Written last night, 1/12/15. Brian captures our emotions better than me. Check out his post HERE.
Our hearts are so heavy tonight. This afternoon we received a heartbreaking email from Jessica, our social worker with Love Without Boundaries, the organization that has given us the opportunity to sponsor "our" Gideon. Typically she sends us our very favorite emails of the month, full of pictures, updates on our sponsorship, and a list of the developmental milestones our sweet boy is knocking out of the park. But today, Jessica's email was of a much different sort, the sort that made both Brian and I melt into tears and hold each other tightly in some small hope that it might keep our hearts from shattering into a million pieces (no such luck).
Today we lost our sweet, precious Gideon.
Jessica said it was a respiratory infection and that both she and Gid's foster family were crushed by the news this morning. She reminded us once again how precious and sweet Gideon was, assuring us that he will never be forgotten by those who worked with him. I am so thankful for how personal and patient Jessica has been with Brian and me, sharing stories about Gideon and answering all our questions about a little boy we had never met on the other side of the world. She painted the picture of Gideon for us, telling us about his special relationship with his foster mama, detailing the amazing progress he was making, and always giving us a laugh with at least one picture of Gid surrounded by five or six or ten boxes of cereal (Brian and I have never figured out this funny monthly tradition other than to assume Love Without Boundaries wants their sponsors to see where their funds are going, especially since Gideon was part of the nutrition program).
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I wish I had something insightful or uplifting to say, some Bible verse that captures the hope we know we have in Jesus, some wisdom to impart on the few readers of my blog. I wish I could process and pray and blog about exactly what God is doing in all of this. But I can't. Maybe it's because I'm exhausted at 4:30 in the morning. Maybe it's because I really don't know what God is doing. All I know is that my heart is raw, our hearts are raw, and what we really want in the whole wide world is to have our Giddy back.
I know this all sounds ridiculous really. We are mourning over a child we have never seen, never held, never met. We are grieving for a little boy who lived on the other side of the world and who never even knew our names, much less the relatively tiny sacrifice we were making monthly to sponsor his foster care. We had a few pictures, a few emails, a framed photo on our mantle, but nothing tangibly more. How do you grieve something, someone, that was never yours? How do you mourn a life you never saw lived out? How do you weep for feet that never learned how to walk, hands that were never ours to hold? How do you make sense of our world here when our heart aches, our hearts break over a tiny little boy who had defied all odds and lived up to his name "Mighty Warrior"?
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| Gideon shortly after being found by LWB staff. He was only 2 pounds! |
Yesterday morning as I drove home from work in Louisville (approximately 3 hours pre-Jessica-email), I talked with God, out loud, in the car. I prayed for a few different things -- strength to make it through my fifth night of work in a row, our friends having a baby, our families -- but mostly I prayed for one thing: That God would create in Brian and me one mission, one passion, one purpose. That He would wake us up to any complacency in our lives. That He would break our hearts for what breaks His.
Three hours later, with one short but sorrow-filled email, we learned that God's heart breaks for Gideon. And so do ours. To say God got our attention today would be a massive understatement. Three hours, guys. Three hours between the prayer and the answer. Please don't miss the significance of this.
You see, our mourning, our grieving, it's not just about Gideon. It's about the thousands, the hundreds of thousands, of orphans around the world who don't have a family, who don't have someone who loves them, who don't even have basic food and water. It's about the kids who have hands that will never be held, hearts that will never be fulfilled, ears that will never hear those three blessed words: I love you. We are grieving for those kids too. How can we justify a "fluffy" budget when, for $40 a month, we can fund foster care for more kiddos in need? How can we spend our days watching Netflix and playing iPhone games when orphans all around the world have no one taking the time to speak out for them? How can we plan our future, dream about our house, talk about our careers without even the slightest consideration that countless children around the world would love nothing more than to be able to call someone Mommy and Daddy?
We get questions literally every week about why our hearts bleed for adoption: Why would you want to adopt when you don't even know if you can have your own kids yet? Did you say thirty-five THOUSAND dollars? Aren't you curious about what your biological children would look like? Don't you believe God will give you children despite your suspected infertility and will work out everything according to his purpose?
Here is the simplest way I can answer the questions, to describe the longing in our hearts: This is God's purpose. This is God's purpose for us. You want to know why we want to adopt?
This is why.
Today is why.
Gideon is why.
Gideon stole our hearts with one picture. This one picture.
From the first moment we saw him we just knew he was something special, that he was a part of our lives no matter how small or how far away. I can only liken it to falling in love, to that deep sense you had when you knew your spouse was the one, without a doubt, you were meant to marry. It's a wholeness, a feeling in the deepest part of your heart that all is right with the world. That's what we felt with Gideon. With Gideon, life was a little brighter, a little more full of joy. We knew from the very beginning that Gideon would never be part of our literal family; that was never the point anyway. No, our prayer night after night was that Gideon would find a family who loved him and loved Jesus even more than we did. Even knowing he wasn't ours to keep, Gideon, through his tiny life and his big smile, unknowingly prepared us for our future adoption and our future family. He taught us how to love, how to fall in love with just one picture, one smile, one whisper from God saying "That's the one." Gideon was the one. He wasn't our "one" but he was "our" precious little boy to pray for and love for a season. A much too short season, but a very, very blessed one.
We are grateful for Jessica, Little Flower Projects, Love Without Boundaries, and Gideon's precious foster parents because, despite his short life, Gideon was so loved. So loved. He had been prayed for by us, our families, his sponsors around the country. He had been talked about, bragged about, and smiled over with hundreds of friends and coworkers who saw how much we adored him. Giddy stole our hearts, our souls, our dreams. And from Jessica's email updates, he clearly stole China's heart too. We will never forget our Gid, our precious, precious Gideon.
We love you, sweet boy, and we rest in the joy that we will see you again one day.
If you would like to sponsor a child in honor of Gideon, please visit:
