Dear Addie,

Hey Friends-
I wrote the following words, knowing full well that my precious girl would never read them, but felt like there were so many things I desperately wanted to say to her.  I post the letter and the slide show at the end to remember her and celebrate her.  Thanks for reading/watching (by the way, I think the pictures are only viewable on a computer, not an iPhone or iPad).  Blessings!



My Dear, Sweet Addie,

I know that you will most likely never read the following words, but my heart needs to say them…

I love you so very much.  From the first moment I knew you existed, I loved you.  And then I saw your face- I loved you even more.  And then I prayed and prayed I would hold you soon, and I loved you even more.  And then the long awaited day came, and I snuggled you close and kissed your sweet cheeks and saw how full of personality and life you were- and I was head over heels in love with you.  And then I received a birth certificate that listed me (!) as your mother- and I was beyond honored.  You have my heart and always will. 

We have a room in our home that is painted the brightest pink imaginable for you, by request of your big sister, Payton.  I am so sad that you will never sleep in your beautiful bed and that I will never rock you in the corner chair.  I am sad that we will never read bedtime stories or together arrange the pile of stuffed animals already designated for you. 

I literally hate the fact that you will never meet your pink-loving big sister.  She loves you so much, too.  She is funny and loves to laugh and smile just like you.  You guys would have been an absolute mess together, and my heart breaks that you won’t be a part of Payton’s “shows,” that she won’t be able to boss you around J, teach you, argue with you, and love you like only a big sister can. 

I am so sad that I will not get a chance to figure out how to take care of and fix your adorable little head of curls.  I am sad that you will never again grab my hair and pull with all your might, as you grin and try to figure out what on earth it is on top of my head.  I am sad that I will never hear you laugh again.  I am devastated that I will only see your smiles in the few pictures I have of you.

I am sad that you will not experience a Baker Family vacation to our favorite place, Disney World.  I am sad that you won’t be joining us as we dance and sing along to Josh Turner’s “Why Don’t We Just Dance” in the kitchen while we get our dinner ready.  I am sad that you will not be playing one of Payton’s “games” with us in the car.  I am sad that you will not get to go with Daddy and Payton to Sugar and Spice for donuts on Saturday mornings. I am sad that you will not experience movie night, eating pizza for dinner in the den, while I hope against all odds that our rug survives.  I am sad that you won’t be going with us to the beach or the mountains or on any other of our family’s adventures.

I am sad that you will not be there for our Thursday outings with Aunt Andrea and Micah. I am sad that you won’t be playing dress-up, doctor, and board games with your cousins, Sophie and Ben, while Uncle Kris, Aunt Angie, Daddy and I listen from downstairs for screaming, crashing, crying, and laughing.  I am sad that you will not be growing up with your cousin, June, who is just one month older than you.  I am sad that you will not be here this summer when we welcome June’s brother or sister.   I am sad that you won’t be playing in my old bedroom or fighting over the green chair at Mimi and Grandaddy’s.  I am sad that you won’t be getting your nails done and playing on the playground at Mimi and Pawpaw’s.  I am sad that you won’t get to ask me a thousand times “When are they gonna be here?!” on days when Mammaw and Papaw are coming to town.  You are blessed with three sets of wonderful grandparents, a gazillion aunts and uncles, great-grandparents, and so many cousins that love you so very much.

I am sad that Grandaddy won’t be walking down the church aisles showing you off while we would have been dedicating your life and our parenting to the Lord.  I am sad that you won’t be singing and dancing with me as I lead our Walnut Street children in worshipping Jesus.  I am sad that I won’t get to see your wonder and awe as you hear stories from the Word for the first time.  I am sad that I will not be praying with you to receive Christ as your Lord and Savior, and that Grandaddy will not be baptizing you, as you follow Him in obedience.  I am sad that I will not see all of how the Lord uses your life for His glory.  BUT, I am so thankful that I have already seen pieces of that-

Your life has caused so many people to cry out to God.  I hate that you will never know that literally thousands of people have prayed over your life.   The Lord has heard your name uttered from people all over the world. Your life has made people open the Word and search the Scriptures.  Your life has opened the eyes and hearts of so many to the plight of orphans.  Your life has made me love our God more, hunger for Him more, and discover more fully the truths of His word and who He is.  Your life has already brought the Father so much glory.  One of Payton’s favorite Bible stories is the one about the poor widow who gave all she had to the Lord, and it reminds me that He has a purpose for you whether you are a beggar on the streets or a princess in a palace- the same general purpose He has for me- to bring Him glory.  He will use a life regardless of what it looks like, and He has already used yours.

You have brought so much happiness to so many people.  I saw the way your amazing nannies kissed you and cuddled you and looked at you and talked to you.  Their faces lit up when they saw you, and they always looked a bit reluctant to hand you over. J  They called you “Mihru” instead of “Mihret,” and I was told by Woudneh that it is like a pet-name, a term of endearment.  They love you so much, and so does Woudneh.  He has protected your life from the beginning, and he has always sought what was best for you.

I am so sad that you will not get to wear all the pretty clothes hanging in your closet.  It hurts my heart to imagine you in rags or to consider that you may end up living on the streets or back in an orphanage.  While we were in Ethiopia with you I considered changing your clothes- putting you in something pretty and new and girly and clean.  I changed my mind and thought about the story of the prodigal son- how when he finally returned home, his father placed a beautiful robe on his shoulders.  I imagined that when we were finally reunited for good that I would do the same- clothe you like the daughter you officially were.  Now, I am praying that you know and love Jesus, and that He will be the One to some day dress you in the robe of a princess- the clothes of a daughter of the King. 

I pray that the life I fear for you is something from which the Lord chooses to deliver you.  I pray you are loved and cared for by a good, Jesus-loving father.  I pray that you never go hungry.  I pray that you go to school and learn to read and write.  I pray that you get the medical care you need.  I pray that you will have clean water to drink and a warm bed a night.  I pray that you have toys to play with and crayons to color with.  I pray that you have a nice place to take a bath and clean clothes to wear.  However, my greatest concern for you is my greatest concern for Payton and any other child the Lord may give us- that you would know Jesus.  There is nothing- NOTHING- on earth that lasts, that satisfies, that never disappoints, other than Him.  This world may be a cold, ugly place for you, but if you know and love Jesus, there will be a day of no more tears, no more pain, no more sickness, no more hunger, no more injustice, no more loneliness, no more homelessness, no more orphans- A day when mercy and grace will reign over all and when we will see the beautiful face of our Lord.  Until that day, I pray that you find all you need in Him.  You will NOT be fatherless if you trust Him.  He will be your daddy, your ABBA Father, and He will never fail you.  I have already told you that I am overwhelmed with sadness, but the mystery of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ is that while grief threatens to cripple me, I can be filled with joy and peace.  There is a scar on my heart with your name on it, but I will live and hope and rest because there are scars on the Savior’s hands with our names graven on them.

You are not legally mine anymore, but you will always be my daughter in my heart.  I am so so  so sorry that I will not be coming back for you.  I know I promised you I would be back, and it makes my stomach turn to think of the trust and happiness in your eyes as you listened to me assure you that I was your mommy.  I so wish I could tell you good-bye in person, that I could kiss your face again, that I could sing “Jesus Loves Me” to you one more time, but I have to trust that the Lord has you in His hands.  His hands are mighty and strong, and yet gentle and kind.  He loves you more than I ever could, and you are His before you are mine or anyone else’s.

I know that I speak for many, many people when I write that we are blessed to have known you and loved you.  You will always be loved by many, but more importantly, you will always be loved by ONE.  He will never leave you, never forsake you.

Good-bye for now, my precious gift.  I hope with all that I am, that we will meet again, in a place where we will never have to cry, worry, wait, hurt, or be apart.  Until then, Adelaide “Addie” Mihret, I will not stop loving you or longing for you or praying for you. 

With all my heart,

 Mommy