The house is empty. No more toddler giggles, squeals and babbles. As children grow up, that very naturally and gradually ends with voices changing octaves and sentences becoming complete—our home’s quietness is not like that. No, this was abrupt. One day happy sounds in abundance, the next day they’re gone. And it hurts.
“Look! Look!” little Boo* said, looking out the airplane window and waving at the ground crew. “Hi dere!” One of the men waved back. “Look” was her newest word, just learned today, and coming out so clear. She and I were on the airplane to fly her out-of-state to where her relative will be adopting her.
Boo is sixteen months old now. We were the foster home little Boo came to when she was five weeks old. Despite a physically hard beginning, she was a perfectly healthy infant. We watched her grow into a thriving, well-adjusted, loving, happy toddler.
Daddy’s little coffee helper. Mommy’s smiling singing buddy. Wheels on the Bus and farmyard songs are still skipping through our thoughts. Along with innumerable more precious memories.
We’ll never get over this pain of loss. But we know Who to lean into. God has sent us so many friends and family members who have helped prop us up. They have signed Boo’s baby album at our going-away prayer dinners, they have texted and emailed, cried with us, worked to distract us, and through it all prayed, prayed, and prayed. For us, for Boo, and for her future family. God loves her even more than we do, and as the children’s song says, He’s got little bitty Boo in His hands.
*Boo is not her real name