Anastacia at Gentle Hands
23 August 2012
She was malnourished, weak, and ever so sick. Her mother was cold, disengaged, and unfeeling. She left her with me with no emotion. We couldn’t track down the father.
From the moment of intake, she was in someone’s arms. At first, it was John’s arms. The arms of a father, strong, and sure. Then Phillip held her with prayers of faith on his lips. Then Jordans nurturing, loving arms. Brittany’s soft caresses on her cheeks. Even the children, Catherine, Cherrylyn, laid a hand on her and told her she was beautiful and loved. Colin patted her, “Baby, Baby,” he cooed. And I held her as any mother would. With hot tears of pain, worry, hope, and fear.
We held her close and whispered in her ear how beautiful and precious she was.
We began to nourish her and give her much-needed medicine. I have few answers to the many questions that we all have.
Sometimes, I know, help doesn’t come soon enough.
And sometimes, there is nothing we can do on earth and we must let the angels come on wings of healing and do the ministering and the caring and we must let go.
I know this little one knew what it felt like to be loved. We let her sleep on our chest, and feel our heartbeat. We tried to make up for the year of pain and neglect she had experienced. We gave her a family. Our tears burn as we think of how unfair and how wrong everything is. Our thoughts rage at the unjust treatment and suffering of the least of these. But, we let go… with peace… and trust… and hope… that she is with the one who created her perfectly. Her name meant “Resurrection”. That says it all.
