whatever you do for the least of these

I walked in and saw cribs filled with children older than my own, and I knew things would never be the same for me. 

There laid before me was my greatest fear….that because of my struggles, I would one day become one like these. 

One deemed unlovable.  
Unworthy.  
Untouchable. 

I never thought I could face a place like this without absolute fear and panic.  
And yet, instead I found myself, within seconds, running to the arms of a boy whose parents would never again come to see him. 

And he smiled, oh how big he smiled!
And I cried. 

Oh, how hard I cried!

If this was to ever be me, if this was what I had become or would ever become, this is just what I would need. 

I would need to experience a hug that felt as though it had no end. 

I then found myself at the crib of another boy, unable to speak or walk or care for himself in any way.  He wore a superman shirt, and I whispered to him,
“One day, sweet boy, you will be with the greatest superhero of all.”  
And he will.  

His blank stare and open mouth captivated me, and as I laid my hand on his chest, his breathing slowed and his eyes softened.  
I couldn’t leave him.  
There was so much I needed him to know through my eyes, prayers, and touch.  
He had to know that he was lovable.  
That he was worthy.  
And that one day, he would be made whole again.  
He would.  
And I would hug him as he was now, and I will hug as he will be then.

Then there was the boy whose legs were twisted and contorted, and he’d grip a big red rubber ball outside the rails of his crib as though it was his only lifeline.  
I could relate to the grip of a false lifeline.
He writhed and twisted and gripped and pounded at the ball, and I could feel his unrest and discomfort.

So as I bent down, and looked into his eyes, I told him out loud, that he was beautiful and perfect.  
And that one day he would be healed, running down the streets of heaven, and I couldn’t wait to run beside him.  
Then I reached through those bars to the writhing head of this hurting boy and I began to simply and softly touch his cheek.  
Gently I traced his lips, his cheeks, his eyes and ears, over and over again. 

If this had been me, if this is where I had ended up, this is just what I would need. 

I would crave these soft touches, and whispered promises of love…unconditional love, even though they’d know I’d never be able to give it back. 

His body calmed, his grip released allowing his hands to rest on my lap, and I held his gaze for the next 20 minutes while I softly tickled, sang and prayed that God would show his face to this sweet abandoned beautiful boy.

Their faces and smiles and eyes will forever be etched in my memory, as I can simply close my eyes and see them just as they were that “accidental day” we discovered them.

I share this because this “accidental day” was a miracle of God.
Because of Him…

There was no panic. 

No fear. 
I became someone I never thought I could be.
I did things I never thought I could do.

I just simply heard the voice of God say over and over again,
“Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.” 

And that day, I saw Jesus face to face. 

I touched his chest. 

I caressed his cheek. 

I sang to him, and whispered words of adoration and love. 

And He was beautiful and perfect. 

And there was no fear.

Because there never is in the presence of God.