Our dear, sweet friends from Bolivia are here again for a visit. Pablo lived in our city years ago, going to Bible School day and night, and eventually returned to Bolivia to become pastor and teacher at our bible school there. God has blessed the work there, and knitted our hearts to those of the Bolivian people, even those whom we have not met yet. Pablo is like family. His sister, Carolina, is a dear friend. His wife, Pamela, is a sweetheart. I have been looking forward all week to their arrival and hugged them with joy as soon as I spotted them this evening at church.
(I must admit that part of my anticipation in seeing them again, has to do with having Pablo play piano on the worship team. Man, that guy is gifted. I never fail to be inspired to get off my lazy behind and practise playing piano when he is around. He is not only talented, he is a worshipper – and his music is pure ministry to God’s heart. I long to be able to play like that.)
When Pablo lived here, he was a twenty-something bachelor. Now he is married, and father to the two cutest little dark-eyed, chubby-cheeked, curly-haired children.
I met his eldest, Valeria, two years ago when she was a contented little baby a few months short of her first birthday. Jenna had fussed over her with all the maternal feelings that a three year old could muster. I can still see her bending over Valeria’s carseat, “talking to the baby”, whilst stroking her cheek. (Pamela left some comments on the Jenna page, you can read what she said about how Jenna loved on Valeria at comment number 9.)
Now Valeria is a gorgeous little madam, almost three, who has her mommy and her daddy wrapped around her little finger.
I am in a quandry as to how to handle Valeria. I can see that my hubby is too. In one sense, we want to stare at her and lap up all her toddler sweetness, because we are missing the unique little mannerisms and movements that so many girly-girls around the age of three have in common. Did you know that little girls have a similar way of tilting their heads when they are intent on charming you, they have this singular little bounce when they run, their hands are often poised in quite the same way? I try not to stare at toddlers, but sometimes I can’t help it (hubby says sometimes he wonders if people mistake him for a pervert when he cannot help but stare). I see Jenna in girly toddlers, so often.
I saw Jenna in the body language of Valeria this evening, as she tried to coerce her daddy into going somewhere with her. And later, as she threw a temper tantrum.
To stare or not to stare. At some point, staring too much either alerts people around me of my longing or causes feelings to rise to the surface that are best controlled in public, so I have this very ambivalent response. Stare, or ignore. And whichever response I choose, I cannot help but be painfully AWARE.
Oooohhhh. So I sit here tonight, having been reminded by another sweet girly girl, of the little one that isn’t here with us right now. And as the tears roll down my cheeks, I post this little lament. I miss Jenna.
I reach for Jenna’s picture and stare at that sweet little smile, look into those expressive eyes framed by those gorgeous eyebrows. I smile into them and as I always do, I remember that she is very much alive still, just not in a place where I can touch her and draw her close. So I do the next best thing.
I take her picture, and cradle it close against my heart.
October 3, 2009 at 10:14 am
I can’t begin to imagine your grief but your words are so beautifully full of love and longing. My thoughts are with you.
October 3, 2009 at 10:58 am
Oh Sumi. I know we have never met and chances are we probably won’t until we are in heaven together, but I tell you, my heart really aches for you. I have tears in my eyes and I just want to “fix” this pain for you. I want to bring your Jenna back to you.
Once we do get to the streets of gold I bet the first thing Jesus will do is take you to your little girl. What a sweet reunion that will be. Please keep sharing your heart with us and know Sumi, that reading your memories of Jenna or of your pain or the funny stories about her that you share…
we will NEVER tire of hearing of your beauty.
NEVER.
Love,
Lelia
October 3, 2009 at 11:04 am
I wonder the same things about boys who would be Larsons age…to stare or not! Sometimes I don’t know I am doing it. Lost in my own thoughts. Praying for you.
October 3, 2009 at 2:10 pm
I find myself staring at the kindergartners and first graders. I understand the dilemma. I also sympathize. Just as there are common mannerisms among three year olds, the same holds true for five/six year old girls. It’s all so very hard.
I wish I could just give you a great big hug.
Enjoy Valeria, enjoy the yumminess of toddlerhood. Embrace it and remember. I find there are times when it just feels good to remember and grieve. Does that make sense?
HUGS to you and your family, Sumi. Great big HUGS!
October 6, 2009 at 9:27 am
Each trip out of my house presents me with the same dilemma…I never noticed how many 2 year old little boys there were around, until I lost mine. Mostly, I have to look away or it just makes me miss my son more.
Looking at his picture and touching his sweet face pierces my heart as I long to have him back with me.
Praying for you today.
Angie
October 11, 2009 at 10:47 pm
I know……
Cindy
October 16, 2009 at 12:44 am
((hugs))
I think and pray for you often.
October 21, 2009 at 12:12 am
sumi, thank you for remembering my daughter, alyssa, as you continue to struggle with your own loss. remembering.
October 29, 2009 at 12:10 am
Thinking of you and praying!
A “friend” praying for you in MD
October 29, 2009 at 2:06 am
Just wondering how you are and coming to gaze at that little beauty. We have much to long for, my friend!
October 31, 2009 at 12:21 am
wow i cannot imagine! it would be a burning and a blessing to see other little ones jenna’s age. i know you wrote this a few weeks ago – but praying for you now!
October 31, 2009 at 8:06 pm
Today was my first visit to your site, your daughter is so beautiful. I was reading thru some old blogs of yours and saw so many of my own feelings there. The different stages of grief, etc. I wish I would have had your faith, you seemed to be at such a better spiritual place than me. But I am working very hard on that. I will always keep you and your family in my prayers.
November 7, 2009 at 2:51 pm
Sumi
I love your heart and how open you are about sharing it. I wish I could just hug you!