sparrows

Two nights ago, I felt compelled to get out of bed and look at the database.

I've learned my lesson the hard way about the database and I. stay. off. There was a little girl on there, F, whom I've mentioned before. She is the reason I was disappointed to be leaving St. P. She has my eyes. Have you ever looked at those children and seen yourself looking back? It's a powerful thing. She simply and immediately belonged to me. The connection, in one moment, was strong, visceral, spiritual. I wanted so much to bring this little girl home. I have been praying for her and thinking of her. I've seen her sitting on her bed in her bedroom right next to my computer and playing on my living room rug. Her picture is on my 'fridge to this day.

I was told that she has CP. I don't believe this. I simply cannot reconcile it with her photo. I know that photos can be misleading, but I think there was an error made somewhere. I've tried to find more information out about her. But, Russia protects its orphans well. It's not possible to simply make inquiries. I don't even know which children's home she's in. I have a stack of Christmas presents for her and her group that I've never been able to deliver.

When I was told that I would not be allowed to adopt from St. Petersburg, I felt as if I'd lost F. Knowing she couldn't come home, that I'd never hold her hand as we walked down the street, with her face turned up to mine and her eyes dancing as she chattered away, just broke my heart. I know that sounds ridiculous. How can you be so fully attached, feel so loving towards a child you've never met? Surely saying my heart was broken is hyperbole. I can only tell you that God put this child in my heart-and told me to pray. And in prayer she became a little bit mine. I grieved for a long time over her.

When I was urged from my bed two nights ago to go to the database, I thought there must be a little girl in my new region who needed prayer. I trepidatiously put in the age criteria and scrolled through the little faces. While some are dear and they are certainly in need, none of them called out to me the way F had.

After I'd seen all the four-, five- and six-year-olds in that region I decided to click over to see F. She wasn't there. I broadened the criteria and looked through all the five-year-old girls in St. P. She really wasn't there.

My heart leapt! While I know there can be many reasons she's off the database, I choose to believe that someone else looked into her eyes and saw themselves. They smiled at her crooked pigtails. They saw both the uncertainty and the courage in her smile. And they took her home.

My prayer for this little sparrow is that God keeps His eye on her and His arms around her. I pray that she is loved and cherished. I pray that one day in Heaven I will throw my arms around her and cover her with kisses and she will know that I've prayed for her without ceasing.

Believing that F has found a family frees me, in a way, to go and find d2b. Moving to a new flat and away from the bedroom I thought was hers lets me leave her there, contentedly playing with her doll. I don't have to replace her, to put someone else in her picture.

Maybe it's really time.