I watched a movie last night with Scott. A movie I saw years ago, but forgot a lot of the details. It is a true story written by the man who lived the story. Antwone Fisher. Seriously, phenomenal movie. Heartwrenching.
My point? There is a scene that reduced me to tears. The kind of tears where your breath is taken away from you and you immediately get the shaky shoulders.
Antwone never knew his parents. He was born in a prison and his mother never came after him when she got out. His father died before he was even born. He grew up in the foster system. While he was in the Navy, he decided to pursue finding his family. He found his mother and well, it was a sad scene that ended with no loving embrace. But, he met his father’s baby sister. And when he went to her home, there were literally 50 relatives waiting to greet him. Older generations and younger looking at him, hugging him. At one point, the sweetest elderly woman, who seemed to be his great grandmother, grabbed his face and with tears in her eyes, whispered “Welcome”. A lifelong connection and finally, a face to face reunion.
I watched and couldn’t help but think about our little one from Ethiopia. You see, at this point, I have no idea why they will be in an orphanage. Maybe because their birth mother couldn’t take care of them on her own. Maybe because she had passed away during labor. Maybe she had AIDS. I know that I can sensationalize the birth mother and father and think that they must be so heartbroken over the idea of placing their child in the care of someone else when that very well may not be the case. I just can’t fathom someone willingly giving away their baby, so I can’t imagine someone else having the capacity to do that either.
But, no matter why my child was put in an orphanage….SOMEONE in their family loved them.
A grandmother. A grandfather. An auntie. An uncle. A brother. A sister.
Someone in their lineage adored and wanted the best for this child. Someone will be thinking about them long after they leave the orphanage and come home to us.
And even though it may sound incredibly cheesy to you, I can’t help but feel an ache for heaven on my little one’s behalf. For the day where they get to meet the rest of their family.
There is no doubt in my mind that the baby who will come home into mine and Scott’s arms will be ours. There will be no denying that we will have memorized his/her scent…his/her smile…we will know why they are crying and why they are sleepy. We will be the ones who teach them about love and family and God. This baby will be our baby. Who will grow into our little child. Who will grow into our teenager and so on.
I am not going to deny the fact that someone. Birth Mother or Father. Grandmother or Grandfather. Someone out there will also be aching for heaven. Waiting for the day that they will reunite.
I think this is why I feel such an enormous connection to my child’s birth family.
Because, I understand losing someone you only got a glimpse of. And aching for the day when you can meet again.
I believe so strongly that what I actually believe is true. So, with that, I pray.
I pray that they know Christ. And that when my child does go to heaven, that his family will be there…with the lifelong connection and finally, the face to face reunion.