Lucy Joy

I met her in March, a shy little girl with beautiful braids someone painstakingly created each morning.

Find her a family. She’s very clever.

She sang me a song, recited a poem, and did math problems aloud at her ayi’s command. Her presentation ended in a stream of tears, her sweet spirit anxious at having to perform and prove her cleverness for a foreigner. I took noted and promised I’d try. But, by the end of the week, a scurry and buzz among the working staff at my mention of her name revealed that they had just learned that day she had a family afterall.

Four months later, I got a message in my inbox:

When you were serving at the orphanage, did you happen to meet this little girl?

Instead of me finding a family for HY, her family had found me. We spoke on the phone, and I talked until my throat was sore, sharing all I could about their sweet little sparrow and the place that was her home. They thanked me over and over and said I was blessing them. I went to bed happy that night feeling like all was well with the world.

When I returned a few months later, last month, I brought something with me, a special delivery made out of photos and paper that I carried like it was precious treasure. This time, instead of HY giving me a presentation, I had a presentation of my own for her.

On Tuesday afternoon, I pulled that treasure out of my bag and with trembling hands and voice handed it to my dear friend.

Mama. Baba. Jie Jie. Jie Jie. Ge Ge. Di Di.

Her eyes got big as she pulled the photos close. Her first reaction of quiet turned into words, and she echoed me.

Mama. Baba. Jie Jie. Jie Jie. Ge Ge. Di Di.

and again.

Mama. Baba. Jie Jie. Jie Jie. Ge Ge. Di Di.

She smile a smile like none I had ever seen before and looked up at her ayi and said:

I miss my Mama.

She owned the moment and breathed in the joy herself at the realization that her family was coming for her.

Lucy Joy. Your name is Lucy.

The same buzz and scurrying I had seen in March ensued and I could her her name repeated over and over as if in an angelic chorus. Lucy. Lucy. Lucy. 

And, then she said it herself.

Lucy.

Her spirit sighed as her very breath formed the word of her name—Lucy. 

It was now her turn to scurry and flutter around, showing giggling staff and admiring friends her new family and telling them her name—Lucy! Lucy! Lucy! 

They shared her celebration with thumbs up and pats on the back. Children still waiting jumped up and down for her. Children who would never have that moment themselves hugged her and told her how beautiful her mother was.

It was a highlight of my last trip, an experience I will never forget, one I have told my children about and one I’ll tell my children’s children about. It was the day I got to stand in the gap in the sacred place of transition for a little girl who was moving from an orphan with little hope of a future to a beloved daughter. It was the day God showed me a glimpse of what selfless love looks like as orphans celebrated their friend’s story with genuine joy that she was no longer alone even they will remain.

Lucy Joy. 

You’re almost home, precious girl. They’re coming for you.

note:

story and photos all shared with permission

from Lucy’s mama.