Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Dear Ayah
Dear Ayah,
I think about you every day. I wonder, how many times you have held Sweet Baby R in your arms? Did you kiss a boo boo today? Did you laugh as she accomplished something new? Did you hug her? Did you sing to her as you combed her hair? You see, I knew you existed but ever since I've seen a picture of you with Baby R, you are more "real" to me. My prayers for you have taken on new meaning and deeper sentiment. I constantly waiver between feelings of jealousy and being overwhelmed with gratitude for the love you have showered upon her. I covet the fact that as you cradled her, you breathed in her infant skin. When she cried, your touch was a soothing balm. You were there when she first cooed. I wonder, does she call you mama? You witnessed her healing and incredible growth. I visualize you encouraging her as she rolled over for the first time. I'm quite certain you were holding a toy in hopes to lure her into crawling towards you. You were the one to first hear her giggles and see her first smiles. I try to imagine the sound of your voice encouraging her to take her first steps and the look on her face as she excitedly made her wobbly way towards you. I hope you scooped her up and kissed her when she finally crashed into your arms.
I can tell from the photos of you two together that you love her very much. I hope that one day R will trust me the way she obviously trusts you. I long for her to bury her head in my knees the way she did with you. You are her safe place. She feels your love. You are her home. I confess that I am jealous because those special moments that you witnessed are treasures that I will never call my own.
Geographically and culturally there is a great abyss between us. However, love is the bridge that crosses that expanse. Love is the catalyst that binds us together; each of us pouring out our hearts upon a child with whom neither of us share blood. They say that blood is thicker than water, but I say that love is thicker than blood.
Dear Ayah, it doesn't matter that we don't speak the same language. Even if we did, I would never be able to find the words to express the affection I have for you and the enormity of the sacrifice you have made for R. I have been praying for your heart. Praying that God will comfort you in a way that no other can.
You saw photos of me and now can picture my face when you think of R's new family. You have seen pictures of Munni as well. I hope that your heart is filled with joy when you think of R playing with her new sister. I pray that thoughts of two Indian princesses united by love will quell the pain of goodbye.
Dear Ayah, you and I are forever joined by the choices we made to love this beautiful, precious, baby girl who is so deserving of a mother's love. Different color skin. Different languages. And yet, we are kindred spirits. I pray that we don't lose touch. I pray that you will see this beautiful child grow into all that is intended for her.
But my dear Ayah, if it should happen that one day communication slips through our fingers and fades away, my hope is that on the other side of eternity, I will have the honor of placing a crown on your head; a reward for your heart and your incredible decision to choose love.
I think about you every day. I wonder, how many times you have held Sweet Baby R in your arms? Did you kiss a boo boo today? Did you laugh as she accomplished something new? Did you hug her? Did you sing to her as you combed her hair? You see, I knew you existed but ever since I've seen a picture of you with Baby R, you are more "real" to me. My prayers for you have taken on new meaning and deeper sentiment. I constantly waiver between feelings of jealousy and being overwhelmed with gratitude for the love you have showered upon her. I covet the fact that as you cradled her, you breathed in her infant skin. When she cried, your touch was a soothing balm. You were there when she first cooed. I wonder, does she call you mama? You witnessed her healing and incredible growth. I visualize you encouraging her as she rolled over for the first time. I'm quite certain you were holding a toy in hopes to lure her into crawling towards you. You were the one to first hear her giggles and see her first smiles. I try to imagine the sound of your voice encouraging her to take her first steps and the look on her face as she excitedly made her wobbly way towards you. I hope you scooped her up and kissed her when she finally crashed into your arms.
I can tell from the photos of you two together that you love her very much. I hope that one day R will trust me the way she obviously trusts you. I long for her to bury her head in my knees the way she did with you. You are her safe place. She feels your love. You are her home. I confess that I am jealous because those special moments that you witnessed are treasures that I will never call my own.
And then, my heart breaks for you when I let myself dwell on the magnitude of the gift you have given me by loving her well, and the price you will pay when the day comes that you place her in my arms. I will never be able to repay you for the offering of love that you have bestowed upon us.
Dear Ayah, it doesn't matter that we don't speak the same language. Even if we did, I would never be able to find the words to express the affection I have for you and the enormity of the sacrifice you have made for R. I have been praying for your heart. Praying that God will comfort you in a way that no other can.
You saw photos of me and now can picture my face when you think of R's new family. You have seen pictures of Munni as well. I hope that your heart is filled with joy when you think of R playing with her new sister. I pray that thoughts of two Indian princesses united by love will quell the pain of goodbye.
Dear Ayah, you and I are forever joined by the choices we made to love this beautiful, precious, baby girl who is so deserving of a mother's love. Different color skin. Different languages. And yet, we are kindred spirits. I pray that we don't lose touch. I pray that you will see this beautiful child grow into all that is intended for her.
But my dear Ayah, if it should happen that one day communication slips through our fingers and fades away, my hope is that on the other side of eternity, I will have the honor of placing a crown on your head; a reward for your heart and your incredible decision to choose love.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)