Can your heart contain so much love for a child that when you hold them closely, it is but one heartbeat you feel and hear? I believe this to be true because our united pulse continues to resonate deep within the cavity of my soul as though it were yesterday. The journey begins.
Night after night, I reached for her small slumbering body, cuddled her tight to my chest and vowed, by the grace of God, to protect this precious gift He so graciously bestowed upon us. I dreamt of her future, anticipated our late night talks and smiled at the memories to come.
Our vision for her life was that of a pristine and polished window. As expected, with the passing of time, small smudges and wear-marks began to appear from each storm that beat heavily against the glass. We did our best to wipe it clean and shined what we could from the outside, but the affects took its toll and our efforts seemed futile. The window view became distorted and we slowly lost sight of the one looking out from behind the glass. I held my hand tight to the window. Though it became more difficult to see her through the darkness, I knew she was there because and I felt her heart beating, beckoning for help from an unknown world which consumed her.
She now lives away from us in a cell that only listens but cannot speak of the many tears it has witnessed or the heartache that bleeds through its dampened walls. We continue to work on shining our side of the window so that when she makes her way back to the light, with polish in hand, we will see clearly the love that binds us so deeply. My hand remains upon the glass.