The Light of the World
Today is 4 months since Gotcha Day! It honestly feels like an eternity ago. I don’t really even remember life with just one kid, although I am trying to figure out why I used to think I always had my hands full then. I had NO idea. Ha!
Things with Little Man have been going really well. He is processing his grief better and is beginning to learn acceptable ways to show his emotions. He likes to give me a play by play for everything he is doing, “Mommy, I ate a cracker!” “Mommy, I play da drum!” “Mommy, I drink juice!” It can be amusing at times as he wants to show me his empty mouth after each bite or wants me to watch each time he hits the toy drum. He so desperately craves praise and validation. It is a joy to see him light up when we acknowledge a job well done.
We are preparing for Christmas, and I have to admit that I have been looking forward to this Christmas for two years now. Two Christmases ago, we were praying about adoption, and wondering if we had a child alive somewhere else in the world. Last Christmas was so, so painful. I can’t really even describe how difficult it was to exchange presents while being completely preoccupied with the knowledge of Little Man spending the holidays in a crib. This Christmas, we celebrate the birth of the Son, our Messiah, but we also celebrate the “re-birth” of our son. I find myself humming Christmas carols about how God promised His salvation, and thinking that he has indeed kept His word- not only in the salvation of our souls, but the redemption of this precious little life of our son.
On our first trip to meet Little Man, I remember being so overwhelmed when they first brought him into the room. He looked squarely at Hubby, pointed, and screamed, “Daddy!” I remember thinking in that second, “You are fatherless no more.” That moment was the pinnacle of everything we had prayed and waited for. It was everything. I went back to the hotel and posted a very small update on Facebook that I had finally been given the honor of holding my son for the first time. I included a song on that post that had been in my head the whole day. It is a Christmas song, but I couldn’t think of anything more appropriate for a little boy who had never known the love of a dad, and was now, not only in the arms of his earthly father, but also hearing whispers of his worth to The Father for the first time.
So needless to say, this song is incredibly emotional and special to me.
Here are some of the lyrics:
He is the song for the suffering
He is Messiah
The Prince of Peace has come
He has come
Emmanuel
Glory to the Light of the World
For all who wait
For all who hunger
For all who’ve prayed
For all who wonder
Behold your King
Behold Messiah
Emmanuel
Emmanuel
I remember thinking that if Jesus came for anyone, He came for Little Man. He came for a little boy who had known suffering. A little boy who had waited. Who knew hunger. And here we were, simple people, given the beautiful privilege of introducing him to the King for the first time.
Emmanuel. God with us. God in us. I don’t think there is anything left to say but, Glory to the Light of the World.
I have been turning this blog post over in my head for a few weeks now. I told the Hubs that sometimes I write just for an update, but other times words come to me over a period of time that are so intimate, that I can’t do anything but write them down in order to process their depth and impact in my life. I guess that is one of the curses of this century- that I have the ability to write these things for all the world to see. But perhaps, it can also be a blessing.
We have been very intentionally protective of Little Man’s past. Our main reason for that is because he has nothing else that has ever been entirely his own. He wasn’t even allowed to leave the orphanage with the clothes on his back. So for us, we have decided that we won’t share the details of why he was placed for adoption or anything else we know about his past because that is his story to tell. One day when he is old enough to decide, he may choose to share it, but we will leave that choice to him. So for now, we speak in general terms about why many kids in his first country are placed for adoption, but never his true, personal story.
I have discussed with the Hubs if this next bit would betray that gift we have chosen to protect, and we don’t think that it will. I think it will speak to the incredible testimony that Little Man has and the intricate Majesty of our God.
This Christmas, I have had many more things to ponder than years past, and this year, I think I may actually understand the Christmas story in ways I never could have before. One particular area that has struck me is the humility of our Savior’s birth. I always considered the Messiah being born in a stable to be symbolism of just how far He was willing to go in leaving His throne room, but now I see that humble birth in a new light. I see that birth reflected in my own son.
I ache thinking that perhaps there were no balloons or “It’s a Boy” cigars passed around to celebrate the significance of his first gasp for air. And I think about the donkeys that must have snorted hot, thick breath at the first cries of the Messiah.
I think about the hours I spent studying and memorizing Baby Girl’s tiny fingers and nose, and I realize that Little Man spent his first days and weeks undergoing major surgeries, and recovering alone in a crib.
I marvel at the Savior’s poverty in having pigeons or doves sacrificed at his dedication, and Little Man’s shunt being donated because orphans aren’t granted the privilege of that lifesaving surgery by the government.
I groan wondering if Little Man was warm. And I see images of my Lord wrapped in rags.
I weep wishing I could have been there- that it could have been different- that I could have protected him. And I fall to my knees under the realization that the King of Kings would choose such a humble entrance to the world.
Behold your King
Behold Messiah
Emmanuel
The biggest lump in my throat comes when I survey all of these details, and I look in the eyes of Little Man, knowing that at his birth, he was given the name Jesus. Jesus.
We were told that when an orphan is named Jesus, it is typically given to mean, “Only God can save you now.” Although if that is meant as a prayer or a curse, I do not know.
Do you know what the name Jesus means?
The LORD rescues.
For all who wait
For all who hunger
For all who’ve prayed
For all who wonder
So this Christmas, we hold a little boy whose very name is a cry for salvation. Salvation from despair. Salvation from hopelessness. Salvation from hunger. Salvation from brokenness. A cry for salvation.
And we have the incredible honor of carrying him for the first time to the manger, where a baby sleeps. A baby who shares the same name, but a baby who is the fulfillment of a promise.
The LORD rescues.
Jesus.
Emmanuel.
Glory to the Light of the World.
