This morning, you were sitting on your brother’s lap next to me on the bus with a backpack that was twice your size and a hat that was far too big for your little head.
Yesterday, you were riding your scooter around the park, laughing as your abuela chased you round and round, making sure you were always a few steps ahead of her, yet never out of sight.
And again I saw you fast asleep on a young woman’s shoulders as the two of you walked home from the market. Her mayan scarf held you tightly and safely against her back as you slept so soundly amidst the hustle and bustle of the town square.
I saw your tiny hands helping to lay the foundation for your soon to be home. The man patiently watched and did the heavy-duty jobs as you played in the rocks and mud like little boys do.
I saw you sporting matching soccer jerseys with all of your friends, the aspiration to become all-star athletes all too obvious in your eyes as you watched soccer outside of the electronics store.
I see you in the bus, the market, and the street; in fact, I see you everywhere. No matter where I go, you are there, and I can’t help but staring for a few seconds longer than I should or taking that second glance behind my shoulder to assure myself that it’s really you I’ve been running into ever since I got here.
However, when I take that second glance, I realize that it was not really you I saw on the bus this morning. You weren’t in the park with your abuela yesterday, and you weren’t fast asleep on that young woman’s shoulders on the way home from the market. You weren’t the “right-hand man” at the construction site of your new home, and you weren’t cheering on your favorite soccer team with your friends this afternoon when I passed by the electronic store.
No, it can’t be you I see because you are 2,513 miles away, sitting in the back of a KIA optima, not a chicken bus; you are riding a bicycle around the cul-de-sac, not a scooter around the square; you are sleeping soundly in your sports themed bedroom comforted by your blankets and teddy bear, not swaddled in a mayan scarf; you are playing in the creek behind the house with your best friend, not building a house with your small hands; you are playing Madden 2k17 on the couch, not watching soccer outside of an electronics store.
You are not here in Antigua, Guatemala because you are 2,513 miles away, so why do I see your face everywhere I turn?
I see you because these little boys, the boys that resemble your sassy little self, very well could have been you. You could be walking these streets and playing ball with boys like these, but you’re not. You are at home with Mom and Dad, fighting with Megan and causing just as much trouble as you were 6 months ago when I left. From the moment I laid my eyes on you, my heart was sold, and as a result, a piece of me instantaneously was rooted ever so deeply here in Guatemala without me even knowing it. I’ve always loved you, I have, and I’ve always been thankful for your sweet, little self; however, these days, that love and gratitude for you has taken on a new form.
This weekend, Easter weekend, we celebrate the greatest day in history. We celebrate the risen King and the victory over sin and death. We celebrate a bridged gap between us and the Father, and we celebrate a Kingdom come and a will being done. Through the cross, we celebrate family, an eternal family of sons and daughters bought with a price, and we celebrate a Father’s great love for His children. Because of this weekend, the stamp of approval was marked upon each and every one of our eternal adoption papers, making it possible for us to be adopted into Heaven’s sweet, sweet family, and as I sit here, constantly being reminded of why my heart is innately rooted in this place, I also celebrate an earthly adoption that changed my life forever.
Gabriel Ortiz Jackson, YOU are the boy who has stolen my heart, and yes, I’ll (hopefully) find a man one of these days who will sweep me off my feet and give my heart all of the butterflies, but you, little man, will always be my number one. YOU will always hold the most special of places in my heart, and in this particular season of my life, you ought to know that my love has never run deeper for you.
Today, I thank the Lord for not only adopting me as a daughter through the resurrection of Easter morning, but also for allowing me to adopt you as my little brother.
I love you, little man, more than you could ever know.
Love,
Your Big Sister
