Here I stand in an ink-blue, polkadot skirt, smiling at Master Artist Ezra. She often draws portraits and writes love notes with the few words she can spell, to Dennis and me. These we find taped to our bathroom mirror or bedroom door, wherever we may most likely see them. Ezra loves well. When a child invites you into their heart space, the soul is refreshed, unconditional love abounds there.
Not long ago I saw this unfettered love displayed through the actions of a stranger. A Latino grandmother scooped up one of her two charges, spoke brusquely into his chubby face, then set him back on his tottering feet. She leaned forward a bit in her chair and breathed out a rich sigh of pleasure as she gazed lovingly at both children.
Our five Littles sat close to me, devouring soft ice-cream cones at the IKEA café, while I sipped hot coffee. Our uncharacteristically calm demeanor allowed me a few seconds to enjoy the sight of the grandmother's love, expressed in her fussing over clean faces and full bellies, as she coaxed the smallest child to eat his last bite of hotdog. She noticed me watching her and smiled at my crew as she extended her arm in a sweeping motion, "Mama?" I nodded. She continued, in broken English, "Oh, so, so beautiful, hmmm, nice."
In her look and actions, I was acutely aware that she believed I had birthed each of our five youngest children. Women understand women. I began to explain, but she would not let me speak. "No, it's okay, I know...and so, so, so beautiful...and you, yes, yes..." she nodded kindly. Her grandchildren were done and ready to run, as children often are in an instant. She blessed me with her gentle eyes and bustled away.
In these eleven years since our adoption journey began, Dennis and I have had some interesting interactions, been questioned and sometimes felt almost accosted by strange remarks over our diverse family. But I have never seen a reaction to the beliefs of this woman; that I must have had a life with many lovers, husbands or boyfriends... and yet instead of viewing me as one with a Scarlet Letter, she saw me as beautiful!
Condemnation is easily given power over our opinions, like a weed in the garden, it seems to pop up before our very eyes and displays itself vividly through our slightest glance. The accusing thoughts attack quickly and if not wrangled in the instant, destruction of relationship or self-worth is immediate, as quickly as a gash from a dagger wounds. I am in-tuned to this in the intimate choices of a pregnant teenager as well. We say we support life. We say promiscuity in our community is acceptable. However, what is our true view of unplanned pregnancy? Somehow judging the woman is an acceptable form of hypocrisy and condemnation in our society.
Condemnation is easily given power over our opinions, like a weed in the garden, it seems to pop up before our very eyes and displays itself vividly through our slightest glance. The accusing thoughts attack quickly and if not wrangled in the instant, destruction of relationship or self-worth is immediate, as quickly as a gash from a dagger wounds. I am in-tuned to this in the intimate choices of a pregnant teenager as well. We say we support life. We say promiscuity in our community is acceptable. However, what is our true view of unplanned pregnancy? Somehow judging the woman is an acceptable form of hypocrisy and condemnation in our society.
Psalm 119: 22 says, "Remove from me scorn and contempt..." It always starts with me. If I can look on others in the same way that Latino grandmother and my daughter look at me, then you will be loved well...and if you can look at the next face you see in that same manner, then they will be blessed, and...
This is love's portrait.
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