There is a little boy. With huge, deep brown, trusting eyes. He’s a beautiful, sober baby. He studies things. He is slow to adjust to new things. He is precious. And … I’ve fallen in love with him.
He has not been my easiest little one. It took almost 4 days before I could hold him close without him crying in pain. I have spent hours lying beside his play mat talking to him. Just letting him get used to me, my voice, my face.
Then, even after he recognized me, he did not want me. He never cried for me. He never cried for food. He never cried for his naps. I felt frazzled. Disconnected. Poured out. I prayed for a change. I worried. I cried out to God to help this precious little boy begin the hugely important journey of attachment. Of self-advocacy. I prayed for this little one to have a voice. To begin to trust.
And then, one day it happened. He fell for me. He cried for me. He reached for me. His little body relaxed in my arms. He began to recognize his need. He began to rely on me.
And that is the day I realized that what I had prayed for, cried out for, begged for God to give me, was a broken heart.
A switch was flipped in me that day. I fell fiercely in love with a precious little person. I had loved him before that day. I loved him instantly. But this. This was deeper. This was scary. This was hard. The minute those eyes looked up and connected with mine. The minute that little body relaxed against me. The minute I felt the shuddering sigh. I knew. This was deeper.
Deeper hurts. Deeper is out of my control. Deeper asks for things I’m not sure I want to give. Deeper requires everything. All of me. Vulnerable. Open. Broken.
This deeper is a heart that is torn to shreds over and over and over again. A pain piercing places I didn’t know existed. Tears that can’t decide whether to rejoice or weep in agony.
You see, this little boy isn’t my little boy. He is. But he isn’t. I’ve met his mother. I’ve begun to love her. I’ve prayed for her. Wept for her. Rejoiced with her. Been angry at her. Understood her. I’ve handed him over to her waiting arms while my heart ripped in two again. I’ve jealously rejoiced when I have him back in my arms again. I’ve seen the pain on her face and known that my own is a mere trifle compared to hers. I’ve watched her struggle. I’ve watched her win. Watched her lose. And the deeper takes on a new form. A new face. A new kind of love.
This deeper takes all of me. Brings me to the end of myself. Draws me to my knees. Sometimes in failure. Sometimes in humility. But always in desperation. There is no answer in myself. This deeper cannot come from me. I am not strong enough. I am not loving enough. I am not enough.
And so, I turn. I turn, and I run. I run into His arms. Deeper. Deeper.
Because He is deeper still.
~ for Robby on 11.11.15