Over this past weekend, I watched Mary Poppins Returns with our twelve year old foster daughter. I was a bit in and out because of tasks, but I caught a scene with the precious song “The Place Where Lost Things Go”. It’s a song sung to children who are dealing with the loss of their mother and I so related to the feelings that loss brings. My own broken heart listened like I was one of those children, being sung to by the Lord instead of Mary Poppins. I snuck away to the other room shortly afterwards, to listen to it again on my phone and cry to myself. There is such a simple childlike sadness to it that has made me feel reminiscent and hopeful, imagining my baby in a wondrous place that I will get to see one day too.
The lines “So when you need her touch and loving gaze, gone but not forgotten is the perfect phrase”, keep coming in my mind as I hum the sweet little melody. Last night I was in my closet, thinking about how only recently I’ve begun to wear the clothes that I last held Wynter in. They’ve been in the back of my closet for nine and a half months, unsure if they’d ever be worn again. But something in me shifted at the nine month mark. The time she’s been gone is almost longer than the time I carried her and had her here on Earth. And I’m starting to think I may never get pregnant again, which terrifies me, but I’m feeling that maybe I have to accept that. It’s a truth my heart doesn’t even want to conceive of, but it could be what God has for me. I have no way of knowing. Wearing those clothes was some small bit of moving forward in the uncertainty of life, while trying to trust God even in the pain of not knowing.
As I hummed those words, I also saw Wynter’s crib folded up and tucked behind my hanging blouses. I pictured where her tiny clothes used to hang next to mine. One in particular said “pretty like mommy” and I often say it under my breath when going to my closet. I wondered when the day would come that I would feel ready to sell her crib, or her changing pad that was up on my closet shelf, along with her other things. I can’t see that day coming anytime soon. She is sadly gone but not forgotten and I’m not ready to give away her things. I can’t imagine that now. They are the only physical remnants I have left of my only forever girl.
Oh Wynter, you will never be forgotten my daughter. No matter what new roles, events or people come into our lives. No matter how much life brings new love and new losses. No matter how many years pass before we see you again. Mommy and Daddy will never forget that precious moment we first laid eyes on you or even that special Valentines Day when we first confirmed we were parents with a child of our own coming into existence. Your little life matters so much now and it always will. I hold onto your memory so closely in my heart and the hope and knowing that I WILL be with you again one day in the place where the lost things go. You are never truly lost. The Lord knows exactly where you are. And on that much awaited day when I get to see you again, we will cry with joy together and the Lord will wipe away every one of our tears because all things will be made new. ALL things. I can hardly wait my Wynnie Pooh! You are gone from me now, but never forgotten.