Becoming an orphan...

The book was a biography of George Mueller, a Prussian man who lived in the 19th century and created an amazing (some would say miraculous) orphan ministry in Bristol, England.  I was reading it aloud with Sweet One and Little Weed #4 over the course of several weeks, and they were always eager to hear what George was up to next. 

Well, one night, we were reading about the opening day of the first orphanage.  The text made mention of the difficulty in finding complete background information for each child given the different circumstances that led to their status as an orphan.  A brief discussion between Sweet One and I about the multiple ways a child at that time could end up living at the orphanage led to the following conversation:

#4:  That not how I get to go to the orphanage.

Sweet One:  What do you mean?

Me:  #4, do you want to tell Sweet One about what happened? 

(I actually wasn't aware that #4 hadn't shared at least part of his story with Sweet One.  We've openly discussed pieces of it in front of her, but I guess she hadn't put those pieces together into a cohesive account.  He proceeded to tell her about the day that his life fell apart, landing him a few days later in the orphanage.)

Sweet One:  #4, that is so sad.  I'm really sorry that happened.

#4: (Looking away, collecting himself) Mom, saying that made me so sad I almost cry.

Me:  I know, buddy.  It makes me sad too.  And sometimes I cry about it because I know it was so sad and scary for you. 

We eventually returned to the book, finished the chapter, and cuddled up for bedtime.  After providing some snuggles, further reassurances about how much he is loved and valued, and more snuggles, he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

I was up for hours afterward.  Even after having him home for a year, I still have such trouble processing all of it.  If I could go back and change his circumstances and take away all that hurt, I would in an instant.   And yet, those circumstances are what brought us together, and I am so very thankful for that.  I'm guessing that I'll spend the rest of my life wrestling with the fact that two of my biggest blessings came to me out of the worst day of someone else's life.  I'll continue to pray for that "beauty from ashes" as we work through it all together.