Yesterday morning, Dr. Carson (Isabel’s pediatrician) phoned to say that Isabel had gone all night without oxygen and was sating at 95%. This was pretty good news to me! It is James’ week with the girls so he and Mélina went and picked up our Isabel and life has resumed to its somewhat-chaotic self. I was missing her so much that I had to stop by and sneak a few kisses from this little girl who was so courageous in the hospital. The bonus part was getting cuddles from Mina, too!
This whole experience seemed different this time. Isabel seemed different. It didn’t seem to bother her as much, and she was rather contented and not needing someone at her side 24-7. This was a real relief from our usual experience of scheduling family at her side, even throughout the night. She just seems like a “bigger girl” now, like a maturity has settled in and a deeper sense of acceptance resides in her.
She has come here to make a difference, I know that much. Sometimes it feels as though she looks at me and says “Learn from me, Mommy, and help the others like me.” Again, a reason I sometimes feel afraid of learning because I fear losing the teacher. She is so patient with me, with all of us, even the nurse inserting her I.V. The way that children are drawn to her as though they hear what she is saying… sometimes I wish I could shed my “big people” boundaries and truly hear her, too.
I tried an experiment with her a few weeks ago. It was the middle of the night and I was lying next to her on her little mattress waiting/praying for her to go to sleep. In the darkness, I could just see her little eyes blinking and staring out at nothing in particular. I was so tired, but for some reason, I figured I’d give what had been stirring in my mind a try…
Without changing my position, I tried “speaking” to Isabel through thought alone. “Isabel, can you hear my thoughts?” Would you believe that she turned her head and looked up into my eyes? A little surprised, I waited for her to turn her head again and resume her aimless blinking. Once again I thought “Isabel, can you hear my thoughts?” My heart pounded when she turned her head towards me again and smiled. A little taken aback, I waited even longer until she nearly seemed ready to sleep and I asked “Okay, sorry but I need to ask you one more time… Isabel, can you hear my thoughts?” and to my amazement, she turned her head, looked up into my eyes and let out one of her exasperated sighs.
Tears filled my eyes and through my thoughts I shared my intentions, my hopes, and my fears… including losing her. She kept eye contact with me the entire outpour and when I was done, she smiled and looked away. At last, I asked her “Can you teach me to hear yours?”
Once again, she turned and looked up at me.
“Isabel, when I feel as though I can hear children calling me… is it the voices of the children who cannot speak?” She smiled.
Some may call that coincidental, but I call it a moment that I will never forget for as long as I live!
Even Mélina had a profound moment when I asked her one day “Mina, if I could do anything in this world to make a difference, where do you see me doing it?” She closed her eyes as though searching Truth, opened them slowly and said with a maturity I have never heard from her before: “Children… sad children… I see you helping them.”
So maybe that’s why I’ve never let go of that big kid in me. I still lick my dessert plate clean (and any plate that had yummy sauce on it J). I still like blowing bubbles and bouncing on the bed. Sometimes I try to have a no-utensil meal which forces us to think beyond the boundaries of “normalcy” and resume to the “normalcy” that guided us as children. I still don’t like household chores (nor paying the bills) and there is nothing on this planet like the feeling of walking barefoot in the mud! Maybe that inner child is meant to help others in some way.
Dear Lord, I hope it is. I believe in humanity, especially with two young children who constantly remind me of the innate goodness in all of us and the stumbling reality of discovering truth through our experiences... good and bad. I look at all of you! See how quickly the list of addresses grows! See how you are a part of this, you are included, this entire network simultaneously being touched by one life and simultaneously growing in faith. That is what makes you my family. You truly are my spirit family.
How blessed am I? How blessed are we?
I continue to humble myself before the example of Christ’s love in our children of the Earth, and I will continue to humble myself before the honour He has presented me as “Mother” to these two beautiful children. (I will do my best to remember this very statement when I am cut off in traffic!)
Thank you all once again for your prayers and wish us luck on this journey (especially the mind-reading part cuz that’s a little outside the box – even for me!). I love you all and send my prayers to find you with this message.
God bless you all, my family!