A final journal entry for Friday January 6, 2006
(Ieva’s Tear)
...We had all said our last goodbyes and embraced for the final time. We had shared one last meal in the airport together and expressed our hopes that God would reunite us soon. I had already assured the kids that everything would be OK after I was gone…That we would be praying for each of them. I had already moved through the final security checkpoint and beyond, stopping at the glass-walled hallway that looked out across the café, below and over to the balcony where they all stood staring back at me with pleading eyes and long faces. I had already read their lips as they mouthed “We love you…God Bless you”, and had already backed slowly away with my eyes fixed on them until the glass gave way to a cold stainless steel wall which obstructed my view. I had already walked around the corner past the shops, down the hallway of teak glass and steel into the departure gate area where I had discovered no remaining vacant seats.
There were still a few minutes left before boarding would begin. In fact, the massive line, which evolves without respect to seat assignment for boarding planes in Riga, had not yet begun to form. I remembered upon returning home last summer from Latvia that the Lima chocolate, a sweet reminder, which for a moment could transport one back to Limbazi to the smiling faces of the kids, had disappeared much too quickly once we had gotten home. I didn’t want to repeat the mistake of being under stocked.
Double checking the departure time, I quickly turned and headed back towards the shops I had passed a few moments before. Upon quick survey, the first two locations provided little chance of yielding the precious Lima chocolate, so I turned back down the hallway rounded the corner, approaching the first store in the terminal…the one with its farthest wall forming the threshold between opaqueness and transparency, where I had last seen my Latvian family.
Forgetting about the chocolate, I wondered, “would they still be there?” After all, it had been several minutes, and they did have a bus to catch. My steps slowed as I approached the boundary of steel and glass. I hesitated unsure that if they were still there that I would have the ability to walk away again. Nevertheless, I allowed myself to look.
As I moved slowly past the transition point, Richards and Elina first came into view. Ricky had seemingly collapsed in Elina’s arms, leaning on her desperate for her maternal comfort. Elina’s eyes were shut as she tenderly held Ricky’s head to her shoulder with one hand, the other stroking the back of his jacket.
Immediately to their left stood Ralphs, his left foot perched lightly on the bottom rung of the balcony’s railing while his head was propped up by his right hand, his elbow resting firmly on the top rail. With a somber stare, he looked beyond the people and commotion of the café below, perhaps trying to find one more snowball fight or lap around the ice rink.
Having now moved entirely beyond the steel wall, I could see Lasma and Ieva. They tearfully clung to each other, swaying ever so slowly back and forth. I stood undetected watching this silent scene, separated by the glass and space, yet perpetually connected in my heart. The pure emotion of it all touched me at a level which defies description. I realized in the beauty of that instant I was experiencing the presence of God on a level I never had before. By allowing me to feel the love of those kids, the sorrow of our separation, and the deep longing to bless them, even though by blood they were not mine, God was giving me a more complete understanding of His love for us all. I was filled with awe and peace all at the same time.
Then, as confirmation of this truth, He marked the moment with an image…an image that will always be with me. Ieva had started to straighten up from their tearful embrace, still unaware of my silent presence. As she raised her head and reached to wipe the tears streaming down her face, one of them slid gracefully from her cheek. It seemed to almost pause in mid air as it caught a ray of light from the windows behind. I half expected to hear an audible single note chime as the teardrop fell. I’m not altogether sure my mind didn’t fill it in. The shimmering of that light enveloped the scene in a way that was beyond surreal; it was spiritual. With laser like brilliance, the light of Ieva’s tear etched the beauty of the moment forever in my mind.
Completely unaware of all that had just taken place, Ieva continued to wipe away the tears and within a few seconds, she turned and her eyes caught my gaze. A smile lit up her face. Excitedly she tapped on Lasma’s arm. Again I could make out her mouth forming the words, “He’s there…He’s there!”. Lasma shot up and her eyes darted to the place she had last seen me. Smiling, she reached out her arm extending it over the rail as if to touch my hand which was pressed against the glass wall separating us by some 20 feet. Ralphs and Ricky both looked up. Ralphs waved slowly, and Ricky’s eyes opened wide as he grinned. Elina simply gazed back at me as if to say, “Don’t worry, I will look after them while you are away.”
Then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the smiles faded, as if simultaneously we all knew that I would once again have to back away…this time for good. The edges of the scene softened as my eyes succumbed to the tears which had been mounting. I instinctively tightened my upper lip as it began to quiver and swallowed hard in a desperate attempt to stay in control. I needed to appear strong for them.
I had to go…backing away for the final time, I could still perceive the refracted light from Ieva’s tear radiating around the kids. I prayed that they would comprehend the love of Christ and how it engulfs them in the same way.
Rounding the corner to the gate area I could see the line had begun to form. As I approached the line I noticed a display cart containing the Lima bars I had set out for . It was from the very first store which I believed held no promise of the Lima bars. I proceeded to purchase a half dozen or so and get in line. If I had seen the cart in the first place, I would have never traveled back and seen Ieva’s tear nor been blessed in the manor I was that day. I think sometimes God blinds us from some things so that we might not miss others.
Getting on the plane, my boarding pass would not scan. The attendant called over the other girl working the counter who checked me in earlier. She looked at it and said, with a smile on her face, “Oh, I forgot…you’ve been upgraded.”
