Yesterday, I finished a draft of a blog about Thanksgiving. Tonight, I was led to write something I never intended to share publicly. But here I am – God has interrupted my plans (again) and so grateful he did. Be blessed!
I remember this story from my childhood so vividly. Let’s visit 1987; I was 5 years old or so. There was a lady at the gate. I did not know who she was but my mom greeted her and visited for quite some time. My Ate (big sister) decided to pick on me that day. She said something to the extent of, “…that lady at the gate, that’s your real mom..she’s coming to take you home.” Being the intelligent little girl that I was, I did not believe her. There was no way she was telling the truth. I just knew she was lying until she provided evidence. She pointed out that because I had a much darker skin tone than my siblings, we weren’t related. She had such a serious tone like she was doing me a favor by setting me free with the truth. Then her witness came forward. Mom returned to where we were and my Ate asked, “..that lady is her real mom, right?” I looked at her, held my breath while she uttered “Why did you reveal this to her???” I lost it. I felt so unwanted. I didn’t know who I belonged to. So I went into my room, grabbed a plastic bag and began packing my clothes. I wanted to leave and find a new family who wanted me. I believed I made it all the way to the gate. I don’t recall how I stopped crying or who stopped me.
It was only several months ago that I realized I was still carrying the heartbreaking story with me. Even knowing it was a joke and untrue, it didn’t matter. In my memories, there’s a bird’s eye view of the 5 year old me packing up her tiny clothes in a tiny plastic bag and no one’s around to comfort her. She feels alone. She feels unsafe. She feels orphaned. I want to stop her from packing, face her towards me and embrace her. I want hold her until she ceased crying and felt worthy to be loved.
On the race, I may have an encounter with an orphan or several. We will have different stories but I hope the 5 year old me will help relate to the least of these. Father God, as you will, let my arms be your extension. Truly, break my heart for what breaks yours. In your Son’s loving name, amen.
