Last night I tucked my littlest into his bed, with Pooh Bear under the covers next to him. I kissed his little cheeks over and over. I put my hand on his cute little blonde head and prayed for him. He doesn't know I'm praying so he is talking as I am praying. He is telling me about Ben and Elijah and other whatnot that I cannot understand. We are both whispering words. My words are words of thankfulness that he is mine. My words are blessings and prayers of hope that He will grow up to love with all his heart, soul and mind the God who has kept and cared for him since birth. Intermixed with my words are his little boy words of brothers and toys and Papa and computers. His words are happy. He is content under those covers with Mama kissing and praying for him. He has much to share even though I don't understand. He sleeps easily and before I am done, he is quiet and close to slumber. I kissed him again and began to cry and pray for the little boys who don't have Pooh Bears and a Papa and big brothers who toss them into the air. I wept for Brady and Heath and Gavin. Dear Gavin. Another Lost Boy. My heart longs to see them receive what my dear little Aaron has been given. A family. A home. Hope. A chance to grow up to love God with all their hearts, souls and minds.
"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD,
“plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future.
Then you will call on me and come and pray to me,
and I will listen to you.
You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
I will be found by you,” declares the LORD,
“and will bring you back from captivity.
I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”