A baby boy, a pink onesie, and a miracle.

          A family trip to Ecuador changed everything. And now nothing feels the same as it did before.
          A couple from our home church in California quit their jobs, sold their home, and moved with their two children to Ecuador to start an orphanage and save babies. We joined the church after they were already gone, but we heard all about them and their home for children in Ecuador,  called "Fathers heart."  Their very first baby died in Melinda's arms, but when we arrived at the church,  we were told the orphanage was now flourishing, and a new home was being built on the property for special needs children. 
      A couple years later,  after God did many things, too many to share for the sake of this story, Paul took our family of five on a mission trip with our church to Father's Heart orphanage in Quito Ecuador.
     During our 10 day trip, my oldest daughter worked with a team of young adults, while the men and boys made concrete and helped with construction of a therapy pool for their handicapped children. That left my youngest daughter and I to work in the Orphanage with the babies. Their precious care givers loved it when extra hearts and hands showed up to help them. Their jobs were long, and hard, and most of these women had families and little ones at home to care for as well.  

      And so...we  loved on the babies. We fed them, changed them, rocked them, and took them in front packs whenever we went into town to shop. The baby I bonded with was named James. He was four months old and had trouble keeping formula down. He had to be fed slow or he would throw it all up. He was finally growing though, finally thriving, and now he waited for his forever family. He was beautiful. His smile made me melt, and within a few days, I loved him. 

     One day, my daughter and two of her friends from our church asked if we could all take our babies to an outing at the mall. Surprisingly, the people in charge said, "Sure. When do you want to go?" So the next day, that's exactly what we did. 

     The Mom of one of the other girls from our church helped load the four of us into a van with 2 strollers and 2 front packs and off we went. 

     After arriving at the mall, we settled the babies into the carriers and strollers, and waved goodbye. "I'll pick you back up in about an hour or so," Heidi told us, "There's a place where you can sit not to far from these doors. I'll look for you there." So with smiles and diaper bags and babies, the girls and I headed inside. We walked around and window shopped and the girls bought treats. Then two of the girls babies needed changing, and another one needed to be fed. Then one began to cry. It was about this time that the 11 and 12 year old Mommies realized this thing they were doing was harder than it looked. When all the babies finally            settled down again, the girls asked if they could pop into a store we saw and try on some clothes. "Please?" They begged with folded hands and the sweetest of smiles. "We'll hurry. We promise." 

     "You can't leave me here with four babies." I told them. "I'll take Marinella, Mom," my daughter told me, patting her baby girl through the pack on her chest. " And Heidi will be here soon. We'll hurry, Okay." Then they blew kisses and waved as they hurried off. 

     Things were fine for awhile, then two of the three babies in my care began crying. One wailed so loud, that I had to take her from the stroller and hold her. I bounced her snuggled up beside James in my front pack, while I pushed the stroller back and forth with my foot hoping to sooth the baby inside that. 

     When Heidi arrived in the mall and saw me with all the babies she picked up her pace, and I couldn't help but laugh by the time she reached me. She took the crying babe from my arms. "The girls just went to try on some clothes,"  I told her. "They changed them and fed one. The babies were happy as clams when they left."

     Heidi was laughing now too. "Of course they were." 

     When the girls returned with packages, my daughters baby was fussy in her front pack, but all the others had settled down. I told them about the state Heidi had found me. "I probably looked like a cartoon character," I said, and the girls apologized through their giggles.  But the girls learned a lot that day about taking a baby to the mall. It was quite an adventure. 

     The next few days, we stayed on site. I had James with me all the time, and I knew Paul could tell that something was happening in my heart. "Will you come with me when I put James down for the night?" I asked him. "I want to talk." So as I tucked the sleeping boy into his crib, Paul asked me what was up. "I'm in love with this baby." I said as tears fell onto my cheeks. "I think I want to take him home." Paul stared at me. "You mean adopt him?"

     "I don't know." I said honestly, "But I think I want to." 

     Paul squeezed my hand and a long silence followed. It was a big ask, I knew. And we were busy people and raising kids was hard, what was I thinking. And yet, I couldn't stand the thought of leaving this baby behind. 

     We spent the next few days praying about it and then Paul said he was willing to ask some questions concerning the possibility, so that's what we did. Melinda said she'd look into it, and so we waited.   

    

     A few days later, we all piled into Vans. The day had come to go to the dump and feed the people who lived there.  The babies did not go with us that day.  I knew that we were doing this. People from our church had done it before, and we had been talking about it since before we even left the states. What I did not know, however, was what I would see, what I would feel, and what God would do.  

     Everybody had been assigned jobs before hand. We had several drawstring bags of soccer balls for the kids to give away and play with. The children who did not want to play soccer, were given large bags of animals cookies to pass out. Another group, mostly adults and young adults, were equipped with jugs of water, shampoo and toothpaste to wash hair, and brush teeth. 

     I had not been assigned a job that day. I said I didn't want one, and wasn't really sure I would even go. I was a bit overwhelmed with feelings and possibilities and really just wanted to stay at the orphanage with James. But my husband and kids wanted me to join them, so I went.  The people at the dump knew we were coming. We had been told that when they saw the vans pull in, the people would appear and line up with cups or jugs or whatever they had to put soup in, and then we would serve them. Before we left, the biggest pot of homemade chicken soup I'd ever seen was loaded in to the back of one of the Vans, alongside a very large box of bakery buns, and we were off.

     My oldest daughter was part of the crew that would feed them, so she rode in the back holding onto the hot soup pot. 

     When we arrived, everyone climbed out of the vans and carried off what they needed for their duties, so I followed them. But, but when I stood on the ground of that place, what unfolded in front of me, was something I was not prepared for. 

     I not sure you could, actually, ever be prepared for it, as woman and men and children climbed out of cardboard boxes, broken lean-tos, and stood watching us. I couldn't move.

     I thought my heart, already swollen tight with love for a baby I'd met just days before, might break in two at the sight.  

     There was no running water at the dump so these people couldn't bath. There clothes were filthy. Their hair matted. Their teeth rotting. Their hands and fingernails... 

    I didn't feel present watching the movement around me. I saw our kids kicking soccer balls with the dump children.  I watched, disconnected, as my friends mingled with people in the line to get soup and bread. I saw children passing out animal cookies. But there were so many people here, they just kept coming. I didn't see how we could possibly feed them all.  

     Everything in my life had changed so quickly, and now this... what was I supposed to do with this?  

     Oh Lord," I cried to myself, "This is too much for me. I can't handle it." 

     About then, a friend saw me standing there, and took the time to come over and give me a hug. "I can't do this." I told her. "This is horrible. No one should have to live like this."  

     "I know, " she said sweetly. "But they're getting hot soup and bread. Some are getting there hair washed. Their children are laughing and playing with ours." She paused. 

     "There are parents that need help carrying soup back to their children." She paused again. "You can help do that?"

       I knew she was right. I could help do that. So I took a few deeps breaths and walked toward the line of people. I said hello. I pasted on a smile. 

     "Ask that lady if you can hold her baby."  I knew the words I heard were not audible. I realized soon enough, that God that put those words on my heart, because then, I saw her.  A mother in line had three children. There were two, each wrapped around one leg, and in her arms, she held a baby in a pink onesie. 

     She was doing her best to move forward while juggling the baby and a dirty chopped off milk carton  to hold the soup in.  I walked toward her. I don't speak Spanish, but I knew she understood me when I stretched out my arms and said, "Can I hold your baby for you?"

      As I took the baby and held her to my chest, there was a odd sound. There was something inside the onesie. Something crunchy.  The baby was content and happy as I unzipped her onesie and looked inside. Animal cookies. The baby was stuffed with animal cookies. A smile came over my face. And then I found myself laughing with joy as something broke off of me.  I walked around and showed her to people as the Mother moved through the line. "This baby is stuffed with animal cookies," I said, smiling  through tears.  

     

     God gave me something I needed in that moment and he knew exactly what it was. He knew that the darling baby stuffed with cookies would bring me joy. I pictured the Mom unzipping it as the kids brought the cookies around because she had no where else to put them.  

     I waited until my daughter and her team had filled the woman's dirty container with soup, and watched them give her little ones bread to carry back. Then I joined her and followed her back to their home. Their cardboard box at the dump. I handed her back her baby. I knew she was grateful. I could see it in her eyes. And her children were already eating the bread.  

     I went back to the line after that and helped a few more families carry things, butt as I did, I heard talk in the Van about the food. 

     "It's going so fast." 

     "So many people still in line."  

     "Still more coming." 

     It wasn't until many hours later that we all talked about the miracle. Every person serving food in the Van shared their perspective of what happened that day when we gathered together later. Each one of them believed they were going to run out before everyone got fed. But they just kept serving. They started breaking the bread in half. But the soup pot always had one more ladle of soup in it. And the box of bread had five pieces left, then four. Then they gave some away, but there were still four pieces in the box. 

     We also found out  that not only was everyone fed, but some people had come back for seconds.  

     It was like the miracle of the fish and loaves with Jesus on the mountainside, but instead it was a miracle of soup and bread at the dump in Ecuador. 

     We found out the next day that we couldn't adopt James because of our age. Ecuador wont let people over 40 adopt. I guess Melinda wasn't sure about the age cut-off when we discussed adopting James, but a part of me was already prepared to hear the answer. As much as I loved that baby, and wanted to take him home, he wasn't supposed to be ours. But the love God put in my heart for that baby changed something in me. And I knew that it was something good. Something I could take home.  

     I cried myself to sleep that night as Paul comforted me. 

     I had to leave James behind, but he had been greatly loved in my arms. And all those people at the dump were still going to live in cardboard boxes and be dirty and hungry. Oh Lord, I thought, there's still so much that I don't understand. 

     The day before we left, Paul took me shopping so I could buy something special for James. I bought him a sheepskin blanket for his crib. And I wrote him a letter. 

     "I love you, baby James," It said. "I wanted to take you home with us but we couldn't adopt you because of our age. You are beautiful and I will pray that your forever family finds their way to you soon. We bought you this blanket. I hope it keeps you warm and covers you with our love." 

     Paul and I taped the letter right on the wall right by his crib, kissed him one last time, covered him with the sheepskin, and said goodbye.  

    

     Years later, I got a letter from Melinda, the woman who started the orphanage. 

     In the letter was a picture of James. He was about 3, I think. He was sitting on a tricycle.

     She wanted me to know that he had found his forever family. 

     She wanted me to know that the sheepskin blanket I bought him was in his arms as his forever Mother took him into hers. 

     She wanted me to know that the letter I wrote him was also placed into her hands. 

     

     My tears that day were tears of joy. I had thought about that sweet baby boy so many times, and the gift I got that day from Melinda healed something inside me.   

     My youngest daughter went back with our friends the next year and got to be with the babies again. 

     I can't think too much about the people who live at the dump because it hurts. But I can pray for them. And I am filled with love and awe remembering the miracle God preformed that day we fed them, and the way the baby stuffed with cookies brought me joy  in the midst of great sadness.

     I know that God sees the people in the dump in Ecuador every moment of their day. 

     I know that He loves them.

     I know that James  found his forever family and I picture him snuggled underneath the sheepskin blanket we bought him, and I pray that he feels warm and greatly loved.

     For now... that is enough.