Saying Goodbye

Anybody remember the post I wrote here  about our friend Sunethra? She is a mom, a widow, and a domestic helper in our neighborhood. Today Sunethra will be moving on to a new employer in a different part of the city. We had her over this week to say goodbye. During the visit (on a whim) I quietly asked Annette if she wanted to give Sunethra's daughters (3 and 5) any of her toys. I was hoping she might share some stickers or pony she no longer plays with. I was stunned when without hesitation she announced, "I want to give her baby Ashley." Baby Ashley has been Annette's most special doll. We explained to her that the doll would go to Sri Lanka and she wouldn't get it back. Annette understood and was insistent. Jason and I exchanged sideways glances filled with pride in that moment. I love that she wanted to give from the very best what she had.

We have a new helper in our village, Lanny, from the Philippines. Her immediate family, consisting of her husband (also an overseas worker), daughter and her, live in three different counties. Lanny left her daughter when she was three months old. Last week her daughter turned 9 and Lanny was planning a trip back for her birthday, the first of her birthday's she would ever be present for. But a week before the trip her employer decided she needed Lanny's help for that week. . . I hardly knew what to say as she poured this story out to me, baby on hip and two others running around.

Recently I heard a mom say that her life is narrow but that doesn't mean it's small. Being a mom really has narrowed my world and in many ways restricted what I used to be able to do. But narrowness also brings with it a focus. When a light is narrowed it becomes a laser. Were it not for this season of life I probably would not stand outside and chat with the neighbors. Or spend hours at my kitchen sink looking down on the world below.  I have wrestled a bit with feeling "forgotten" or "lost" tucked away in our humble little village, but God is showing me that he is bringing people (even from different nations) to me. People to love, right outside my door.