I see her, a tall Hebrew woman, struggling to stand. Nestled inside her body is the weight of a child, ready to arrive. Her mind is troubled. Restless nights after sleepless nights are confirmed in the dark circles underneath her eyes. The husband seems distressed too, his hands shaking. Working as a slave, forming bricks, he begs God. Tears fill their eyes, as husband and wife, apart yet together in their anxious worry, entreat the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob…
…for a daughter.
The pain is still fresh and pulsing through her body. A life, pink and screaming, placed into her arms overwhelms her heart. She turns her head from the apprehensive face of the midwife. I will love my child for one, simple and pure moment, before you tell me.
She closes her eyes, pulling the new life close, refusing to let anyone stay. Soon, only the proud parents are left. Their eyes meet. Their tears mingle as they gaze upon their son. We will keep him for as long as we can. The father lays a soft kiss on his son’s head, his wife’s hand grips his tight. Fear fills their eyes as soldiers walk down the road.
The next three months are hard. Torturous. Hiding a child is hard. Loving a son who doesn’t exist is almost impossible. Eventually they must talk. It can’t go on like this.
I thought that our God would save him. I believed that he could remain ours. Why did He give us a son to love, just to tear him away from us? Just to rip my heart apart?
Trembling, she bathes him one last time. Nourishes him from herself, savoring the closeness. Then, tenderly placing him in the center of the large basket, she can’t hold back the tears. Mama, why are you crying? A gentle voice calls up to her; her daughter, a blessing.
She almost turns back many times on the walk to the river. Baby sleeps soundly. Mother’s heart continues to crumble.
But there is truth in what her husband said. And there is truth in the choice that her family has finally convinced her of.
Home was no place for their son.
And so, trusting in the Hand that created the gentle waves, she lets it go. She lets him go. A basket drifts down the river; a baby drifts off to sleep. Her eyes burn as they follow the basket’s every rise and every fall.
It was his only chance.
Does this sound familiar? The pain… the choice… the heartbreak…? Then it was boys; today, girls. It’s not just one country’s laws or a society’s ancient culture. It’s a world of sin – painful sin- that costs family’s their children and children their lives.
How much longer until the cry of the orphan will be no more?
Wait just one minute. The story above is obviously (if you know your Exodus) about Moses, the baby boy who was “rescued from the waters.” And Moses grew. He was adopted by the Pharaoh and became great. He was called by his God and he became a messenger. Moses was abandoned, adopted, rejected and restored. Miracles were preformed in his life and through his life. Lives were saved.
Beauty from ashes.
The cry of the orphan is an awful sound, but it does not mourn forever because there is a great Comforter. Adoption, restoration, redemption and hope overcome the pain and sorrow of this world.
River, Oh river
Flow gently for me
Such precious cargo you bear
Do you know somewhere
He can live free?
River, deliver him there
When Hannah traveled to China in 2002 with her parents to adopt her sister Elisabeth, she fell in love with the country and people. In 2004, when her other sister Naomi was adopted, she started dreaming of going back. It took 5 years for that dream to come true. She now serves in a foster home for special needs orphans in China. Hannah spends her days studying, writing for the foster home and on her personal blog, Loving Dangerously, and most importantly, holding babies. Hannah loves the adventure of living overseas with her family. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it.