Why Developing Emotional Security in Your Children Matters
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The room was small, dark, and silent. Stepping inside we saw three walls lined with baby cribs each occupied by a tiny baby. In the back corner a disengaged caregiver lifted her eyes in our direction. The babies were alone. Unattended. Silent. Our daughter Laura and I were part of an overseas medical mission team working for a week in an orphanage, home to hundreds of abandoned babies and children, most with physical disabilities or medical conditions their parents were unable to provide for them. Most of the nonmedical members of our team were assigned to assist the American doctors in our group. But another woman, Lynn, and I asked if we could go to the baby room and just take care of babies all day, every day. For the next week we gave our hearts to these babies, snuggling them close while giving them bottles instead of letting the feeding happen as it normally did—with the bottle propped up on a rolled rag, much of the milk escaping the baby’s mouth and soaking into the bedding. The smallest baby drew my heart instantly. I was amazed to discover she was six weeks old, as she weighed barely five pounds, having been born a preemie. Lethargic and sleepy, she seemed so vulnerable and alone. I held her as often as the workers would let me. Lynn and I named some of these little ones that week since we couldn’t speak their native language. I named this littlest one Sarah. I prayed for her life during the day when I was with her and at night back in our hotel. By late in the week Lynn and I had a routine. On Thursday as usual, we arrived at the orphanage we went straight to baby room. My feet went straight to my tiny Sarah. Even in the dim lighting something didn’t seem right. I bent over her, put my hand on her tiny chest and discovered it was barely moving. I ran to find our American doctor, who began the process of reviving her and then raced her to a hospital, where she completely recovered. Sarah’s needs, physical and emotional, had been ignored. Neglect nearly ended her life. Quite miraculously, baby Sarah was adopted months later by one of the doctors on our medical team. She is now a thriving, healthy teenager, about to graduate from high school. Little Sarah’s physical heart almost stopped because her emotional heart, the soul of who God made her to be almost gave up
Why Developing Emotional Security in Your Children Matters
Why Developing Emotional Security in Your…
Why Developing Emotional Security in Your Children Matters
The room was small, dark, and silent. Stepping inside we saw three walls lined with baby cribs each occupied by a tiny baby. In the back corner a disengaged caregiver lifted her eyes in our direction. The babies were alone. Unattended. Silent. Our daughter Laura and I were part of an overseas medical mission team working for a week in an orphanage, home to hundreds of abandoned babies and children, most with physical disabilities or medical conditions their parents were unable to provide for them. Most of the nonmedical members of our team were assigned to assist the American doctors in our group. But another woman, Lynn, and I asked if we could go to the baby room and just take care of babies all day, every day. For the next week we gave our hearts to these babies, snuggling them close while giving them bottles instead of letting the feeding happen as it normally did—with the bottle propped up on a rolled rag, much of the milk escaping the baby’s mouth and soaking into the bedding. The smallest baby drew my heart instantly. I was amazed to discover she was six weeks old, as she weighed barely five pounds, having been born a preemie. Lethargic and sleepy, she seemed so vulnerable and alone. I held her as often as the workers would let me. Lynn and I named some of these little ones that week since we couldn’t speak their native language. I named this littlest one Sarah. I prayed for her life during the day when I was with her and at night back in our hotel. By late in the week Lynn and I had a routine. On Thursday as usual, we arrived at the orphanage we went straight to baby room. My feet went straight to my tiny Sarah. Even in the dim lighting something didn’t seem right. I bent over her, put my hand on her tiny chest and discovered it was barely moving. I ran to find our American doctor, who began the process of reviving her and then raced her to a hospital, where she completely recovered. Sarah’s needs, physical and emotional, had been ignored. Neglect nearly ended her life. Quite miraculously, baby Sarah was adopted months later by one of the doctors on our medical team. She is now a thriving, healthy teenager, about to graduate from high school. Little Sarah’s physical heart almost stopped because her emotional heart, the soul of who God made her to be almost gave up