Gifts

My first grade teacher taught me many good things.

I had other terrific grade-school teachers, 

but "Miss Stauffer" made impressions that have

endured deeper than the rest.  Perhaps it was because I was an especially

vulnerable student, coming into her classroom half way through

the school year. The public school said I had a learning disability and the only

way they could help was to hold me back. Since my parents didn't think a 7 year old in a pre-first classroom was a good idea, they explored their options which led them to a small, parent-run Christian school (that provided tutoring) and the first grade teacher who not only worked with my direction-impaired mind but also opened up my imagination with effects that rippled right into adulthood.

From her I  took my first journey into the wardrobe and into Narnia (a trip I repeated many times on my own thereafter), learned what an Renoir painting was (and that I could try and replicate it with crayons and 'manilla paper'!), realized that Yardley's Lavender is a beautiful smell, discovered the world crafted by a good story, read to me after lunch, head on my desk after lunch in the darkness of the 'lights out' elementary classroom (funny. I can still smell classroom, the wood desktop my nose would graze during story time).  They were simple gifts, and they were ones that lasted. Speaking of "Simple Gifts"; she also taught me that beautiful Shaker Hymn which seems appropriate as she was a beautiful giver of untangible gifts in my life.

***

Lately I have been pondering and praying for my friends whose wombs stay empty. Month after month they mourn the absence of what comes so easy to so many others. I know of women who have accepted this terrible inequality, and are awaiting "the call" from their social worker regarding the adoption of a little life into their family...and the telephone remains silent. These women are heavy on my heart.   

I once read an excerpt from Laura Bush's book "Straight from the Heart" in Ladies Home Journal magazine. It struck me as so perfectly put. Perhaps you'll agree:

"The English language lacks the words 'to mourn an absence.' For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful, some not. Still, we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only 'I am sorry for your loss.' But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent, ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?"

 ***
With all that I write on motherhood, I desire the women who do not hold the title 'mama' who might actually read this blog, to know that I remember you. I hold you in high esteem. To any woman reading this who live in the shadows of the children you wish you had, I am, quite simply, terribly sorry. I feel preposterous even taking one tiny foot onto terrain I have barely entered one toe in myself, but may I humbly suggest (from experience) that your influence into little lives is not without great and mighty power. A woman who I was introduced to in my seventh year of life, and who taught me for not even a full school year, imparted countless simple and tremendously good gifts into my life that I have carried with me all of my life. I can't help but think you have known children in even closer proximity for longer periods of time. Without wanting in the least little bit to diminish your pain with a shallow appeasement, my heart wants you to know you are as valuable as any woman who wears the title of 'mother'. 

You're influence is powerful,

your unique perspective is life-giving  

and your love is necessary.

In short:

You are a GIFT to the children who know you.

I wish this world weren't so broken as to give children to women who don't want them and withhold them from women who do. It is truly a terrible injustice that I can only trust God will somehow make right when all is made perfect. As you endure another holiday full of pictures posted of families with their offspring decked out in red, white and blue...please know you are remembered. You are prayed for. And you are, undoubtedly, a valuable gift whose presence and influence will be felt by little lives in decades to come.
Today, I salute you...

Love,