It hangs in the hallway.
Common and plain.
And, yet, there is grace written there.
A box around words. Names carved out in blue.
A whisper of God’s grace through time.
I sat in the bathtub, the lukewarm water barely covering my swollen belly.
The outline of her little foot would appear. Then the jab of an elbow.
The grief of letting one child go already hung heavy on my heart. I didn’t want to let this child go.
But in order to give her the world, I had to exchange this bundle of life and beauty…my everything…for nothing.
In a matter of days…a few breaths…she would be gone.
I sat in the same bathtub. Deflated belly submerged under scalding water.
She was gone.
The strong baby girl with my mama’s hands and my fiery spirit was gone. Would anyone know whose hands she had? Or understand the fist clenching, jaw-squared fight of a Hunt girl?
Would she ever want to know me?
Now those blue words of hope are a few breaths away.
My memory holds a baby…my eyes will behold a young woman.
My breath catches in my chest, even as I write. Are there words for this? This tender gift of God…the meeting.
It is here, in the space of overwhelming emotion and difficult realities, that I feel His whisper. I remember that God knows what it is like to send a child into someone else’s arms….someone else’s family. That He is birth and adoption.
And I remember that in Him, we are all one. This child I don’t know, her amazing mama and me.
Family, we were, from the first. A far-flung, loosely connected band.
Pictures told tales of life well-lived, of love soaked days and a beautiful baby girl.
Hand scrawled notes with words like “from one mother’s heart to another”.
Phone calls for medical form information and laughter.
Open adoption created a beautiful circle of love for this baby girl.
It has been years since we looked each other in the eye. Since hugs and touch were a language we could speak.
These blue words that hang laden with anticipation and nervousness, what will they bring?