My Baby Boy

When I first moved to Ghana, I fell in love with a little boy.  Edwin.  He had just turned a year old.  Pigeon-toed little fellow with big wide eyes and long, curled lashes.  He was a beautiful baby boy and I carted him around all the time (despite being warned that I was "spoiling" him). 

When we moved to Doryumu, Edwin moved in with me.  I was excited for the chance to get to mother him a bit and spend even more time with him.  Boy, was I in for an adventure.

Let's just say that Edwin struggled with sleep.  Which meant I struggled with sleep.  Long bouts of crying in the night, lots of rocking, lots of talking and praying, lots of night with very little sleep.  I would be up half the night and then have to go to the school to teach in the morning. 

There were times when I would be up in the middle of the night and would call my mom or a friend for a little visit, knowing that it was in the evening there and perfect time for a long-conversation, while I waited for my baby boy to go back to sleep.

After 8 months, Edwin was moved in to Mama Theresia and Daddy Joe's room as I was leaving for the States for a little visit home.  When I came back, he had fully adjusted there and had been sleeping through the night.  And it was time to move on.

Edwin always had a piece of my heart, but I knew that the season had ended.  God moved and changed and showed me so many things during my time with him.  One thing that he showed me was that parenting is HARD.  And I thought of the single mom's that I know, raising their little ones on their own.  I realized how much they sacrificed for the love of their kids...and I honored them even more for that.

Edwin is in school now and I watch this gangly little boy in our preschool class as he learns his ABC's and runs and plays with his friends...I'm amazed at how much he has grown.

Last week, he had a rough day at school.  He was in the office three times during the day for various problems, and finally, he came at nap time because he was running around his classroom instead of laying down to sleep.

So, I pulled him onto my lap and talked to him about his behavior and he began to lean back into my arms, snuggling into my chest.  It brought tears to my eyes and reminded me of that season.  Now, his legs hung long over my lap as I rocked him back and forth and hummed a little song in his ears.  I stroked his forehead and thanked God for those sweet moments in the middle of the night just a couple years ago.  Even in the frustration, I see now the trust that was built, the hope that he has, the confidence and security.  Now, he is such a tall, gangly little 4 year old boy, full of mischief and whimsy, and I reveled in that sweet moment...him asleep on my lap, cuddling in, and realized, yet again, what a privilege it is to serve the least of these.