Hey Buddy,
I've been thinking a lot about you. I realize that might sound silly to you. Even though I loved you, you never knew me as a momma. Well, you never knew me at all I suppose. I've been thinking about you and about your momma. I've been thinking about the two women who loved you a whole lot, and working out some things in my head. Maybe not real things, but possible things, and they are things that give me a lot to think about.
I've been thinking about your momma. About how she left you at a bus station. About how here, in America we really look down on that kind of thing. But how there, in Ethiopia, sometimes a momma just doesn't know what else to do. Sometimes a momma kisses her little boy goodbye and leaves him somewhere she knows that he will quickly be found and taken somewhere where he can be cared for. At the orphanage where he ends up, no one will look right or feel right to him, cause they aren't his momma. But there will be food! And clean clothes! And warmth! And medicine! And HOPE! That's what a momma must be thinking about when they leave their tiny beautiful baby boy in a bus station and walk away.
If I was your momma in Ethiopia and I couldn't feed you, I don't know what I would do. Would I just keep doing the best I could knowing I might have to watch you starve to death? Would I pray to God to protect you from the pain and sorrow I've had in my short life? Would I leave you, hoping you would be adopted by a momma a whole world away who would love you like her own? I just don't know.
I have to imagine that your momma prayed for you before she left. Maybe she prayed that you would never have to suffer the same struggles that she had. I don't know, but that's what I would pray if I was raising my sweet girls in a hard place.
This momma? Waiting here. Just praying you would be healthy and safe and know you were loved until I could come and get you. Praying we would get to travel before the courts closed. Praying Adam's boss wouldn't mind us leaving on short notice.
God answers prayers. I believe that. What I have to believe is that your momma prayed that you would be spared the sorrows of this world and that God heard and answered her. And she wasn't there when you left. And neither was I. But I can promise you that you were loved by two mommas, and that's a lot of love right there. And I have to believe that you could feel that. That you could feel the love of two mommas who are glad you won't ever hurt or grieve or experience the injustice of the world, but who miss you just oh-so-much.
I think about how if your mom had found and enrolled in one of those sponsorship programs, would I have clicked on your family picture and agreed to give $30 a month to help you live. Would I be willing to give you the equivalent of one meal eaten out each month to keep you alive and with your mom? I'd like to say yes. I do that, I do sponsor a family in Ethiopia, just one. But I also spend way more money each month on other things. Could I have looked at your face and then decided to spend my $30 somewhere else? I know I have it to spare...
Little Guy, I'd have given everything I have to bring you home and clothe you, feed you, take you to the doctor and the ice cream shop, but I couldn't. And then I stop and think how many times have I turned my head from others like you who needed help, can I love them like that? Could I love them enough to really sacrifice to help them just like I would have done for you? It's what we are called to do, isn't it?
Baby Boy, five months isn't much time to make an impact. Most of us can't brag that we've influenced anyone at all for the better, maybe in months, or in years. But you? In five months you've opened the eyes of hundreds of people. So many people I know are much more aware of the needs of orphans and families in Ethiopia now. Your story is sad from a worldly perspective, and if I could change it, yes, I believe I still would. But you, Caleb Temesgen, you aren't just a sad story, because I will never, ever forget you and I know that your short little life will influence others to do better. To give more. To love more. To stop worrying about the emotional, physical, and financial risks of loving and helping another person. To see the hurt and the need in this country, your country, and the rest of the world. To stop looking in selfishly and start looking out selflessly. I will remember you and work harder to help other little fellas just like you. Your memory will help me open my eyes and my heart to all the other little Calebs out there, and their mommas.
Thanks Buddy for listening to me ramble, and for helping me become a better person.
Love,
Your Momma
I've been thinking a lot about you. I realize that might sound silly to you. Even though I loved you, you never knew me as a momma. Well, you never knew me at all I suppose. I've been thinking about you and about your momma. I've been thinking about the two women who loved you a whole lot, and working out some things in my head. Maybe not real things, but possible things, and they are things that give me a lot to think about.
I've been thinking about your momma. About how she left you at a bus station. About how here, in America we really look down on that kind of thing. But how there, in Ethiopia, sometimes a momma just doesn't know what else to do. Sometimes a momma kisses her little boy goodbye and leaves him somewhere she knows that he will quickly be found and taken somewhere where he can be cared for. At the orphanage where he ends up, no one will look right or feel right to him, cause they aren't his momma. But there will be food! And clean clothes! And warmth! And medicine! And HOPE! That's what a momma must be thinking about when they leave their tiny beautiful baby boy in a bus station and walk away.
If I was your momma in Ethiopia and I couldn't feed you, I don't know what I would do. Would I just keep doing the best I could knowing I might have to watch you starve to death? Would I pray to God to protect you from the pain and sorrow I've had in my short life? Would I leave you, hoping you would be adopted by a momma a whole world away who would love you like her own? I just don't know.
I have to imagine that your momma prayed for you before she left. Maybe she prayed that you would never have to suffer the same struggles that she had. I don't know, but that's what I would pray if I was raising my sweet girls in a hard place.
This momma? Waiting here. Just praying you would be healthy and safe and know you were loved until I could come and get you. Praying we would get to travel before the courts closed. Praying Adam's boss wouldn't mind us leaving on short notice.
God answers prayers. I believe that. What I have to believe is that your momma prayed that you would be spared the sorrows of this world and that God heard and answered her. And she wasn't there when you left. And neither was I. But I can promise you that you were loved by two mommas, and that's a lot of love right there. And I have to believe that you could feel that. That you could feel the love of two mommas who are glad you won't ever hurt or grieve or experience the injustice of the world, but who miss you just oh-so-much.
I think about how if your mom had found and enrolled in one of those sponsorship programs, would I have clicked on your family picture and agreed to give $30 a month to help you live. Would I be willing to give you the equivalent of one meal eaten out each month to keep you alive and with your mom? I'd like to say yes. I do that, I do sponsor a family in Ethiopia, just one. But I also spend way more money each month on other things. Could I have looked at your face and then decided to spend my $30 somewhere else? I know I have it to spare...
Little Guy, I'd have given everything I have to bring you home and clothe you, feed you, take you to the doctor and the ice cream shop, but I couldn't. And then I stop and think how many times have I turned my head from others like you who needed help, can I love them like that? Could I love them enough to really sacrifice to help them just like I would have done for you? It's what we are called to do, isn't it?
Baby Boy, five months isn't much time to make an impact. Most of us can't brag that we've influenced anyone at all for the better, maybe in months, or in years. But you? In five months you've opened the eyes of hundreds of people. So many people I know are much more aware of the needs of orphans and families in Ethiopia now. Your story is sad from a worldly perspective, and if I could change it, yes, I believe I still would. But you, Caleb Temesgen, you aren't just a sad story, because I will never, ever forget you and I know that your short little life will influence others to do better. To give more. To love more. To stop worrying about the emotional, physical, and financial risks of loving and helping another person. To see the hurt and the need in this country, your country, and the rest of the world. To stop looking in selfishly and start looking out selflessly. I will remember you and work harder to help other little fellas just like you. Your memory will help me open my eyes and my heart to all the other little Calebs out there, and their mommas.
Thanks Buddy for listening to me ramble, and for helping me become a better person.
Love,
Your Momma
Beautiful. This is heartrendingly moving. Thank you.
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