asleep. My fear has always been that in working with girls who have been sex trafficked or abuse victims, I’ll end up hating men. Since I live in a house full of men that would NOT be a good thing. I have always struggled with the injustices of the world and the story I heard tonight was enough to jolt me. But that night, I was caught off guard because as I climbed into bed all I wanted to do was crawl into the loving and safe arms of my husband. his arms.
I quickly feel overwhelmed or depressed if I look inward. If I look outward, I feel disappointed. When I look upward, I’m filled with peace.
I laid my head and cried myself to sleep not in hopelessness but in pain of the cruel world we live in. Honestly a part of me always walks away from situations like these frustrated because I’m unable to make the situation better.
I woke up at about 1 a.m. and the Lord reminded me to pray once again for this mom and her baby. He reminded me of His soothing truth and I rubbed it on my sun scorched soul like aloe. I laid back to sleep with an inner peace. Our Heavenly Father cares deeply for this fatherless baby, who is not so fatherless. We always have our Heavenly Father who does not leave us–I am His and He is mine.
