SOLOMON: THE BABY I WASN'T SUPPOSED TO FALL IN LOVE WITH

My friends, after a lot of thought, this is the first story I want to start my new blog with.  My first Uganda story, starting with the end of my trip.  The baby boy that stole my heart in two hours...

It was Wednesday morning, the very last day.  We woke up too early and made our way to the baby home for our last morning to wake the babies up.

You see, we had spent the past week and a half serving at this baby home, morning and evening, with other orphanages and slums and kids to love in between.  We would wake the babies up at 8am and help the "mamas" (as they are called) with bathing and getting them dressed and feeding them.  This baby home has kids from ages 1 day to 4 years old.  I love, love love love babies, so I spent a lot of my time with the brand new babies and the 6ish month old ones.  (I have to say, though, you've never experienced anything until you've seen 20 naked toddlers sitting on baby toilets in one room - it's a sight to see).  And after a good week and a half coming morning and evening, you begin to find... I won't say "favorites"... but little ones that you fall in love with more and more each time, even though truly truly you love every single one...

You see friends, it was the last day.  I wasn't supposed to fall in love.

But what happened next was only God, as only He would want me to have a mark to remember this baby home by while I waited in the US to go back to my heart.  I loved many of them there and it broke my heart to leave every single one of them, whether I held them every time I arrived, talked to them once, bathed them, or never held them.  Every time I left began to get harder and harder, until the very last day, which was supposed to go exactly as I planned it.

I sat in the babies' room feeding babies and I heard screaming that had been going on for at least a minute by now.  I knew this one was new.  I knew he had just come yesterday.

I finished feeding a baby and walked in to a sight I'll never forget.  The room was small -- eerily small.  Three cribs crammed in a closet-sized room.  A window letting in the smallest amount of light.  He was placed in my arms, and suddenly we were alone.  Was it a boy?  Or a girl?  In this home, they wear pink no matter what and clothes that don't fit.  He was newer than I thought.  Way newer.  Fuzz was still on his ears.  He cried, I moved to calm him.  "Isolation Room" was written in marker on a yellow sheet of paper over the door.  The tears came.

He was bathed.  A boy!  I wonder what his name is.  Clothed, fed, and safe in my arms for the time being.  Ask a mama -- any mama -- what a baby's name is and they'll hesitate.  So many babies, you are often told the wrong name.  This one, though, they'd have to know.  He was new.

And right there, right there in that room, with a bottle in his mouth and exhaustion in her voice, she said, "That one is new.  He does not have a name."

I didn't know what to say.  Of course.  Of course, he is new.  The fuzz on his ears is still standing up.  He can't be more than a few days old.  Poor baby.  Poor baby left here and I have no words in my brain anymore.  I fed him his bottle alone while I tried not to sob in the middle of this place, with all these people, all these babies.

For the rest of our time there I told myself, name him.  You have to name him.  I was overwhelmed at this point.  I fell in love.  On the last day.  The goodbye was coming nearer and nearer and I wasn't able to do that yet.

And just like that, it was all over.  Are you ready to say goodbye?  It's time to say goodbye.  And how can two hours do this to me?  How can two hours change my whole trip?  I can't do it any longer.  I find my way to the "Isolation Room" (I cringe at the sound) through tears and I kiss your head.  I set you down and I take a blurry picture from over your sleeping body and I can barely crouch down the cribs are so low to the ground.  I kiss you and I say the words from my favorite hymn: the Lord is on your side.  You still had no name, but to me you were precious.  To me you mattered.  And now it really is time to go and I have to hurry.  I leave the room and I run down the stairs in the fresh air, into the car and we drive off.

Solomon.

That's what God said to me, wind blowing in my face, eyes blankly staring at the chaos of Ugandan streets.

Solomon.

Solomon?  It's lunch time.  At the table and we're all okay now, after that terrible goodbye, we all kissed the heads of the ones we loved and left.  I had to go back.  He had a name.  I had to go back.

At home with wifi and I google the name.  It means peace.  Oh.  Oh, Lord how You know.  And I decide, he will be Solomon because for all his days, I want him to know that God gives him unending peace.  Abandoned at day one.  No, unending peace.  Left in a chaotic orphanage.  Unending peace.  Most likely to spend four years in this home.  Unending peace.  If there is a permanent orphanage, unending peace.  If there is a forever family, unending peace.  In whatever story God chooses, oh Lord, give him unending peace.

Plans changed and we were able to go back to the baby home one last time.  It was 5pm, we had to be packed in a car on the way to Entebbe airport by 7.  I ran up the stairs the second that car stopped and I saw you on the floor and I scooped you up and loved every second.  I did not bother asking if they would let me name you, I knew they wouldn't, so in my head, right there, outside with 40 kids running wild I named you Solomon.

In my head I named you.  Solomon... Solomon... today you have a name baby boy.

Today you have a name and today it ends here.  Today your name means unending peace and today you matter.  Today you are no longer just one more baby in the baby home but a baby that has a place in my heart that reminds me to pray for this baby home every time I ache for you.  I pray that I don't have to tell you your second name until Heaven... because it is my deepest desire that when I come back to this place I don't find you... because you are in a forever family where Jesus' love runs deep.

Today as I was missing him God laid a precious thing on my heart.... you were once this baby.  I was once all alone with no name.  Jesus picked me up and He gave me a name.  He said... you are my daughter.  It does not matter what this world names you, what this world does to you.  At day 1 you were redeemed.  At day 1 God chose you.  At day 1 you were picked up from the crib and into Jesus' arms and no longer does your past matter.  Today you are new.  To think that God scooped me up in the same way... to think that God did not forget about me... to think that God did not see me as just one more person... but instead held me close and knew my every feature and every characteristic.  Oh the thought...

It broke my heart to leave that night.  Tears streamed down my face and I was the first one to leave because I couldn't take it anymore.  Babies.  Little babies.  Big ones that eat the wrapper of the muffin.  Little souls.  They all have a future.  And in my time with them, in my time of whispering sweet words to their little ears God whispered them back into mine... you are loved.  You are cared for.  You are chosen.  Oh the glorious thought that I was chosen every day of my life forevermore.  These little ones break my heart because they start out destined with something that only God can redeem.  A life of loss.  A life of trauma.  A life of wondering what could have been, where they came from.  It is my prayer from this day forward, every time I ache for Solomon, that the Lord would use those two hours of a changed heart to have me pray over them.  For them.  For every one of their lives.  The new ones.  The ones that have been there since day one and are now four years old, nearing the permanent orphanage.  The ones that age out and move on.  I kept reminding myself... one day these kids will be adults.  What you say matters.  Every touch matters.  They are little lives, they remember.  And in their memories of a dirty orphanage with overwhelmed mamas I pray that God would use me to help them see that the love of their Savior is real.

My heart breaks... Lord, have Your way in this place.  Lord God have Your way in all of life.  Jesus have Your way in this country, have Your way in this state, have Your way in Uganda, have Your way in every orphanage, have Your way in the lives of every child You said you would not abandon.  You said You are the Father to the Fatherless.  They have a name in You.  Make it known to every one of them every day of their lives.