A couple nights ago my world was rocked and it hasn't stopped shaking.
I was a normal day. I came home from work, checked my email while Landon played at my feet and then checked my facebook notifications. I always enjoy reading what other people have posted in the Reece's Rainbow groups that I am a part of. Ryan and I truly did not know how blessed we were when we partnered with Reece's Rainbow to help us save the lives of our precious boys. Now, everyone just feels like family. I love hearing about and seeing the pictures of children who were just added to Reece's Rainbow or children who have been found by their families, but this notification was different.
It was short and to the point...
Stacey had died.
Up until this point I had never seen Stacey's picture. I read the little I could see of her profile and learned that she had been transferred to an institution, had down syndrome, was tiny and in desperate need of a family to rescue her. I clicked on her link so that I could read the whole profile, but it took me to a blank white page.
My heart broke inside.
I posted her picture on my facebook wall hoping that people would see her face and be moved to change.
Three days later and her picture still sits on my facebook wall.
Time passed after I saw her sweet face. I replied to some emails, scanned some documents, played with Landon, but God wasn't letting me forget.
I was holding my Landon in my arms when the damn broke.
I lost it.
I sobbed and sobbed...
I sobbed for every child that spends their days imprisoned in an institution.
I sobbed for my Ivan and Levi... because I'm terrified for them... but most of all...
I sobbed for Stacey.
I sobbed for this little angel that I had never seen before an hour prior.
I sobbed because she had spent her whole life waiting for love...
waiting for the body of Christ...
and we never came for her.
I wiped my tears, put Landon down for his nap, and went about the rest of my day, but I couldn't deny this pain that was seeping out of my heart, this grief.
That night when Ryan got home I was sitting on the couch. I was trying to focus on school, but I just couldn't. Ryan knew that something was wrong so he came over and talked to me and through my sobs I told him about Stacey.
I told him I was just heartbroken for her.
She deserved so much more.
I asked Ryan if he really thought that the life she lived was the good and prosperous plan that God had written out for her?
He just shook his head with tears in his eyes.
I told him that I believe God had redemption in store for her, but we failed him.
I told him, "I wonder if God just couldn't take seeing her suffer any longer so He came to her rescue because we wouldn't listen, because the church wouldn't fight and ransom her. I imagine Jesus going to her, taking her by the hand, and telling her all the things that a mama and papa should have told her.
I bet He told her she is loved.
I bet He told her she is fearfully and wonderfully made.
I bet He told her she is beautiful.
I see Him wrapping her in His arms, squeezing her so tight, and whispering in her ear that He is sorry, so so sorry, that she had to suffer so much pain.
I see His tears falling in her hair.
and then I see him wiping her hair away from her beautiful face, lifting her chin so she can look right in His eyes, and saying "You are safe now my daughter, you will never be alone again."
I sobbed and sobbed...
Ryan held me and I just cried.
"That is what the body of Christ should have done for her."
Where were we?
I'm sure that hundreds if not thousands of people scrolled over Stacey's picture, but no one chose her.
No one said "Yes Lord I'm willing."
Maybe people made excuses why they couldn't adopt her, maybe they said "someday."
But now Stacey's picture is no where to be found.
The only chance of her redemption on this earth has been wiped clean and the content about her has been erased.
I just don't know how we can justify this church?
Have we grown so insensitive and numb to the pain of this world?
One of the things that came out of my mouth that night, through my grief, was "we say we're pro-life... We're hypocrites.
It's not enough to protect the life of the unborn, what about the perfect lives that have been born, but haven't truly been allowed to live a day in their lives?
Can we forget about them.
Can we read about them, but go back to our normal lives?
This is Stacey.
Her picture was never hung on anyone's wall or made the wallpaper on anyone's cell phone.
She was never held and rocked to sleep by a mothers sweet embrace.
She was never told that she was beautiful.
She was never given a chance to learn and explore the world.
She lived her whole life in a crib and in a crib she passed from this horrific existence into paradise.
Her precious tiny little body was thrown into a hole, probably with many other children.
No family members surrounded her grave. No one cried or grieved over the loss she has left in their lives.
It could have been so different for her.
I truly believe that God had a magnificent future in store for this girl, if only we would have been His hands and feet for her.
Ryan and I were told the other day that we don't even know how hard life is going to be once we get our Ivan and Levi home. "You may think it will be hard, but it is going to be 10x harder than you could ever imagine."
Ya know what... that person may be right. It is going to be hard for us. Life is going to be uncomfortable. We are going to have sleepless nights and probably many mental breakdowns, but no matter how hard it is, we will never regret it.
Did you hear me, we will NEVER regret it!
Because what kind of Christians would we be if we pass on saving the life of a child because redeeming that precious life will be "hard?"
No matter how hard it may be, it is NO WHERE close to the pain and suffering these CHILDREN face on a daily basis.
WAKE UP CHURCH!!!
Could we let God break our hearts?
Could we dare to feel an ounce of the pain God feels for His precious ones?
Could we dare to weep some tears on behalf of these precious lives that Satan has captured, tortured, and wasted.
Could we dare to step out in faith and be "uncomfortable?"
Could we dare to fight for the love of a child?