I neglected my Friday post again this weekend, and I've been putting off my "Monday's Measure" post for today ... because I'm simply finding no words. All is well here--no immediate worries: happy little girls asleep in their cozy beds; a husband on his headset and strategizing intently with his brother on their "computer game night"; me with my tea and a few paintings-in-progress on the table before me.
But my computer screen is awake and impatiently glaring, because I've still got a post to "put to bed." And I know that this time I can't just post a few pretty pictures and a poem and call it a day. You see, there are people I love, most of them whom I don't even know, whose hearts are aching. Life is hard and people everywhere hurt all of the time. I know that. But sometimes the ache just settles in to the soul, begins to make you feel broken in an entirely new way.
Still the words won't come. There is too much to say and I don't even know where to begin. So perhaps I'll just start with this precious face:
This little guy is three years old (just a three months older than my Eowyn) living in an orphanage somewhere. He is kind and joyful; he loves music and dancing. And even though he's never known a mama or a daddy, he is quite blessed--his orphanage is actually a good one, run by people who, it seems, have a gift for loving and caring for children. But Little Guy turns four in September, and in his country, orphans with Down Syndrome and other special needs are sent to a mental institution once they turn four. Here these children endure neglect and even physical abuse--traumatic for anyone, bust especially for these precious Down Syndrome babies who often cannot survive such conditions.
Joy of Joys--this precious one soon will know the love of a Mama and a Daddy! Just last month, two of the best parents in the world started calling him their son. (He even has two lively brothers and a newborn baby sister who can't wait to meet him! Read more of the Moyer family's story on their blog.) Little Guy is fiercely loved, protected by the prayers of many, and longed for--because he is nearly on the other side of the world, alone in his crib at night, waiting for his Mama's arms to hold and to comfort him.
Oh, the ache. I try to imagine it, as much as it hurts. I think of my little girls and how desperate I would feel if I knew that one of them was so far away and I couldn't get to her immediately. (Eowyn spent her first month in the hospital and I remember so clearly how empty my arms felt when I went home at night--and she was only on the other side of town.)
I try to imagine it, the loneliness, the emptiness these children must feel. Our Heavenly Father has not abandoned them; I'm sure He comforts their hearts in some unimaginable way. But their eyes speak volumes--how must it feel to have no one to belong to? Although sometimes I want to look away, thanks to my three-year-old's dedication to "praying for the babies," I scroll through their faces nearly every day--speaking their names out loud, loving them in my own small way, even if it's just to look into their eyes through my tears and acknowledge their precious existence.
Would you consider praying for them too? Could you give a little (or a lot!) to bring this little boy home in time--before his tender little heart is exposed even to one day in the institution? You can even give and get a little something in return--I am donating proceeds from my shop sales to the Moyer Family fund--$5 from every print sale goes to Reece's Rainbow, and ALL of the proceeds from a special selection of prints help to bring Little Guy home!
Thank you friends! And a heaping measure of blessings to you on this Monday,