Let Him Go

There must have been fifty children in the room. They live on the outskirts of our city, and they have a community all their own. They have come to the city for work and opportunity, but they come from places along the Amazon river where they live a vastly different kind of life.

Most of them have many brothers and sisters. Most of them began caring for their younger siblings almost as soon as they could walk. Standing on stools to cook, bathing and changing diapers, they are tiny mothers and fathers out of sheer necessity, for their parents are busy working to provide food and shelter.

I know this. Mentally I understand that they are careful and protective of babies, I know they have the ability to carry children for long distances, to do multiple tasks while taking care of smaller ones.

And then they reached their arms up for my child. 

Before I could move, they took him. They carried him across the room and bounced him up and down on their tiny legs. They pinched his cheeks and tousled his different looking hair. They grabbed his feet and stared into his face and tickled him. The surrounded him, speaking a language he did not understand, looking different than anyone he had ever seen.

I stood there and held my breath. My heart was pounding. I did not even know enough Portuguese language to tell them he might rather be with his mama.

“Let him go,” I heard, “I have him.” 

The fierce protectiveness that filled my heart the first time I looked at tiny Titus still swells in me every day. “Let him go?”  

I let him go that day. And he smiled and laughed and played. And my heart was gently reminded by our sweet, good Father of the joy that comes from holding our gifts with open hands.

Your prayers for our family are being answered. We are filled with joy.

Savannah