Tears From a Broken Heart

"A broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise."  Psalm 51:17

A couple of nights ago there were more tears.

It started earlier in the evening but culminated at bedtime.

She had asked to sleep with Lauren in Lauren's bed. We've done that before and depending on the night would consider doing it again. But that day we had been outside all afternoon, everyone was tired, and the next day was a very busy Monday. A good night's sleep for everyone was of the utmost importance.

Or so I thought.

She had positioned herself in Lauren's bed and shook her head "no" every time I motioned for her to come to her own bed.

Finally, with a little stomp in her step and pout on her face she made her way back to her own bed.

And then they started to fall.

But it was different this time.

No anger or defiance.
No temper or tantrum.
Just tears. Tears that came from somewhere deep inside.

From the loss of what she left behind? Or from what she never knew?

I don't know.


She hid herself completely under the bedsheets and refused to come out despite my coaxing.

Eventually, though, she dropped the covers enough that I could converse with the two little eyes that peeped out at me between the sheets.

As tears fell, I asked her some questions.  She nodded or shook her head depending on the answer but I'm learning that doesn't always means she understands what I'm saying.

Needless to say, at this point, I didn't see her sleeping with her big sister as an issue of the will.  It was a means of comfort and in that moment that's what she seemed to need the most.

After a few minutes, I was able to get a giggle or two out of her and told her it was OK with me if she slept with Lauren.  And Lauren, the ever-sensitive one, was willing to go to bed earlier than usual.

For the second time that night, I tucked her in, said goodnight, and turned to walk away.

It was at that moment that Lily grabbed my hand, then Lauren's, and then squeezed her eyes until they were shut tight.

She wanted to pray.

She wanted to pray.

She wanted to pray.

She wanted to pray.

This same little girl who looked at us like we were koo-koo for Coco-Puffs the first time we prayed in China was now initiating praying with us.

And so we did.

A few minutes later, as I walked down the stairs I marveled at what had just taken place, what He was doing, and what was to come in the life of this little girl.

And how thankful I was to be able to witness it.

And the next night, He showed me even more....

...to be continued...