A Tale of Two Kiddies

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way….” Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

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He slowly wakes up in his crib. Before his eyes open, he says, “Mamama,” and begins to whimper. Before his cry escalates to what can even be called a cry, Momma is there, picking him up, saying “Good morning, love,” giving him milk. While he eats, she holds him close, stroking his back, his hair, his arms, his sweet face. After he eats and dozes on and off, it’s really time to wake up. Momma carries him to his play area. While they walk, she asks, “How did my handsome boy sleep last night? Mmm, you smell so good from your bath last night, I could eat you up!” and she kisses his neck, tickling him and making him laugh. She pulls out a couple toys. “What do you want to play today?” she asks.

She wakes up in her crib. She cries and cries, but no one is coming. She is hungry and calls, “Mamamama,” but no one comes. Momma yells, “Shut up!” from the next room. More cries. Momma throws something, and it hits the door with a loud thud. “I said shut up in there!” Baby girl’s cries turn to a whimper. No one is coming for her, so she stops crying. A roach scurries across the floor. She stares blankly at the wall. An hour passes. Hunger gnaws at her little belly. She begins to cry again. Finally, her momma bursts into the room, fussing at her, “Why can’t you just sleep?!” Momma is hungover. She grabs her baby out of the bed and huffs to the kitchen to make a bottle. Momma puts the baby in the carseat and props the bottle up, so the baby can feed herself. As momma watches daytime television, so does her baby girl. She sits untouched, unnoticed, in her carseat and takes in the language, the violence, the drama, which is her world.

He reaches toward a ball. “Oh, you want to play ball this morning?” Momma asks. She rolls the ball to him, and he giggles and rolls it back. “What a big boy!” she exclaims. “Look at you rolling the ball! What color is the ball? Blue? This is your blue ball!” Daddy comes out from getting ready for work. “How’s my little guy?” He asks his son as he lifts him in the air. The baby laughs and claps his hands. He looks adoringly at his Daddy. Daddy kisses him and hands him back to Momma. He looks contentedly from one parent to the other. Everyday, twenty times a day, they tell him they love him. They pat his back. They hold him close. They feed him, rock him, sing to him, read to him, play with him. He sighs a happy baby sigh.

Meanwhile, her Daddy has come by. He doesn’t acknowledge her but asks Momma a question that upsets her. Her eyebrows furrow, she throws her hands up in the air, she yells at him. He yells back, aggressively. All the while, baby girl is watching from her carseat, sucking air from the empty bottle. Momma asks something, Daddy yells something, and Momma hits him, hard, right in the jaw. Daddy grabs Momma’s arm and twists it until she screams. The sudden noise makes baby girl scream, too. Now, Daddy is yelling at both of them. He kicks the carseat, flipping baby girl out of it. Her head hits the cold hard floor. Everyday, twenty times a day, they tell her she is stupid. They yell at her. They handle her roughly. They ignore, neglect, reject her.

Until one day…Child Protective Services comes and takes her away, away from the only mother she has ever known, the only home she has ever known. At one year old, she has to learn to protect herself, to detach from others, to not trust adults.

We pray for these two children everyday. The first is our son, one of our children. The other is countless children in the foster care system (or those in abusive, neglectful homes), prayerfully one of them is also one of our children.

Our first child is home. We will pray for him every single day, that the Lord would give us wisdom and patience and love. Our other children might just not be home yet. We will pray for them every single day, that the Lord will protect their sweet little spirits and send His Spirit to minister to them until they, too, come home.