Maria

I saw an old friend the other day who had traveled alongside our young family to South America some 20 years ago. He and the Gardener had meetings to attend and I was going to take photos and write stories. Tears streamed down the cheeks of our getting-older friend as he spoke to me. "Every time I see you I am transported back to that moment in the orphanage when they placed that three day-old baby in your arms. I know you wanted to take her home with you."

Oh yes indeed. I've often thought of that morning that we spent at a Bolivian orphanage. When we were nearing the end of the visit, we sat in the office for a few minutes when there was a rustle at the door and in walked two women carrying a fairly newborn baby girl that had been found under a truck, tucked behind a wheel. I'm not sure how they knew she was three days old, but that's what they told me as they placed her in my arms. Of course I wanted to take her home with me. But could we?

We put forth questions and were told it would not be possible legally since we did not live there. But they did let me name her. Maria. And I have never forgotten Maria nor stopped wondering how her life turned out and how different our lives would be today if she had been our daughter. I also wonder if they really gave her that name.

Photos: Eldest son holding Maria; the ladies of mercy leaving after rescuing the baby and delivering her to the orphanage.