Last August I wrote a CaringBridge post about a little girl I met in an ice cream shop. Well, I recently learned a little more about that girl and heard the other side of the story. I’d like to share that with you. First, here is the post I wrote last year:
Quiet Child
The other night I went to Jeni’s ice cream on Eastland, after having dinner at the Silly Goose. Not that I need to go anywhere for ice cream - I have a stash of frozen treats in my freezer already. But it’s the new place and I wanted to try it out so do I really have to explain? There was a line, which surprised me for a Wednesday evening. And it was black and white and shiny on the inside - not really like East Nashville. I feel this neighborhood changing all the time.
Ahead of us in line were two couples together. One of the men was holding a small child. She had curly dark hair and big eyes and looked sleepy. She stared at me and I waved my fingers at her, then she just reached out her arms. She kept them out until the person holding her noticed. Well, look at that, he said, she really wants to go to you. Would you like to hold her? I thought about white cell counts and germs and children, then opened my arms and took her. She settled into my side and stared at my face and was perfectly quiet and content. I wondered if I reminded her of someone. Her eyes melted into me. Once or twice, the other people tried to get her attention or coax her back, but she ignored them, not making a sound, staring at me. I held her until they all had their ice cream and then handed her back. She went without complaint and we went on to order some amazing ice cream.
This is probably the point at which I should write something really profound. Maybe about the innocence of children, or unspoken communication, or the fundamentally peaceful influence of ice cream. Maybe there was something profound. Or maybe just the simplicity of a moment. All I know is, it felt good to be holding this child for a little while.
Back to today:
This week I did some random Googling for an illustrator in Nashville. I’ve got a little children’s book I’ve written about Eloise and it would be fun to get it illustrated - more about that another time. As sometimes happens with Google, I found myself going down the rabbit hole of barely related results. There was a link to a blog of a Nashville woman who was giving away an illustration done by an artist in Massachusetts. Not exactly what I needed, but I started reading the blog anyway because I liked the illustrator’s style.
Something about this blog made me think of the Quiet Child. I can’t explain it. There was a picture of a little girl the couple had adopted, but the age was wrong for it to be the Quiet Child. Still, there were references to East Nashville and Jeni’s Ice Cream and, after I dug a little deeper, another foster child that they had for a short time last year.
At the risk of appearing like a stalker or crazy person, I emailed the blogger and asked her if they might have been the people I met last year. The next day, I got a response. Holding my breath, I opened it and this is what it said [names redacted for privacy].
“Thanks for reaching out! It doesn't seem weird at all. In fact, my husband and I have thought about that experience many times. The little girl's name is L. She was with us last year from the end of July until the beginning of September. J. and I are foster parents and she was the first little girl placed with us. She totally changed our lives as we experienced love in a new, deeper way after getting to be her parents for 5 weeks. We became foster parents because we wanted to share the love we've felt through Christ with children in need, kids who have been hurt and known pain that kids shouldn't have to know. We hadn't expected that one of the kids might reach out and show someone else love, unrestrained and more freely than we know how to do as adults. L. was a sweet girl and not scared of strangers but that was the only time she ever reached out for someone she didn't know to hold her like that. It meant something to us as well. We guessed that you were probably going through chemo and an unpleasant time and after the fact suggested that maybe she had made your day. Your email brought tears to both J's and my eyes.”
The little girl had indeed made my day and this email, over a year later, made my day again. It makes me feel like we have some kind of bond - all of us going through something life changing and coming out the other side. I know it was heartbreaking for them to have to give up L., but here they are now with a lovely child they were able to adopt. And of course, for me, there were many challenges last year. But here I am now, feeling good and in love and grateful for all the small blessings.
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