When the Crib is Empty

This isn't right...

I kept repeating these words over and over, these thoughts refusing to leave. Just eight days earlier she was admitted to our center. So tiny and frail with paper thin skin stretched over little bones. She had the smell of the street, a smell I can recognize anywhere.

And her eyes... she watched us with round, dark eyes, too old for her little body. She studied everyone.

Her life has not been fair. Sometimes we don't know any details. A little one is found and rescued, and we nurse him back to life with the little information we are given.

It's easier to imagine the circumstances. Maybe she was a young mother, and she just didn't know or understand. Maybe she was poor or sick, and abandoning the child was her best option.

But sometimes I know too much, and then I struggle. I struggle with the anger, and I am frustrated over a sickness that should not have happened.

She was a fighter. For a few days, we thought she would make it. Her body rebounded with the sudden influx of nourishment and affection. She would blow bubbles and smile up from her crib. She would reach up to touch your face while being fed.

And eight days later, we sat beside her crib, telling her of heaven and all the other little ones she would meet there. And she breathed her last.

Her little body just couldn't do it anymore. And we watched and fought alongside her until the very end.

This isn't right.

I sit at the table and stare across the room at an empty crib.

There will be no viral posts coursing through the internet, no public outcry over her death. No one will launch an investigation, and those responsible for neglecting her will not be punished.

After all, she is one tiny human being in a world where tiny human beings leave every day.

And what is so hard is the knowledge that this will not be the last empty crib. She will not be the last little one we whisper to about heaven, and she is now one of the names we will speak of.

Thank God we have hope. Thank God I can sit here and write this, knowing it breaks His heart even more than mine. Thank God for the peace of knowing there is life beyond the pain.

So we wait... for the next little one, for the empty crib to once again be filled.

And we hope. Maybe next time will be the right time. Maybe next time, the fight will be won.

Maybe.

You are loved, honored, and missed, little one. We are so grateful for the time with you. 

In Honor of Beauty

     What I know about beauty, I have learned from watching her.

      I know her voice better than probably any other sound in the world. I have been called many names, but nothing sounds as sweet as the way "Jahr-dan" sounds when she calls. In a crowded room, I could easily find her with one word.

      I remember her telling me about riding her horse as a little girl from her parents' home to her brother's. She would do tricks on the horse, and I am pretty sure she is partially responsible for my taste for adventure.

      Her home has never been remodeled, and stepping inside is a little bit like stepping into the seventies. That's ok, though. In a world of constant change, she is a constant, and she does not change.

       Rather, she is home base. No matter how many of her chicks have left the nest or how far away we have flown, we always come back. Something about the soft lighting, the shag carpet, and the slightly warm temperature inside reminds me there is a safe place to land, even when the world may seem unsafe.

      When life is unsure, and I know prayer is needed, she is the one I call. There is safety in knowing when your voice is heard, and there is a peace knowing someone cares enough to take your burdens as their own. She is that safety. She is an instrument of peace.

      She is one of those delicate pieces of china, like the gravy dish I was never allowed to touch in the cabinet. You want to preserve and protect her, treat her carefully so nothing will break her, because she is needed. She turns the simple into the magical, creates an added element of something special, and a room without her feels her absence.

      Her tears are legendary. I have always marveled at how easily they could flow, and I have always been a little jealous. But in a time where we fight so hard to keep away from the vulnerable, she remains soft. She allows herself to feel.

      Not that she is emotional and allows those feelings to run wild. On the contrary, she is a mystery. Only those who truly know can sometimes detect her genuine feelings. But when she cares, you know.

      And she cares... for the ones who have lost family members, she makes sure they have meals. When someone is hurting, she sends a card. For the little ones on the other side of the world she has never met, she prays.

       Her beauty could never be bought in a bottle. Oh no, we could never afford it.

       Yet her foundation comes from a lifetime spent pouring into others... her students, her family, her friends.

        Her cheeks blush with laughter, as she is happiest when she is with the ones she loves.

        Her eyes are lined with wisdom, shadowed by the years of experience. Life has been beautiful, painful, sometimes all at once, and she has survived.

       Her lips are colored with prayers, with praises, with words of encouragement, and sometimes a little bit of dry humor.

         Her hands are my favorite... wrinkled from years of soothing tears, holding close, playing piano, folding in prayer, driving to doctor appointments and school functions.

         I don't want to be a part of the world where age is feared and wrinkles are to be smoothed away with knives and poison.

        Rather, I want to be a woman like her. I want to make the room a little brighter, the people around me better.

        I want to love, honor, extend grace, and fight as she has done. I don't want to leave a doubt in anyone's mind... stranger or family, that they are loved and valued.

        And today, on her 88th birthday, I want to honor her. My Grannie. You are loved, and you are blessed.

Wandering through Okinawa

      Koza Baptist Church in Okinawa, Japan, has been an amazing supporter of Gentle Hands.  Every year, they send at least three volunteer teams to serve and spend time with our kids. As a result, I have made some amazing friends and have been blessed (through chocolate and non-obtainable American goodies).

      Every time they have come, I have heard stories of all the wonderful things to do in Okinawa, as well as the amazing places to eat. It finally worked out for me to be able to visit for two weeks in July, and let me tell you, Okinawa did not disappoint!

     Rather than simply tell you with words, here are a few of my wanderings through pixels:

We may or may not have visited Family Mart at least 10 times

Monster snow cones at Motherleaf

A pretty epic slide... Okinawa has many parks with amazing slides like this

Beautiful view from a lighthouse

Exploring this lovely waterfall

This color blue...

Reconnecting with my friend Kristen... from small-town Florida to Japan!

Serene beach... Really Okinawa, you have outdone yourself 

Pedicures at Coco's. For years, I have been admiring the toes of the Koza ladies when they

come to Gentle Hands, and it was finally my turn! Definitely a highlight. My feet have never been this fancy. Ok, I'm done. 

My sweet friend Gretchen who opened up her heart and home to us. She is the big sister I always wanted. And she let me cook in her kitchen, so she's brave. 

My dear friend Chelsea and her husband are stationed here. The last time we saw each other 

was five years ago in India. So glad to have the opportunity to reconnect. 

A few other highlights:

1. Okinawan Salt Cookie Ice Cream... I would eat this every day, all day

2. Popeye's sweet tea... Every time we went to the Air Force Base, I would visit Popeye's, and eventually I ended up just buying the gallon. 

3. Meeting a sweet elderly Japanese man in Starbucks and trying to have a conversation. 

4. The 100  Yen store... the Dollar Store, but better (and I ended up buying an embarrassing amount of bowls). 

5. Settlers of Catan... finally learned how to play, and yes, it is addicting. 

Wandering through Pixels

Here is a little taste of life in Manila this week...

One of the "perks" of living at an orphanage is that people love to 

have their birthday parties here. The girls are showcasing their 

amazing and intricate face paint. 

Taking a nap on the beach... or burying himself (I can't figure it out)

Flipping 

(with a little girl just acting casually)

Showering off after a long day of beach fun

I am partial to a Manila sunset

This beauty in red celebrated her 24th birthday this week. Happy Birthday 

Joy-Joy!!! And I am so glad you have hair!

Three weeks is not long enough to spend with this girl. I love being her big sister. 

And finally, this beautiful friend is getting married this weekend!!! I wish with all my heart I could be there, but I am so excited for her. Sometimes you are blessed with amazing people in your life whom you only want the absolute best for. She is one of those girls. And yes, I will be eating cake in her honor. 

When Life Was Made to be Celebrated

            Birthdays have always been difficult for me. I love celebrating someone else's birthday.. I love decorating and picking out gifts and, let's face it, one of my favorite foods is cake. But when it comes to celebrating my own birthday, it's hard. I'm not sure why... Probably because I tend to draw away from attention and it makes me feel uncomfortable.

            But I wanted 25 to be different. Twenty five felt different. Honestly, if you asked me five years ago if this is where I thought my life would be, I would have given you a map with a five year plan that would have nothing to do with living in Southeast Asia.

            I'm a quarter of a century now, halfway to thirty, and it feels... Different. Twenty four was a year of hard moments and a year of being changed, stretched, failing, and forgiving. But turning twenty five felt like a time to celebrate, and it felt like a time to let people celebrate with me.

           So we did. We celebrated because He is good, life is hard but good, and even though there are times when it feels like the world is falling apart, life was meant to be celebrated.

Morning snuggles with my main man

A sweet letter from the bigger girls

After being treated to dinner with a dear friend, I came home and found my room like this!

The bigger girls had decorated with twenty five balloons, chocolate, and flowers. 

Some of my sweet girls and the yummy cupcakes

What's the point of a birthday if there's no cookies and cream milkshake?

My adopted little sister. She's lovely. 

All of the girls and I, tummies full and sugar comas closely approaching!

When the Soul is Thirsty... Closer

      Sometimes a song will come along, and it puts words to what I feel like my heart has been trying to articulate.

      This song, "Closer", is sung by Bethel Music and Steffani Gretzinger.

      For the moments when your soul is aching to go deeper and experience grace in a fresh way. Enjoy friends. 

When you pray for orphans

      We learned that orphans are easier to ignore before we know their names. They are easier to ignore before you see their faces. It is easier to pretend they're not real before you hold them in your arms. But once you do, everything changes. 
                                                                                    ~  David Platt
     

      Have you ever met someone who seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders? Her eyes were downcast. She struggled to smile. Pain had left her shoulders turned to the ground.

       When I met this girl, her very demeanor spoke of a life that had been far too cruel to someone so young. We wondered if she would ever break free.

        But God....

        It's been over a year since the day we met. And she is beautiful. Healing has come from love, a secure home, a place where she belongs, and the realization that she is loved by Him. She walks with her chin up, her eyes bright, her shoulders back.

        She is my ballet assistant, and my emergency bottle fetcher. Where she was once stiff, she moves a little more to the music, and she is finding her grace.

         Her favorite movie is Beauty and the Beast. She loves the color pink, and wants to be a nurse when she grows up so she can help people.

          What is beautiful about this girl is that life, even though it has been cruel, has not stolen her gentleness. She is kind and quick to laugh and make jokes. She is making friends in school and working hard to learn. As one of the older girls, she is also trustworthy as an Ate (big sister). I have seen growth in her, and I have watched her welcome other girls into the home with open arms.

           When you pray for orphans, remember this girl. Remember that He knows her name and has a plan for her life. Ask for a family, for His plans to be fulfilled in her life, and for her heart to heal, knowing she is loved and whole.