Sunday, April 14, 2013

A Cry in the Dark

Screams in the dark.  Crying.  I run upstairs to reach her.  I'm reminded how she is not much older than a baby.  And this baby still isn't used to having her nighttime cries answered.

I go to her in her room.  Tears pour down her cheeks.  She is terrified.

I scoop her up to hold her.  I rock her, wanting to rock her for all those nights that her cries weren't answered.  She is like a feather in my arms.

"Do you want to tell Mommy what your dream was?"

She shakes her head yes, but I can feel her heart pounding and her legs shaking.  She is terrified to answer.  I try to soothe her, telling her it's all a dream, that she's safe in her room, in Mommy's arms.  It was nothing but a bad dream.  She can't seem to say a word.  I long to know what's going on in her head.

I try to coax it out of her, reassuring her if she tells me it won't feel as scary anymore.  She fidgets, then swallows.  Her nervous ticks are in full force.  I won't get anything out of her.  I reassure her it's ok.  I simply hold her, stroke her hair and cheek, give her a smile and some kisses, and eventually tuck her in.

Her nightmares have lessened from when she first came home to us.  Screaming at night used to be a regular thing.  Even in her referral, we were told she often cried out during the night while she was in China.  I wonder if her cries were ever answered when she was in the orphanage.  I wonder if she was left alone with her heart pounding, tears streaming down, by herself in the dark.  The thought of that makes my stomach churn, my heart pound a little faster.  And then I wonder if our kids in Haiti have bad dreams too, and if anyone is there to soothe them, to wipe away their tears.

I wish our newest little ones were home.

Every kid should be able to have a mom or dad chase away the nightmares.  Every kid should have someone that will wipe their tears away.  It breaks my heart to think of the years the locusts stole from my children in the orphanage.  And yet, without that orphanage, I can only imagine how much worse it could've been...

The darkness sits on the edges of my vision.  But I know that light will come soon, to chase away the bad dreams, to bring healing to the hurting, to give a family to my children that are still so far away.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.  John 1:5 

I know that God is restoring my tiny daughter, healing her bit by bit.  I see it, this new person she is becoming.  She has learned to love, to trust a little more, to smile, to play.  She's a smart little one, my tiny Aria.  I'm amazed at how far God has brought her.  And I know that although I can't hold my sweet little Haitian children yet, my God is a Father to the fatherless.  He knows them inside and out, because he formed them.  And hasn't forgotten about them.  He hears their cries in the dark.

Morning will come soon for you too, little ones.

Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning. Psalm 30:5b

And so for now... I pray you have sweet dreams, my children, where ever you lay your heads tonight.

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