We began the journey in the dark.....a three hour drive from the capital city. As we traveled east the sky began to turn pink and then as though there was no time to waste, the sun, beautiful and blinding.
This was the day......
The day we would take our daughter through the front doors of the orphanage....to forevermore be loved and cherished.
The day we would pay tribute to those children who left that orphanage through the back doors.....to be laid to rest....forevermore loved and cherished in the arms of Jesus.
We drove through the town continuing to the outskirts...winding roads...off in the distance the hills were white with headstones....honoring the lives of those now gone.
We parked at the entrance. Women their backs bent, their hands wrinkled, faces creased, selling flowers, roses, carnations, wild flowers. We buy flowers....They will be able to feed their families tonight.
We are not sure where to go....where were these forgotten children laid to rest? Past the white headstones, farther we drive, the road is no longer paved, the grave markers are now wooden crosses. How many...how many? We are searching for one. We have received permission to honor one.
I do not need permission to weep for them all.
With deep grief and sadness we announce that Hristina M----I-----passed away on November 09, 2015, at the age of 5 years old.
The most fragile bloom, a small green branch that was snapped,
Her life wasted away like a tiny flame
And our grief doesn't, doesn't have an end,
And our mourning is a dark night.
WITH LOTS OF LOVE AND ENDLESS SORROW!
The funeral will take place on November 11, 2015, at 10:00 am in S----Z-----
From the grieving"
We have found her.....this little girl so full of life.
This little one who for five years was hidden away, ignored, starved. How ironic that in death she is recognized. In death her name is known.
Tears of grief. Tears of anger. Tears of regret.
We light a candle, we place our flowers and an angel, we say a prayer.
I lay my hand on that rocky soil and I tell her how very sorry I am.
I tell her that her life mattered, that she was the most special girl.
I tell her her mama loved her deeply, her mama knew her worth, her mama did her very best to get to her in time. But God needed her first.
I slowly stand and look over the endless sea of wooden crosses and I know in that sea are others...so many others.
Children we never heard about, orphans who by all intents and purposes never existed.
How can that be?
Oh God ,these little ones....these children who live behind those closed doors...how can they live and suffer and die and never feel the loving touch of a mama, never feel that tickle of a daddy's whiskers, never know they are worthy.
“Let us touch the dying, the poor, the lonely and the unwanted according to the graces we have received and let us not be ashamed or slow to do the humble work.”
― Mother Theresa
We are silent as we leave.
We travel to the orphanage ....the place where these forgotten children live. My daughter waits for me. It is time.
But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven."