Another Goodbye

We all sat around her at the table in a cheap Chinese buffet restaurant. The girls were dressed in fancy black and dolled up for the event. We were saying goodbye to her that night—it was her despidida. While we drank coke we each said a memory of Sarahi and wished her well. And as we pretended to toast each time, the girls laughed and hugged spontaneously. Finally it was her turn. She couldn’t speak. Sarahi put her head down. When she picked up again and looked at me, there were tears in her eyes. Her red face said it all and she spoke, “ay Anita!” She repeated it several times as her attempts to hold in her tears failed. At last she was able to bless us with her words as she slowly said goodbye. “Nunca las voy a olvidar.”

At that restaurant we were the loudest and hungriest table, but shared the sweetest moments together.

With all the movements and graduating in a children’s home, this was another difficult goodbye. It’s tough to admit that something is not yours. Something that is close to you. Something you’ve cried out for, strived for, something that feels like you bought it at a high price.

That night I realized Sarahi was not mine. This week she graduated 9^th grade and will move on to the hope program in Back2Back where they can offer her a high school and college education. She will live in a home, not dorm room, with a family. This couple will serve as an example of what parents can be. It will mold her into the mother she will one day be.

After all the talks, the goodnight hugs and kisses, the just dance competitions and songs I’ve heard her sing and sang with her, she will be leaving us. Some one else will watch her, counsel her, and guide her. Although everything in me wants to grab her and hold on to her, she must go. Her life and future are not mine; she was bought and paid for by someone much higher than I. Jesus gives me this difficult assurance. I will no longer be able to care for her, but I will leave her in the hands of some one who loves her more than I.

If I could take away your sorrows I would cast them to the wind.

If I could say it’s okay, you would never cry again.

If I could wave my hand, I’d wave away your fears.

You would never have to worry as long as I am near.

If I could take my brush, I would paint a perfect day.

If I could muster all my creativity I would say the perfect phrase.

The words that I would say can only go so far.

They’re just ordinary words, from an ordinary heart.

But I know someone who loves you more than I.

Sarahi I love you, but He loves you more than I.