Tears

Salome' examined my face with perhaps a centimeter of space between our noses.

"What are those holes!" she wondered.

"Special places for tears," I answered.

Her face lit up, "God is magic!", then after a moment she said,

"And he gives us big teeth after we give up the little ones!"

Last night we gathered to celebrate the Passover meal.

As Pastor Paul explained that we were to dip the bitter herbs in the salt water to symbolize the bitter tears of the Jewish people under slavery, I thought of Salome's birth mother.

Our initial meeting with our pregnant, stunning young birth mother felt awkward at first. She was accompanied by her vivacious mother and our wise social worker, Carol.

This sweet birth mother's affectionate, joyful countenance soon softened the atmosphere and we felt a peace between us. Her resolve was strong, encouraged by her mother who knew hardship and had walked the difficult road of single parenting.

The painful delivery came, eight hours of labor and then the beautiful bundle.

Dennis and I waited two days as Carol cared for and counseled the young indecisive mother and grandmother. For all the plans, the vivid reality of her child's precious life made the decision almost impossible. She was free to change her mind.

Someone would go home without a baby.

I cried for hours. It is difficult to explain the bond between an adoptive mother, a birth mother and a baby. My tears were for all of us, there was joy and pain.

The 11th hour became just that. Close to midnight we received the paperwork, Salome' would be ours the next day. The cycle of fatherless households was broken. The slavery and chaos left by addiction would have no power over this precious baby.

Salome's birth mother and birth grandmother broke the generational chains and chose for Salome' the life they wanted and were unable to give her.

As we sat side by side with Salome' between us, her birth mother kissed every inch of her sweet baby. Finally the moment came. Carol gently asked Salome's birth mother to hand her to me...me, the woman she'd chosen to be her daughter's mother. Dennis and I were told to leave, while Carol and the family stayed back to hold the young woman whose tears poured out in a stream of rushing sorrow. I was blinded by my own tears as I held Salome' close to my chest. Dennis lead us out the door, neither of us could stop despite our desire to run back to alleviate the pain and anguish of loss.

She had done the most generous and selfless act that anyone could do; she had placed her beloved firstborn into our arms. Our hands and hearts would love and care for her Delight; would speak words of life about her selfless choice and communicate our love. One day they will meet again.

I can't help but think of God and his choice to give his precious first born to this world. He gave his son's life as a sacrifice for our sins. He gave him into the hands that would crucify not love and protect him, in order that they, we, might have hope and eternal life.

My greatest joy came because of another's sorrow.

It is good to have holes for tears.